Stirred (33 page)

So if I didn’t, who did, and why? My mind kept going back to Eden. Even with the burn of her betrayal fresh in my heart, I couldn’t believe she was any more capable of murder than I was. But as much as I loved her, did I really know her? She’d seemed so genuine the first time we met at that bar. And her reluctance at getting involved with me had seemed so real.

Then again, maybe Eden was simply opportunistic and had found me the perfect scapegoat for something she’d wanted for years—an end to her loveless marriage without risking all she’d gained during it. I had to admit, if that was her intention, she’d proven herself a manipulator more masterful than even Trinitee, and I the ideal fall guy—a chump, a dupe—an impetuous, lovesick fool.

I felt even more of one when Detective Reed and Officer Amari escorted me down a long hall on the second floor at the precinct house. They hadn’t bothered to process me yet—no formal booking with photographs or fingerprints. Seemed they wanted to further question me first. Reed coded into one small room, then shut the door when he saw it was occupied, but not before I had a chance to peek inside.

I practically tripped when I recognized Eden’s son, Ian, being questioned by a rather beautiful female cop in plain clothes, likely another detective. But I had little time to consider why he might be there when, while passing an office with a large hallway window, I spied Eden, sitting seemingly at ease in a comfortable upholstered chair opposite a large desk cluttered with paperwork. There was a man sitting behind the desk, chatting pleasantly with her, and another, a very old one in an expensive three-piece suit, sitting in a matching chair next to her, but I barely registered either. My gaze was glued on Eden as we locked eyes. It only took two or three seconds to pass that window, but so much became clear in that miniscule amount of time.

First off, while I had no idea how long she’d been there, she appeared remarkably composed for someone being held at a police station following the murder of her husband and best friend. A steaming coffee mug and a plate with a half-eaten bagel sat on the outside corner of the desk, right in front of Eden. She wasn’t cuffed, and though she looked exhausted, her eyes red and puffy, she wasn’t crying. 

Her expression changed, however, when our eyes met. Through the open door, I heard her intake a sharp breath just before she jumped to her feet with both hands at her mouth.

“Sean…oh my God,” she whispered.

For a fraction of a second, a small part of me wondered whether that was all an act for the benefit of the ever observant cops. But I pushed that thought aside and reminded myself how genuine she was, utterly transparent. There was no denying that fact when I looked into her eyes—those gorgeous, fiery emeralds I’d grown so fond of. The world seemed to slow to a crawl once I sank into those eyes, and every past moment I’d stared into them came into sharp focus. The kiss in that bathroom, seeing her again at the book signing and all that had followed in the bar and on the hood of her car, our encounters at her school, then our date, the train, and lastly, claiming her on her husband’s bed. So much had happened in such a short span of time, hardly more than a month, and yet, I’d fallen for her—hard. And it hadn’t taken that whole month either.

While I discarded the notion of love at first sight, I couldn’t deny the palpable chemistry between us, nor how that had led to me losing my heart to Eden. I’d even told her so just yesterday at the falls. And though she never spoke the words back to me, I believed, in every cell of my being, that she felt the same, because I saw it reflected in those eyes. I
know
I did. I
know
what I saw, and in that very last second I passed by that window, I saw it again. There was no disguising it.

Even if she could, she didn’t have the opportunity to hide her true feelings. She was too shocked at seeing me there, being pulled down the hall in handcuffs by two cops. And I realized then, I
did
know her. Eden wore her true feelings, plain as day, splashed across on her face. She was hardly capable of the duplicity required to conceal it.

Eden Ross loved me. Of that I was certain.

While everything else was muddled or completely unknown, at least I knew that, and, in an instant, it gave me comfort and a sense of resolve that I could get through this, that the truth would set us both free. So I returned her call with one of my own.

“Eden,” I breathed, hoping I returned what she’d given me—a release from doubt.

Now I just had to convince the cops.

I had ample time to mull over how when Reed and Amari dumped me into a small interrogation room. They shoved me down into a sturdy metal chair and cuffed me to a ring along the outside edge of the three-by-five-foot table placed in the center of the room. Both men turned around and headed back out into the hall.

“Be right back,” Reed said before he closed the door, leaving me alone, though I could feel the heated stare of suspecting eyes from behind the large plate of two-way glass set into the wall opposite me.

Reed didn’t return as promised. He left me simmering in my own paranoia—no steaming coffee mug, no bagel, no chance to use the toilet, not even a bottle of water. Just me and my vivid imagination.

Finally, nearly three hours later, the door opened, and Detective Reed walked in. He took a seat across from me and placed a manila folder on the table, which he opened, then removed four photographs of Trin’s ruined sweats. And any relief I’d found in Eden’s eyes evaporated at the sight of those bloodstains.

Still, after a cursory glance at the evidence, I looked up at Reed and raised my brow in question. I would let him come to me. I was done giving him free information. But I wasn’t ready to ask for a lawyer quite yet. Doing so would shut everything down, and I needed time with Reed every bit as much as he needed it with me. It was the only way I could glean what little information they were willing to share, and I had to know as much as possible of what they were privy to.

Reed nodded at the photos between us. “What can you tell me about these?” he asked.

“I already told you,” I replied, curt but polite.

“Tell me again.”

I sighed. “I went to Trinitee’s in muddy clothes. She told me to shower and grab some sweats from her clean laundry, which I did.”

“And afterwards?”

“I joined her in her room. She was studying. She gave me a couple shots of tequila. Then I left.”

Reed’s brow bunched up. “Why? What did you go there for in the first place? If you just needed a shower, why not go home? Why go see Ms. Marsh?”

“I wanted her help with something, but after having time in the shower to think it over, I realized she probably wasn’t the best person to turn to.”

“What did you want to discuss?”

“That’s personal.”

Reed leaned his elbows on the table and looked me hard in the eye. “Son, I’m afraid you no longer have the luxury of personal. You’re about to have not only the Seattle P.D. crawl up your ass, but the federal government, as well.”

“What?” I asked, my heart lodged in my throat. “Why? Isn’t this a local issue?”

“It is, but the victim was under investigation by the FBI.”

“The FBI? For what?”

“Take your pick: securities fraud, investor adviser fraud, mail fraud, wire fraud, money laundering, theft…” he said, ticking off each along his fingers.

I sat back in my chair with a snort, a smile on my face. “Well, there’s your motive. So why’re you bothering with me? I never met the guy. And I doubt the FBI will be even remotely interested in me.”

“But you were nailing his wife, and for quite a few weeks, weren’t you, Mr. Bennett?”

“We weren’t—”

“Oh, I think you were,” he interrupted. “We have your text messages, and they’re pretty clear.”

I glared at Reed. “What I meant was, there’s more to our relationship than just sex.”

His brow lifted. “Really? I suppose you’re gonna tell me you two are in love.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we are.”

“And she agrees? She told you she was in love with you?”

“No, not in so many words, but—”

“
But
…she’s married. Or…she was, so…what was your plan, Mr. Bennett?”

I clenched my teeth. “She
told
me she wanted to leave—”

“
Wanted
to?” he echoed. “That doesn’t mean she intended to.”

“I think she did, but she has…or…had…a lot to lose.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Everything, I guess. I don’t know any details of how she and her husband managed their estate, but, from what Eden told me, her husband was the sort to make sure she came away with nothing if she ever left him.”

Reed nodded. “And if Mr. Ross should die before Mrs. Ross?” he asked. “I bet she didn’t have the same concerns, huh?”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t know.”

Again, his brow climbed, making his forehead crease. “But…I thought you were third-year law, top of your class?”

I nodded.

“Then you
would
know, wouldn’t you?”

I shook my head. “How would I? I told you, I’ve no knowledge of their estate.”

Reed sat back and crossed his arms. “Really?” he said in a taunting tone that made me squirm.

He looked over his shoulder at the two-way glass, and ten seconds later, my stomach flipped when the man Eden had been talking to earlier stepped in with a small evidence bag containing a document. Reed took it, and the other guy left when Reed slid it in front of me. At the top, it read, “
Last Will and Testament of Declan MacKenzie Ross
.”

My heart started to pound a little harder. Then Reed turned the bag over, and scrawled across the label were my name, address, the date,
home office
, and the description of the contents. I jumped out of my seat, making my chair scrape harshly against the dated vinyl tile beneath it. I stared at the bag and shook my head.

“No way. That is
not
mine,” I insisted. “I mean, I’ve never seen it before, so…if you found it at my house, it was planted there.”

Reed threw me a look like he didn’t believe a word I said.

“I swear, I’ve
never
seen that document.”

“Mr. Bennett, your prints are all over it.”

“What?” I shrieked, like honest-to-God shrieked. “No, that’s…that’s impossible.” I felt ready to puke. I sat back down along the edge of my chair, my forehead lowered to my hands on the table. “What the fuck is going on?” I groaned to myself. “Who would set me up like this?”

“You have any enemies, Mr. Bennett?” Reed asked.

Yeah, like I would fall for him believing me. Still, I raised my head and met his gaze.

“What about Ms. Marsh?” he suggested.

I shook my head. “No, she…we’re friends. Good friends. You can ask her.”

“Well, I would if I could, Mr. Bennett, but she’s not answering her phone, and, when we conducted a wellness check, she didn’t answer the door either, so we entered her residence under warrant to see if she was okay…”

“And? Was she?” I asked, annoyed I had to.

“We didn’t find
her
there, but…I’m troubled by what we
did
find.” Again, he paused for effect.

I was growing leery of his tactics, and sighed in frustration. “And what would that be, Detective?”

“Besides your muddy clothes, you mean?” he baited with an arched brow. “Well, I’ll tell ya, Mr. Bennett, we found blood in the bathroom—where we also discovered your clothes, muddy, as forewarned—and in Ms. Marsh’s bedroom, as well. Along with your fingerprints.”

“Ha! You haven’t booked me yet. How could you possibly match my fingerprints to anything?”

“You’re right. You caught me there. But we did match prints taken from your car, your home. It’s just a matter of time ‘til we make it official.”

I slumped back in my chair, dazed. I’d said too much. I knew almost as soon as the words had left my mouth. But damn, Reed was good. Fast. Sharp. Had me on the defense from square one, then blasted away until I revealed what could be construed as motive—for both me and Eden. Nothing an experienced attorney couldn’t fix. Or so I told myself. But it was more than that. I was worried. Not just for me and Eden, but for Trinitee, too. Where was she, and what in God’s name had happened at her place?

I swallowed hard. “Do you know whose blood it is?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

He offered me a bleak grin. “A little early to know for sure, but…prelim report ties the blood to two people.”

“What?” I asked, growing more dismayed by the second. “There was blood from
two
different people?”

Reed shook his head. “No. One person. Two matches,” he explained with two fingers raised. “Both connected directly to you, Mr. Bennett.”

“Wait,” I said, even more confused. “I don’t understand. Connected
to
me, but not
actually
me?”

“No. The blood matched saliva samples found on a toothbrush in Ms. Marsh’s bathroom.”

I closed my eyes as my chin dropped to my chest. “Shit.”

“It also matched blood-type antigens from a cheek swab provided by Mrs. Ross.”

My whole body snapped to attention, my eyes wide and pinned on Reed’s. “Matched? Like how? Because there’s no way you had time for a DNA analysis.”

“No, just blood-type so far. But both are AB negative, and only point-seven percent of all Caucasians are AB negative, so to get two in one case is extraordinary.”

I sat back in my seat again, mulling over each detail as I tried to sort it all out in my head. My suspicions were growing. I glanced up at Reed once more. “Why are you telling me all this? If I’m a suspect, why share all your information? Makes no sense.”

He grinned. “Perhaps not everything is as it seems, Mr. Bennett.”

I snorted. “What’s that supposed to me?”

He shrugged then collected the photos and document and closed them back up into his folder. “You’re a third year law student. You figure it out.”

That said, he saluted with the file and left the room.