Page 95 of One Shattered Crown
Heat rushes into my cheeks.
“We were in the shower,” Justice says unnecessarily.
Oh, man. My fists curl.
“I see,” Detective Caldwell replies, her voice neutral, but her gaze sharp. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to speak with you separately.”
“I mind,” Justice says.
This is odd, but I’m feeling impish. “I don’t mind at all,” I say cheerfully.
He gives me a look. I give him a smile. I’m done letting him dictate everything. I’m not entirely sure how far I can push him, but I want to find out.
“I prefer to stay here,” he says.
“That’s too bad,” Detective Caldwell returns. “Ms. Rendale, we’d like for you to come with us.”
I think about it.
Justice cocks his head, staring at me. His expression is unreadable, and I honestly don’t know what he’ll do. I don’t know if he’ll take them out or let them walk, and that uncertainty twists in my gut. My guess is not—surely people know where these detectives are—but it has been a long day, and even if I get free, at some point Justice is going to catch up with me again.
“I think I’ll stay put.” I cock my head. It’s a good thing Justice’s men somehow fixed the place quickly. “Why are you here?”
“How’d you get that bruise on your forehead?” Detective Caldwell asks suddenly.
My hand twitches toward the mark. I hadn’t really thought about it. I must’ve been hit by one of the falling ceiling tiles. It felt like debris was everywhere when Justice had blown his way into TimeGem. I force a laugh. “A rough pickleball match.”
“Pickleball?” Her voice drips with disbelief, and her eyes narrow as she studies me, then they cut to Justice. “You both are pretty battered and bruised for not having any problems.”
“I was in a car accident,” Justice says, his tone even, almost bored.
She squints, stepping closer. “I didn’t read a report about that.”
I angle my head, and my stomach flips when I see the long scrape, purple bruising spreading across his skin. That definitely hadn’t come from a car. That had occurred during the explosion when he rescued me.
“It happened too fast and I didn’t see the other car,” Justice deadpans. His expression doesn’t change. “It’s beena rough day. You have one second to tell us why you’re here.”
I plaster on a smile. This is really weird. “What’s going on?”
Ashner’s phone rings and he answers it. “Yep. We’re here now just waiting for you to call.”
I glance at Justice. His face is stone, no expression at all.
“Are you sure? Okay, thanks.” The detective slides the phone back into his pocket, then turns and walks toward us. His shoes click sharp against the polished floor.
“What’s going on?” I ask again.
He looks straight at Justice. “We’ve had a witness file a report attesting to the fact that you murdered Horace Whimple and buried his body at your estate. We’re executing a search warrant right now, so we thought to bring you in at the same time.”
I shake my head. They were making sure we stayed put until the warrant was served? Horace is dead? Who’d kill him? “That’s ridiculous,” I blurt out.
“Why?” Detective Caldwell demands, her focus snapping to me. “Are you saying your boyfriend here is too innocent to kill anybody?”
I cough out a laugh because I can’t help it. “No.” We all know who Justice is. “I’m saying he’d never be dumb enough to bury a body on his own property.”
Justice gives me a look. “Stop trying to help.”
Fair enough.
