The Set Up (12 page)

She might have been a bitch, but she didn’t deserve to die.

No, she didn’t just die.

She was murdered.

The thought makes me shiver.

My mind is spinning with that word.

“Charlotte, are you listening to me!”

I blink a few times and look his way.

“What the fuck are you up to?”

“Nothing, Cole, I swear.”

“You purposely neglected to tell me who you are. Why?”

I feel sick. I was wrong in trying to hide my identity. “I really wanted this job, and didn’t want to bear the stigma that went along with who I am in this town.”

Fury riddles his features. “Do you even know what you cost me by lying to me?”

No answer will suffice; I know this. Who I am will cost him the Storm account. The money will be lost, his reputation tarnished. Or at least I’m certain that is how he will see it. I avert his narrowed stare and slide my gaze anywhere but at his angry expression. To the mud on the mat beneath his feet, to his shiny shoes, to the bottom of his perfectly creased pants. “Eve is dead and you’re worried about what I cost you?”

That gives him a moment of pause. “Yes, she’s dead,” he says, his voice weak enough that I know he’s feeling the emotion of it all like I am.

“So we can finish discussing this later?” I ask.

His hand cuts through the air between us and forces my gaze up. “There’s no need. You’re fired!”

I squeeze my eyes shut and just nod.

He snaps his fingers. “Did you hear me?”

My eyes open. “Cole, please—this job means everything to me.”

The bitter laugh is hard to hear. “More than likely you just cost me the biggest job of my career.”

“I understand you’re angry, but I didn’t purposely set out to sabotage you in any way. Besides, you haven’t lost the account,” I reason.

“Yet,” he spits. “Just so we’re clear, you’re done at
The Detroit Scene,
and any other blog in this country if I have anything to do with it.”

“Cole,” I plead. “I didn’t keep my identity from you to hurt you. I only wanted a chance to prove myself first.”

“Well, that chance is gone.”

“Why? I don’t understand. Who I am won’t affect you.” I almost blurt out that Jasper knows who I am and he hasn’t fired him, but I don’t.

“You’re so naïve, Charlotte. It would better serve you to shed that skin. No one will trust a word I write about Jasper or the Storm once they know my assistant is the daughter of the man who caused this town so much pain.”

Tears stream down my cheeks. “It wasn’t his fault,” I whisper.

Pissed-off anger is all I can see on his face. “And that is what will cost me even more.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have an innocent take on life. You aren’t cut out for a job like this.”

“That’s not true.”

He points his finger at me. “It is, and I’m going to do you a favor and make sure you never work in journalism again.”

With that, I stop my pleading. There’s nothing else I can say to change his mind. His anger has overtaken him and there is no reasoning with someone like that. This I know all too well. I spent years dealing with my father, and his anger. It never changed anything.

I open the car door and get out.

Defeated.

Hurt.

Alone.

Words I hate to use but words that seem to fit the situation I’m in.

Holding my head up, I make my way across the rows of parked cars and head toward the tables that have to be broken down. I need to call a cab to take me back to the hotel.

About two car rows over are Jasper and his friends. Awareness of him takes over my senses. My gaze is purposeful. I don’t care, not even when it lands on him. His long, lean body is leaning against the side of the same car I saw him driving this morning. Will is sitting on the trunk with his hands behind his neck and his head down. Drew is in the passenger seat with the door open. And Jake is pacing.

They all know I’m staring. They have to. I just can’t stop.

Is Jasper okay? I hope so.

Am I?

No, not really.

Stumbling on the uneven terrain and hardened tire tracks, I finally make my way to the area where a few people are sitting. I take a seat at one of the vacant tables and pull my phone out. Getting a cab to come out here this late isn’t going to be as easy as this morning since I’m in a bad area of town, but finally I find a company willing to take the chance to drive over here.

Now I have to wait.

Listen to the whispering.

Ignore the comments being made under hushed breaths.

People know who I am.

As soon as I gave my name to the first police officer on the scene, he asked right away if I was related to Adam Lane. And not quietly. Those around me heard me answer, “Yes. I’m his daughter.”

I am not ashamed of who I am. I am, however, ashamed of this town and their quickness to brand someone as a villain without evidence.

But then again, that’s why I’m here.

I can feel those around me staring. Feel their leers and sneers. I make myself stop crying. Stop the tears for Eve. For me. For what happened in the past.

After all, I knew this might happen when I took the job in Detroit—that people would find out who I am and hate me. Still, I came here for the truth, and I’m going to find it out before I leave.

“Miss Lane, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

The sun is setting and large spotlights have been set up to help with the crime scene investigation. Although the glare makes it hard to see, I can clearly distinguish the outline of a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit.

“I’m Sergeant John Hill, the detective in charge of this case.”

I force my fingers to stop twirling a loose strand of hair into a tight rope. “Yes, Sergeant. I’m happy to help in any way I can. Although I don’t really know how much help I can be,” I tell him. “I didn’t know Eve that well. We worked together, but that was all.”

Salt-and-pepper hair and a little more than slight creases at the corners of his eyes indicate that he’s much older than the officers I’ve already spoken with. I’d go as far as to say he must be close to retirement. He doesn’t sit down as he pulls out a notepad and a pencil. All of the officers who already spoke to me had electronic tablets, but since this man is a bit older, perhaps he is set in his ways. “I have to disagree. In this instance, you and Mr. Reynolds seem to be the closest to the victim.” He pauses for a beat, as if considering how to proceed. “Let’s start with last night. When did you last see Ms. Hepburn?”

Nerves rattle me. He’s more patronizing than any of the officers I already spoke with. “I already told all of this to the other officers.”

Cool, slate-blue eyes study me. “Yes, but if you could tell it to me that would be helpful.”

I cross my arms around myself to ward off the chill. “It was last night, before she left to go to the party.”

“About what time would you say that was?”

“I’m not certain. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“If you had to guess, what time would you say it was?”

“Nine, maybe ten.”

“Witnesses at the party say she arrived closer to ten thirty.”

“I didn’t think it was that late, but I honestly wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

The detective jots something down on his pad. “The two of you were sharing a room? Is that right?”

I nod.

“How did she seem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Her mood. How was it?”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats.

“Yes, fine.”

“And she didn’t say anything before she left that indicated she was worried or upset about anything?”

“No.” My voice is clipped.

“Are you aware of any physical relationships she might have been in?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Sexual,” he clarifies. “Are you aware of anyone she might have been involved with recently?”

“No, we weren’t that close. I already told you.”

Anxiety comes in a wave. I should tell him about Cole, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I shouldn’t know about him and Eve. I only know because Eve took me out one night under the guise of wanting to be my friend and instead warned me Cole Reynolds was off limits.

That made me curious, so one day when I was going through Cole’s email I opened one from her marked “personal.” Cole strictly forbade me from opening any of his personal emails, and yet I did.

Curiosity got the better of me.

Upon opening it, I read the steamy message over and over until realization dawned on me. I finally understood how she got the position over me.

I’m sorry for standing you up last night and I want to make it up to you. Today, I’m not wearing any panties, just the way you like it, and the thought of your hard cock inside me is all I can think about. Every time I sneak a peek at you through the glass, my clit pulses with anticipation. Every time you look at me I think about the last time you looked at me with my mouth wrapped around your cock. And every time you step away from your desk I think about the first time you bent me over it.

I’ll be in the ladies’ restroom outside your office at one. Come in, lock the door, and I’ll be waiting for you, naked, wet, and very ready.

XOXO

P.S. If you reconsider and give me that story you plan to give Vince, you can have me any way you want me.

The detective’s pencil makes a scratching noise against the paper and I direct my attention back to him. Just then he pauses with the tip of his pencil still on the pad. “Why was she going to the party?” he asks without looking up.

My hesitation must be apparent. “She’s a blogger. She went to gather information to post on her blog.”

Now he looks up. “Was.”

I look at him questioningly.

“She
was
a blogger.”

Is he trying to rattle me? Uncertain, I nod and swallow. And now I can’t stop the tears from slowly trickling out of my eyes.

“And you work for
The Detroit Scene
as well, yet you didn’t attend the party?”

“No.” I quickly wipe my tears away.

“Why?”

“I wasn’t invited.”

“But Ms. Hepburn was?”

“No, not that I’m aware of.”

More writing, and then he looks up. “You’re certain she never returned to the room?”

I draw in a deep breath. “Not while I was there.”

Although he hasn’t written that much down, he makes a show out of tucking his pencil behind his ear. “Is there anything else you can think of that could help us uncover who might have wanted to bring harm to the victim?”

The victim.

The words don’t feel like they’re real.

None of this does.

Shaken and rocked to my core, I have nothing left to say. There’s more to tell, but telling anyone about Eve’s vendetta against Jasper seems senseless. It will just target Jasper as a suspect, which is ridiculous.

The detective shifts on his feet, and I can see him better now that the light from above isn’t casting a shadow over him. He’s staring at me with a look of disdain.

Some people are adept at knowing when everything isn’t being told. Does he know I’m holding back? Am I really, though? It was a catty conversation between two women. That’s how I spin it in my head, anyway. “No. Nothing else right now.”

Pausing for another beat, he looks down, scuffs his feet in the ground, and then looks up again. “Miss Lane, your father and his business partner used to own this property, right?”

The cab I called pulls up and honks. “That’s for me.”

The detective wheels around. “Hey buddy!” he yells. “Miss Lane will be a few minutes. I’m sure you won’t mind waiting.”

The driver nods his head.

By now everyone knows who I am anyway. The one thing I wanted to avoid. The scrutiny I hoped to escape is gone. And forever more I will be known here as
that girl
. His daughter. The other guy’s partner’s daughter. Her. That girl.

“Sorry. Back to my question. Your father used to own this property, so you must have had access to it?”

I’m shaking my head. “No. My father no longer owns this property. The city foreclosed on it years ago for back taxes owed and never paid. And I wouldn’t have access to it anyway.”

He takes his pencil from his ear and scratches something on his pad. “But you would have something to gain by stopping the sale of this land at auction?”

Staring at him, I can feel his animosity. “I’m not sure what you mean or what you’re implying.”

He shakes it off. “It would be worth a lot to Jasper Storm.”

“Again, I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

“Never mind. Listen, I’m done for now. I have someone searching your room for anything that might help us uncover who did this to Ms. Hepburn. The hotel has agreed to give you another room, but you’ll need to wait a few more hours before retrieving your things.”

My eyes drift back to where Jasper was minutes ago but he, his car, and his buddies are gone. My heart drops and fills with loss. Chances are I’ll never see him again.

“Miss Lane?”

I snap my head back.

“It might be best if you remain in Detroit pending further investigation. The hotel or elsewhere.”

“Is that a legal request?”

“No, just a suggestion.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. I moved back to the city earlier this year.”

“If you live here, why were you sharing a room with Ms. Hepburn?”

I thought the questions were over.

Just then the sound of a loud engine has him turning toward the taped-off area. A blocky white van stenciled with the words medical examiner across the side parks just outside it. The driver’s-side door clangs open and slams shut. A woman with her hair pulled back wearing a white coat starts walking toward the scene.

Small droplets of rain begin to fall. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to run, but I’ll be in touch.”

I’m sure you will
.

“And the next time, it sounds like I might need to have a lawyer by my side,” I comment under my breath.

Good thing he is long gone and never heard me.

I’m certain he wouldn’t take kindly to idle threats.