“Okay,” she said a little louder.
I reached over and grabbed her hand, lacing her fingers with mine.
“I’m gonna go keep the girls occupied,” Farrah said, standing up from the table. “Don’t stress, Molly. They’re coming to give you bad news, they’ll be nice as hell.”
She ran her hand over the top of my hair, messing it up, then walked away, stretching her arms above her head like she didn’t have a care in the world. She’d always given that impression. The whole I don’t care if you like me vibe. It had been years before she’d actually believed it, though. My Uncle Casper had a lot to do with that.
My dad met the nervous cops at the door, shaking hands and patting one of them on the back like he knew them. They spoke for a few minutes at the other side of the room until my dad pointed toward Molly. Then they headed our way.
“Molly Duncan?” the younger cop asked as they reached us.
“Yes?” Molly stood up awkwardly, looking back and forth between the men.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” the older cop asked, taking her in from head to toe.
“I was in an accident yesterday,” Molly said softly, clearing her throat when she was finished. Jesus, she looked like she was afraid they were about to arrest her.
“An accident?” the older cop asked. “Did you report it?”
“Yeah.” Molly shrugged one shoulder, wincing. “I wrecked the four wheeler I was riding. You don’t have to report that, do you?” She glanced down at me like she was asking if I knew.
“No, you don’t,” the younger cop assured her.
“She was driving?” the older cop asked me. I felt Molly bristle beside me. The guy was a douche.
“Yeah, man,” I said, reaching out to put a hand on Molly’s hip. “I was ridin’ ’bout a hundred yards behind her. Took a year off my life.”
“Did my work call you?” Molly butt in, looking back and forth between the cops. “When I went in yesterday to get my arm checked, they were pretty worried. I think they thought Will beat me up or something.” She gave an incredulous laugh as the cops raised their eyebrows. My muscles tightened, but I didn’t let my expression change. Great, Molly. Tell the cops that the hospital thought this was a domestic abuse issue. Good fucking call.#p#分页标题#e#
“Did he?” the younger cop asked, setting his hand on his gun. Christ, now she’d gone and tripped the idiot’s protective instincts. I could see his chest puffing out.
“Of course not,” Molly snapped in disgust. Hell, at least that sounded real—since it was. “I’d rip his balls off while he slept.”
The older cop coughed uncomfortably as the younger cop turned bright red.
“That’s not why we’re here, anyhow,” the older one said. He glanced at me, then back at Molly. “I’m sorry, but we found your father dead in his house last night.”
Molly staggered toward me. That was real, too.
“What?” she whispered.
“It looks like he’d been beaten,” the cop said, pausing as he looked over Molly’s face. “But we think he died from a gunshot wound.”
“Oh, my God,” Molly murmured, lifting a hand to cover her face. Real.
“Ma’am, are you sure that—” The younger cop’s words cut off as Rebel walked between him and Molly, coming to a stop with her hand wrapped around Molly’s thigh.
I think they were both surprised by Reb. She didn’t say a word as she stared at them, just watched somberly behind her black framed glasses as they shifted on their feet. Molly looked like hell, but there was no arguing that Reb looked like an angel. She was in clean clothes, her hair was pulled back from her face in a little ponytail and her specs were clearly not a discount brand. Her face was still covered in donut leftovers, but that seemed to make her look even sweeter.
“Did—did you need something from me?” Molly asked, letting her hand fall to rest on the top of Rebel’s head.
“Do you know of anyone that would want to harm your father?” the younger cop asked, his chest still puffed up with importance.
“He was a lawyer,” Molly said flatly. “I’m sure there were a lot of people, but no one that I know.”
“Have you ever seen this man?” the young cop asked, setting a photograph down on the table.
Molly inhaled sharply and jerked away, shaking her head as she got a good look at the dead Russian’s face and the steak knife stuck in the side of his neck.
“Jesus Christ,” I snapped, looking back at the cops. “You serious right now?”