I shrug and smile bashfully, like Sean and I are into kinky things. The cop inhales suddenly, and it’s way too loud. My outfit screams proper, refined, and totally average, but the card throws him off. The cop asks, “Why’d he give it to you?”
I smile, and look at the carpet and say the first lie I can conjure. “I was looking for a place to have a bachelorette party. He said he knew this place.”
The cop glances at my ring, and then at Sean who has a stoic expression and doesn’t speak. Sean’s hands are in his pockets, as if he’s bored. The two police officers look at one another, as if they know they’re missing something, but neither is sure what. It seems like it lines up, thank God. The last thing I need is for them to think I’m lying.
Sean finally lets out an irritated sound and says, “Gentlemen, can we please figure out who killed the woman in my room so I can get on with business?”
Holy fuck, his voice is cold. Sean makes the woman’s death sound like an inconvenience on the same level as missing a train. The words send a shiver down my spine. Sean tips his head toward me—bidding me good night—turns on his heel, and heads back to the room. I watch him disappear behind the door, and pass that lifeless body. He doesn’t flinch, or look down at her. There’s no indication that he’s upset in any way, which is really disturbing. The thing is, I know this is the way he acts when he has his guard up. Sean becomes a rock, this stoic man completely devoid of emotion. It’s damning because he looks like a freaking sociopath.
At that moment, I wonder what’s really going through his mind, and if he’s angry, worried, or what. That woman is dead. Someone killed her and I don’t think Sean knows any more about it than I do.
My mouth feels like it has weights hanging from the corners, making me frown. Staring at her dead hand, I ask, “Who is she?” My voice warbles slightly as my hand lifts to my heart.
I gawk at the sheet, thinking everything and nothing. It’s one of those weird moments where so many thoughts and fears are rushing through my mind that I can’t see any of them. They’re a squall of storms, devastating and powerful, reminding me that life is fleeting, as if I didn’t already know.
I can’t help it, I start shaking. My reaction is involuntary, and I have no idea how Sean can compartmentalize so well that he could step over her without showing any concern. I’m all emotion, and the turmoil within me is gaining speed, ripping away the small fraction of control that remains. My stomach twists and my throat constricts as the contents of my stomach threaten to come up. I cover my mouth and look away as sweat beads across my forehead.
The detective swears, before saying, “Get her out of here before she’s sick.” The cop nods and takes my elbow, and turns me toward the elevators as his boss walks back toward Sean. There are more people in the room. I hear their voices, but never saw their faces.
The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. The cop walks me inside and tells me to hold the rail, before pressing the button for the lobby. His dark gaze lifts and meets my pale, sweaty face. He shoots me a look of pity and smiles. “Don’t worry, miss. It’s not someone you would know. The woman was a prostitute. Go down to the bar and ask for a lemon. Suck on it and the queasy feeling will settle.”
All I can do is nod. The doors slip shut and I’m alone.
CHAPTER 2
Time passes strangely in the next few moments. It feels like I’m in my body and watching from above at the same time. My steps from the elevator feel heavy and light. Contradictions flood me and I have no idea why. The cop’s words ring in my ear, his raspy, deep voice continues like a never ending echo. “The woman was a prostitute.”
I hear the sound of my heels clicking on the marble floor and continue quickly toward the bar. I don’t have any alcohol wipes in my purse and my throat is too tight. Add to that the torrent in my stomach and if I don’t get a lemon in the next two seconds, I’m going to lose it.
The people around me register as noise. I don’t know anyone, I don’t see anyone. I’m engulfed in my own personal hell that hovers around me like a cloud. As I step into the bar, a hand lands on the crook of my arm and yanks.
My reaction is instant. I whirl around with my fist already balled, throwing all my weight into the swing with my arm. The man catches my fist in his palm and holds it for a second.
“Avery, calm down. Where the hell did you go? I need to get you out of here.” It’s Gabe. I can’t calm down enough to let out a sigh of relief. My entire body is strung tight and ready to pop.