“That’s correct,” Casey confirmed.
A knock came at the door. Gabriella walked over and opened it to one of the junior detective’s on her team. Casey stiffened beside me and we watched as he muttered something in her ear. Gabriella’s face gave nothing away as he spoke and when he finished, she nodded once, shut the door, and returned to the table.
“We have security footage in custody of your interaction with Morgan at the bar. You’ll need to excuse me so I can view it.”
I began to stand.
“Siéntate!” she snapped at me. “Sit your ass down! This is not your case.”
“You can’t stop me from viewing the footage,” I replied, incredulous.
Her nostrils flared. “I am in charge here. I can stop you from doing whatever the hell I damn please. Now you can wait here with Casey or I can have him placed in a holding cell. What’s it to be?”
Goddammit. Gabriella wasn’t giving an inch. It pissed me right the fuck off. I shoved the emotion aside. Now was not the time.
I sat down, my eyes hard as stone. “I’ll wait.”
Casey made an unhappy sound and she shifted her gaze, softening just the smallest fraction. “Look at me, Casey,” she ordered. He met her eyes. “I’m going out there right now to brief my team. I’ll have them all working every possible lead to find Grace and I’m going to do everything I can to get you cleared. I believe someone has spent considerable energy setting you up, but what I want to know is, why? What do they get out of it? Revenge? Hmm…” she shrugged “…maybe, but I’m not buying it. If this is the work of the Sentinels, then it’s because you’re sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted, but then they would just kill you rather than Grace.” Casey flinched at her casual mention of killing Grace. “Something is not adding up for me, and it’s something to do with the death of your parents, isn’t it?”
Gabriella tapped a finger against her lips. “Maybe releasing you might force them to play their hand. I need to talk to Burns,” she muttered to herself and strode to the door.
“Wait here,” we were told and she left the small room.
Ten hours earlier…
I slammed the cab door shut, my pulse racing as the cabbie zoomed off into the street. I forced my eyes to the front because if I turned around and saw Casey standing by the kerb, I’d lose it. I’d tell the driver to slam on the brakes and I’d leap out and start running back, just like in the movies.
Five seconds.
That was how long I lasted.
Twisting in my seat, I looked out the back window but there were too many people. I couldn’t see him.
“It’s too late, Grace. I lose you and it’s game over for me.”
“I’m sorry, Casey,” I whispered, turning back around. I was supposed to find myself in Sydney, let myself really live, before returning home stronger, ready to face treatment. I wasn’t supposed to find love and then destroy the man who found it right along with me.
“Where to, love?” the cabbie asked.
Oh God, really?
He might as well have asked me to unlock the magical, sparkling door to the Fairy Kingdom and take him to meet the Queen of Mystical Beings.
My head spun from the champagne and I closed my eyes. My first instinct was to head to the loft and I shot it down quickly. The look on Casey’s face had broken my heart. How could I go back when it was me who put it there?
“Bitch,” I mumbled to myself.
Where should I go?
I opened my eyes, suddenly realising there was only one person who would understand and tell me what to do.
Dad.
Tears filled my eyes. I needed my dad.
Resolving to catch the redeye flight to Melbourne, I directed the driver to Sydney airport and reached for my phone. I’d send Casey a message to tell him where I was. He might still be pissed at me for running off, but at least he wouldn’t worry. I could fly back in the morning and we could talk then.
After digging in my purse, I remembered my phone was currently in pieces all over the function room of the Florence Bar. Another day, another pulverised phone.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“You okay, love?” the cabbie questioned, glancing at me in his rearview mirror.
“Yes,” I lied. “Why?”
Did I have something on my face? I brushed at my cheeks, finding them wet and realised I was crying. How odd that I didn’t even know.
I wiped at my face with both hands, likely smearing makeup over my face. The press would have a field day if they caught me like this.
“Why?” he echoed. “Because we arrived at the airport five minutes ago and you’ve just been sitting there cursing to yourself.”