How to Kill Your Boss (18 page)

Another young officer tapped on the window. “Waters. You’re gonna want to hear this.”

“What now?” Leland grunted, exited the car, and shut the door behind him.

I buried my face in my hands. Where was Franklin? What would they do to him? What line of bullshit did he feed everyone? Why did I care? He’d lied to me from day one. None of it made any sense.

I surely needed to sell my condo and move far away. Florida might be nice. I could hang with Mom and Grandpa in Panama City, play some old-folks games. People didn’t shoot each other during bingo, did they?

Leland opened the door and bent to speak to me. “Miss Wood. Officer Johnson will drive you to the station. I’ll meet you there.”

Uh, oh. I was Miss Wood again. “What’s going on?”

“We’ll discuss it in my office.” He slammed the door, shouted a few profanities, and stomped across the parking lot. I watched him trot up the stairs. Two men in dark suits stopped him halfway up. Franklin surfaced in the doorway, holding a bloodied towel to his nose.

That stupid, silly organ in my chest pitter-pattered at the sight of him. Didn’t my heart know better? Bad heart. Very bad!

The engine roared, the vehicle rolled, taking me away from the man I hated with all my might, or was at least trying to. I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. He gestured to the men in suits and Detective Waters continued up the stairs.

Shouldn’t he be in handcuffs? He’d shot at people. He had a creepy Wall-O-Tatum in his bedroom along with super-spy computers and an industrial vault.

Fire raged in my gut. Franklin should be on his way to the station, not me.

Why did he appear to be in command of the whole scene?

* * * *

Three hours. Three hours I waited for the detective to return to the station. They could’ve at least put me in a comfortable room. Not a single one of the jackasses in blue would tell me why I was there.

By the time Leland, I mean, Detective Waters, showed up, I was wound tighter than a caged lioness. “What the hell is going on?” I screamed before he shut the door behind him. Exhaustion had settled in, right next to pissed off and devastated. I couldn’t sit. The room was so small, pacing had made me dizzy, but I did it anyway. It took my mind off the garbled noises in my brain and the dull ache that emerged from my heart, seeping into my weary muscles.

The detective plopped his rear into a chair and raked his nails through the stubble on his cheeks. The circles under his eyes were darker than I’d ever seen. “Tell me again where you were this morning before you arrived at the office.”

I stood in front of the desk and folded my arms. “I was with Franklin. I told you that already. You can ask him.”

Leland stared at me unblinking.

My blood turned to ice. “I’m confused. Why are you asking me these questions again? Didn’t you bring me here to talk about what happened this afternoon? The shooting? The shit in Franklin’s apartment? What does this morning have to do with it?”

“We viewed the building’s security footage at Cruse Investigations. You entered at six-forty-five AM. The video feed went haywire. Wallace Cruse was found dead at approximately seven-thirty.”

“No. No, no, no.” I shook my head and waved a finger at him. “I was home. In my apartment. With Franklin Reed. Check the security cameras in my building.”

“We found blond hair entangled in Wallace’s fingers. The color matches yours. Will you agree to a DNA test?”

I nodded yes. I would do anything to put a stop to the absurdity of the situation.

“Good. Can you explain the emails?” Leaning back in his chair, he clasped his hands behind his head.

“What emails?” I fought hard not to scream.

“The emails you sent to Mr. Cruse.” His cheeks reddened. “The sexually explicit ones.”

This had to be a joke. Except the stone cold expression on his face assured me it was not. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” I doubled over. Detective Waters jumped from the table and scooted the trash can to my feet.

“Were you and Mr. Cruse having an affair?” he asked.

I snapped.

“Are you friggin’ crazy? Has everyone gone out of their minds? I hated him. That man made my skin crawl. He was a greedy, narcissistic, immoral fucktard who turned my father’s business into a sleaze-fest for shitheads who couldn’t keep their dicks or pussies where they belonged. I hated him. Do you hear me? Hated him.”

He hit me with a challenging glare. “Enough to kill him?”

Oh, why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? I decided it best to stop talking. I plopped my rear onto the hard metal chair, crossed my arms, and glared my anger and frustration, heartbreak and fear at Detective Waters. I shot it right smack between his eyes.

His brows crinkled, eyes saddened. He pushed from the table, walked to the door, and poked his head out. I couldn’t hear what he said to the man standing outside. Before leaving, he turned back to me. “For the record, I believe you. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, but we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Officer Johnson caught the door before it closed. “Miss Reed. I’m taking you down the hall where you’ll be more comfortable.”

I pressed my lips together. A multitude of colorful words bubbled on the tip of my tongue. Words not appropriate for a lady to speak. I would remain silent. I would.

I followed the officer down a long corridor to another tiny room with a small couch. Thank God. I ached from scalp to toes. My hand, swollen from the right hook to Franklin’s nose, throbbed a relentless beat. I hoped his face hurt and my fingernails had dug deep enough to leave scars.

The couch offered no give but was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the cold metal chairs. “Would you like some coffee?” The lanky officer asked.

I pursed my lips together and shook my head no.

“Fine then. I’ll check in on you soon.” He pulled the door shut. Then locked it.

Was it legal to lock me in? I didn’t give a shit anymore. I was relieved to be alone, somewhere safe. No dead bodies, no rose-bearing stalkers, no bullets flying at me. No Franklin. A violent tremor rattled my bones. No Franklin. Why did that terrify me?

Leland would get his facts straightened out. He didn’t believe I killed Wallace. I relaxed, knowing he was fighting in my corner, and lay back against the hard cushion. Sexually explicit emails? It was laughable.

The shit I know would blow your mind.

I'm going to burn in hell for this.

Franklin’s words spun in my head, round and round, taunting, teasing.

So fucking long. You
’
re finally mine. Jesus, Tate. So goddamn many years. You
’
re mine, finally mine.

What did that mean? How long had he been watching me?

I
’
ve loved you for so long.

The memories sliced me into a thousand pieces.

Cold gray walls narrowed and stretched ahead of me. An exit sign flashed in the distance. My legs moved impossibly fast, but the doors to freedom remained out of reach. Footsteps echoed around me. I skidded to a stop.

Hot breath blew across my shoulder, sending erotic chills across my skin. A heavy hand pressed against the small of my back, then wandered upward to stroke my hair.

“I protect what’s mine, at any cost.”

My eyes jerked open. Yellow light from the dingy bulb in the ceiling played tricks with my vision. It took too damn long to focus. A soft blanket covered me from chin to toes and my head rested on a fluffy pillow. The familiar scent of lemon-lime, lavender, and orange pervaded the air. His smell. Had he been here?

Sadness pressed on my chest like a road roller. I couldn’t breathe.

Out. I had to get out.

Every muscle protested when I jumped from the couch. I banged on the door, rattled the handle. I needed air.

Keys rattled outside. The door opened and a grumpy, disheveled Detective Waters greeted me. “Have a good sleep?”

I shook my head and drew a deep breath.

“C’mon.” He stepped aside and gestured for me to follow. “You look like shit.”

So did he, but I refused to respond. I walked behind him through the windowless hallway. When we stepped into the open area of the police station, bright sunlight scorched my retinas and shot minuscule razors straight through my brain.

Ow! I covered my eyes. “How long did I sleep? What time is it?”

A familiar voice called my name from behind. “Tatum, is that you?”

Leland clamped a hand around my arm before I could turn to look.

“Is that her?” I heard Nan shriek. “No. Let me go. Is it true? Tatum. Look at me. Did you murder him?”

I glanced over my shoulder and two officers held her steady. If looks could kill, there’d be nothing left of me but a bloodstain on the tile floor.

“Get her out of here,” Leland bellowed and hauled me into his office. “Jesus Christ. This place has turned into a goddamned circus.” He slammed the door and pointed at the chair. “Sit.”

He plopped a brown paper bag on his desk, shoved it my direction and with a grunt, ordered me to eat.

“Thank you.”

A warm breakfast croissant smiled up at me from the bottom of the sack. It smelled of bacon and buttery heaven and my stomach rumbled in agreement. I dove in with manners comparable to a wild animal. “Where’s yours?” I asked with a mouthful of greasy goodness.

He smiled as if amused at my lack of social graces. “I ate already. You want coffee?”

I nodded. “I’d blow Bigfoot for a coffee right now.”

His lip curled on the left side but he didn’t crack. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

I savored another bite and forced myself to slow down. Why was he being nice? Did something change overnight? Damn, the croissant was delicious.

“Tate?” Lizzie’s voice crackled from the doorway. “Oh, thank fuck.”

“Lizzie! What are you doing?” I’d never been so happy to see anyone and sprang from my seat. “Are you supposed to be here?”

She looked at the door, then back to me. “No. I had to make sure you were all right. I’ve been here for hours trying to flirt my way into seeing you. So”—she elbowed me—“last night, huh? Don’t get to see action like that every day.”

She must be an adrenaline junkie.

“Lizzie, they think I killed my boss.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorted, smacking my arm in a playful gesture.

I shoved the rest of my breakfast back into the bag. “I’m not joking. They locked me in a room.”

Lizzie gave me a once-over then pulled me into a hug. “Motherfuckers. In a cell?”

“Not exactly. I slept on a couch.”

She grabbed my hand and turned to peek out the door. “This is ridiculous. Have you been arrested?”

“Well, no.”

“Then what the hell are you hanging around for? Come on, I’m taking you home.” Lizzie tugged me out of Leland’s office.

“I can’t just leave. Can I?” I whispered, digging my heels into the floor.

She stopped, fists to hips, and quirked an eyebrow. “Did they order you to stay?”

“No.”

“Then we can leave.” She extended her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Follow my lead.”

My skin prickled, my head itched, I needed the little girl’s room desperately, and I was sure I had the world’s worst case of raccoon eyes. Leaving had to be wrong, but staying wasn’t doing me any good.

We snuck down the hall. Everyone went about their business. Leland was nowhere to be seen and nobody paid us any mind. Lizzie and I walked right out of the building and didn’t draw so much as a sideways glance. Wow. Who knew?

She led me to a beefy green Jeep parked close to the entrance. I climbed in and buckled up. In no time, we rolled away from the station. Cool and casual. Easy-peasy.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” I gasped, cupping my cheek and glancing out the rearview.

Her bright green eyes grew larger and she flashed me a million watt smile. “Oh. My. God. It’s adorable how sweet and innocent you are. What happened last night?” she asked, pushing the gas pedal harder than necessary.

I slunk in my chair. “Someone shot at us. Real bullets. Franklin threw himself on top of me, then went berserk. He had two guns. Two guns, Lizzie. They came out of nowhere and he looked like a damn assassin. He told me to run upstairs. I don’t know how I didn’t get shot. I should be dead right now.”

Lizzie’s jaw couldn’t have dropped any lower, but she held her gaze to the road.

I wanted to tell her about Franklin’s bedroom and share my agony. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to divulge his secrets.

“Then I heard sirens. When it was safe, I came out. They put me in a vehicle, questioned me, and took me to the station. I didn’t argue because I just wanted to be far away from there.”

Lizzie shook her head back and forth and pursed her lips as if processing my words. “Franklin was a mess.”

Nervous energy burst through my veins. “What do you mean?”

“His face looked like raw meat.” She smirked. “Someone beat the shit out of him, which I find hard to believe. I’ve seen him in action. I can’t imagine anyone getting close enough to do that kind of damage.”

I looked down at my bruised knuckles. Why had he let me assault him anyway?

“He nearly ripped my head off after everyone left.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He barged in after the parking lot cleared. Said he needed to see the photo. You know, the one I took of your stalker.”

Oh, no.

“I showed him and by his reaction, he had to know the guy. He yelled…” Lizzie lowered her voice and scrunched her face, mimicking Franklin. “That motherfucking piece of shit. This time, I kill him.” She paused and downshifted to make a sharp right. “He handed my phone back, grabbed a bottle of Jack off the wall and left.”

“Where’s your phone?” I asked. A flood of urgency burst through me.

“In my purse.” She pointed over her shoulder. I reached back and rummaged until I found her cell.

“Do you mind?” I didn’t wait for her to answer and pulled up her photos.

“It should be the first one.”

I pulled it up and zoomed in. My intestines knotted. I knew the face on the screen, too. Jay Masters. The kid my father had given a beating to in high school because he’d teased me. Jay Masters, who had steered clear of me from my freshman year through graduation.