“I don’t know!”
“Tyler!” Nick dropped his pen and rubbed his hands over his face. “Do you realize you may have seen the killers and you can’t even tell me what fucking color their hair was?”
“I’m sorry! I guess I don’t check people out like I used to.”
Nick groaned. “I’ll be sure to inform Garrett that your eyes don’t wander. Did he see them as well?”
“Yeah.”
Nick shook his head in disgust, glaring at Ty. “You’re the worst witness ever.”
“I know.”
Nick grunted and picked up his pen again. “Anything else you didn’t see?”
“No, but you don’t have to be snippy about it.”
Nick fumed for a second. “What time did you return to your room?”
“One, maybe.”
“And who was with you?”
Ty sighed.
“Ty, just answer the fucking questions, okay?”
Ty rolled his eyes. “Zane was with me.”
“And you remained there?”
“Yes. I got tied up in the curtains.”
Nick squeezed his eyes closed. “Why would you tell me that?”
“No, I mean I literally got tied up in the curtains. I got stuck. Zane left me there.”
Nick glanced up, frowning.
Ty rolled his eyes, blushing a little. “I got tangled in the curtains and I couldn’t stop laughing, so Zane left me there and I fell asleep.”
“You mean you passed out drunk.”
“If that’s what they call ‘sleeping’ in Boston, sure.”
“So . . . could Zane have left the room at any point?”
Ty frowned, shifting on his stool. “I guess.”
Nick gave a curt nod and jotted it down.
“Did you just write that down?” Ty asked with an accusatory point.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m writing everything down, Ty.”
“You didn’t write down that you and Deacon were getting high in the garden!”
“Because it wasn’t pertinent to the murder.”
“Neither is Zane leaving me passed out drunk in the curtains!”
“I thought you said you weren’t drunk.”
“Don’t try to confuse me to get a confession, damn you!”
“Tyler, come on!”
“This is police brutality!”
“I swear to God, Beaumont . . .”
Ty glowered for a moment. “Okay, so is that all?”
“Yeah.”
“Your turn?”
Nick’s stomach tangled up, but he nodded and slid the pad across the bar top. “Go for it.”
Ty ran through the same questions Nick had been asking all morning. With every answer, Nick got more and more nervous. He’d probably fail a fucking lie detector test at this point.
“What time did you return to your room?” Ty asked.
“Just after midnight.”
“And you were there the remainder of the night?”
“I was.” Nick watched as Ty’s pen moved across the pad. He swiped his palms across his knees, trying to steel himself for what was coming.
“What did you do in your room the remainder of the night?”
Nick swallowed hard. “I was in bed.”
Ty raised his head. “You were in bed or you were sleeping?”
Nick stared at him, holding his breath. “I was in bed.”
Ty’s eyebrows shot up, and he straightened. He almost looked like he’d been expecting the answer, like maybe he’d heard enough through the wall last night to know Nick hadn’t been sleeping, but he still seemed perturbed by it. “I gather you weren’t alone.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Nick answered. He took a deep, shaky breath. “Look, Ty, this is not the way I wanted to tell you about this. We were waiting until after the wedding stuff died down so you wouldn’t freak out and go nuclear when you’re already under stress.”
Ty narrowed his eyes. He placed the pen on his pad of paper, the movement briefly drawing Nick’s eyes. “Who?” Ty asked, his voice going low and dangerous.
“Oh, Ty, don’t freak out.”
“Who were you with, O’Flaherty?”
Nick couldn’t get enough air to take a breath to steady himself, much less extract a promise from Ty to remain calm. “I was with Kelly,” he said in a rush.
Ty stared, his brow furrowing and the tension seeping out of his shoulders. “Kelly who?”
Nick frowned. “Kelly. Our Kelly. Doc.”
Ty was still staring like he didn’t understand, his head cocked like a puppy hearing a new sound. He glanced at the door, then at Nick again. “You were fucking Kelly?”
“Yes.”
Ty was silent for several more seconds, then barked out a laugh. “I thought you were talking about Emma!”