Page 40 of Shielding Serena

He’d stood and turned to the door when the desk sergeant called his name, stating that Caldwell and his lawyer would see him in Interview One.

Fuck. He looked at the front door, then glanced down at his phone. No text from Serena, nor from Quentin. She was still mad, and everything was still okay, from a security standpoint.

He pivoted away from the door and walked through the bullpen and into Interview One. Bobby Caldwell looked exactly the same as he had this morning. Scruffy as hell and almost as desperate. His lawyer was his exact opposite. Hair and lipstick perfect, dressed in a slick navy-blue suit, pressed white shirt and red-soled blue shoes. She was the furthest thing from a public defender Walker had ever seen.

“Mr. Landry, I’m Darinda Ford, Mr. Caldwell’s court-appointed counsel. Even though I’ve cautioned my client against speaking with you, he’s been adamant.”

Walker settled into a chair and looked at Bobby. He sure as hell didn’t appear thirty.

“I didn’t hurt Serena,” he said, his voice strong, belying his appearance. “I was leading a team from TMZ to your ranch when I got these scratches.”

Ford pulled out a document and passed it across the table. “The Sheriff has been out since we got this from the network, which is why Mr. Caldwell is still being held,” she said, obviously not happy about it.

Walker looked at the paper and saw it was a signed statement from the network, stating that they’d hired Bobby Caldwell as a guide to obtain b-roll footage of Last Light Ranch.

If it hadn’t been Bobby coming through the window, then Serena could still be in danger. He pulled out his phone, ignoring both of them. There were still no texts, so he returned his attention to Caldwell. “It was you who tripped the sensors, wasn’t it?”

Bobby nodded. “Scared the shit out of us. We came in overland, so there wouldn’t be any cars visible. As soon as the voice in the trees started yelling at us, we booked it out of there. I think we’d been listening to too much paranormal talk around town to realize what it was at first, and by the time we did, we decided to bag it and take what we already had.”

“So, given this information, the worst thing Mr. Caldwell can be charged for is trespassing, which is a misdemeanor, as you well know.”

Walker nodded. “I’m aware. Why does TMZ care about us right now? I understood it after everything that happened last fall, but why now?”

Caldwell shook his head. “They didn’t give me details, only that they needed b-roll. But I did hear one guy mention Hunter Murillo and a TV show and something about secrets. I don’t know if that helps.”

Walker pondered that for a moment, then picked his phone back up and fired off a text to Hunter. Why is TMZ on our ass? Specifically, yours?

“I won’t be filing charges,” he said. “Just stay off of Last Light, all right? I’ll figure out the TMZ piece myself.”

He stood and walked out the door without another word. His phone blew up the second he walked into the bullpen and he cursed as he saw a flurry of messages from Quentin. Three calls. And realized that there’d been no reception in the interview room.

Serena did as much as she could in The Menagerie, but she needed something more. Needed to do something with her hands. So she texted Quentin and told him she was going to the storage unit to grab a few of the smaller boxes. Inventorying them would give her something to do while she got over herself.

Of course Quentin called immediately, while she was in the car, and basically ordered her to stand down, which she ignored. Marlon and Bobby were in custody right now, and Quentin knew where she was going. The men in her life were going to have to suck it up for once and let her do her own thing.

She made it to the storage facility, finding it ironic that Walker was only a few miles away. She texted him when she got into the unit telling him to meet her here. There, now no one could complain and he could come help her, which meant she got to watch him lift things again.

With that thought she knew she was over her pique, knew she’d needed some time to work through the hurt Parker’s indifference had caused. As much as Walker meant to her, there wasn’t a thing in the world he could do to fix her relationship with her father.

She grabbed a box from the back and brought it up front, slitting open the packing tape. The rote motion of opening boxes and inspecting treasures calmed her even further.

When she checked her phone a few minutes later, she was surprised that Walker hadn’t texted or called, but Quentin had, and apparently he was working on “accessing” the footage to the storage unit. She snorted, feeling inordinately better and turned her thoughts to yesterday. To last night and this morning, now that there wasn’t anyone around to distract her.

Even with their spat this afternoon, she knew it would be supremely easy to fall head over heels for Walker again. But she wasn’t seventeen anymore, wasn’t fleeing an unbearable existence. And Walker had some things to work out on his own side. His ex had done a real number on him, and she wasn’t interested in fixing anyone at this stage in her life.

But being around him all the time and then being with him sexually had shown her what could be. If she was willing to open herself up to possibilities.

The quiet moments they’d spent over the last couple of days, reconnecting, rediscovering each other’s likes and dislikes had been revelations on their own, and she wanted them to continue.

The fact they’d slept together was going to make things trickier, simply because she wasn’t willing to put that rabbit back in the hat. She was going to enjoy Walker Landry as long as she possibly could.

More than anything, she didn’t want things to go sideways with Walker, and she wanted to keep her heart intact.

She pulled a piece of stained glass out of the box and scrutinized it as her thoughts whirled.

Yeah, it would go really well in one of the parlor windows. She set it aside and turned back to the box. She’d always known Madeliene had quirky taste, but she was finding some real treasures in here.

The scrape of a shoe was the only indication she had that someone was near her.