Then my eyes fall on a different paragraph on the page and my body immediately stiffens up. Jaxson Cole’s name has once again found its way into Esposito’s notes.
“Detective Esposito,” I begin but he cuts me off.
“I thought we agreed we should be on a first-name basis. Please, call me Rick,” he says.
“Okay, Rick, what is this here about Jaxson Cole?”
Rick Esposito clears his throat. “There is evidence that Jaxson Cole and Madison had a fight when they last spoke at the agency. A loud fight. People heard Madison scream. Including her friend, Rita North.”
“Why does that matter? Jax did not kill her. He was with another woman that night. On a very public date. And he never dated Madison. It was all a show.”
He considers my words, his hazel eyes focusing on mine. “I did not see any of that in your report.”
I swallowed a bug. Shit. I suffer from foot-in-mouth disease. Big time.
“I assumed you knew and Jaxson Cole wasn’t in my report because I don’t see how he’s involved with the case,” I say, licking my lips.
Esposito does something I don’t like. He wraps his fingers around my arm, almost angrily. “When did you speak to him?”
“Yesterday,” I say, staring at his hand on my arm.
“Where?”
At this point, the less I say, the better. “That hurts.”
He lets go of my arm. “Why would you meet with him, Ella?”
“He’s a family friend,” I say. “This has been hard on all of us.”
“You have to be honest with me,” he says.
Now I’m getting a little pissed which makes me cheekier. “Since when is my daily life a part of this investigation?”
Looking at Esposito’s regretful face convinces me I deserve an Oscar. I just lied to the police and did it effectively. Sometimes I surprise myself.
“Mr. Cole is not a suspect,” he says. “Not yet anyway. He’s a person of interest. You’re right, you’re not obligated to report to me who you see. However, Ella, may I be blunt?”
I nod because I can’t exactly tell him no, can I? And even if I did, he’d still let me have it.
“Stay away from him. Something tells me he’s bad news. I’m usually right about these things. Better safe than sorry.”
“Seeing Mr. Cole again is not on my calendar,” I say, “so all this is needless.” Take that, Meryl Streep. There’s nothing going on between Jax and me unless you count playing a panty-drenching game of detective.
Esposito’s phone rings but when he picks it up, he tells the person on the other end to wait. He turns to me. “Good, I’m sorry if I overstepped. Hey, do you want to have dinner at Kelly’s tonight after all this madness quiets down?”
“Kelly’s?”
“It’s a fine French bistro.” As he says those last words, he steps out of the office, phone on ear, waving the folder he’s holding with his free hand at me to get me to sit down and wait for him.
I know that Kelly’s is a French Bistro. What I don’t know is if I’m hallucinating or did Rick Esposito just ask me out on a date?
It’s suddenly raining dangerous, hot men around here. I have an urgent need to share this with my best friend. Too bad she’s vacationing in Europe. The little bitch. Actually, she’s a doll and I miss her.
The truth is there have been no signs of life from Jax today after all his eagerness to take me out. Ugh. Men.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one to call first.
All things considered, there are two possibilities—either Jaxson really likes me (gobsmack!) for some strange, fucked-up reason (ordinary girl fetish) or he has a secret agenda. An online poll would quickly produce a resounding result of 98 percent in favor of the “secret agenda”.
I take a look at the time on my phone and make a clumsy calculation in my head. It must be somewhere between nine and eleven pm in Barcelona. Mia better be available for her tormented friend—unless of course she’s getting cozy and dirty with a sexy torero. In that case, she’s off the hook.
Mia picks up right away. “Hey, babe,” she says, totally happy to hear my voice. “How’s summer treating you?”
“Where to start?” I tell her everything as accurately as I can, starting with Madison’s death and moving on to my assignment, Esposito, the club and, of course, Jaxson Cole. I tell her how fiery and sexy and out of my league he is, how he irritates me by calling me by my first and last name and how I need her to tell me that I should forget he exists.
“Ella, love, you’re in denial,” Mia says. “That’s okay. You kind of live in denial. Every man is into you. You have that little waist and that big brain and that’s more than enough to tame these dim-witted beasts called men.”