Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“We can do that. But then we’re going to have to go down to the police station so I can finish my questions.”
“Great.” Jagger lifted his cell. “I’ll tell my lawyer to meet us there.”
Detective Manning, whom I’d just met when he arrived with Detective Wallace, closed his notebook. “Sorry, Ms. Holland. We’re going to finish taking your statement down at the police station.”
I looked over, and my eyes met Jagger’s. “Okay. I’ll have my lawyer meet us there, too.”
CHAPTER 38
* * *
Sutton
“I think I’m going to head home.”
My mother frowned. “What? No. You barely even slept last night.”
I didn’t point out that I actually hadn’t slept a wink. How could I after the last seventeen hours? When we’d left Silas’s apartment, I’d gone down to the police station, where Edmund’s lawyer, Kent, had met me. It hadn’t actually been necessary since I didn’t have anything to hide, but I didn’t want to say or do anything that might incriminate Jagger. The police detectives had asked me questions for about an hour and then thanked me and told me I was free to go. Jagger, on the other hand, was not. As far as we knew, he was still there now, at ten o’clock the next morning.
“I’ll sleep better at home.”
Edmund walked down the hall, fresh from the shower. I looked at him and didn’t even have to speak. He shook his head. “Still nothing.”
My shoulders slumped. “They can only keep him for a few more hours, right? Kent said they could question him for up to twenty-four hours.”
“Unless they decide to charge him. But if that’s happened, we’d know about it because all hell would break loose in the media.”
I blew out a heavy breath.
“That would be absolutely ridiculous,” Mom said. “He had to do the police’s job for them.”
Edmund frowned. “He held the guy at gunpoint, Mia.”
“The man is a violent criminal. He was just holding him until the police arrived.”
I loved my mother for defending Jagger, but her point of view wasn’t exactly correct. Jagger had had no intention of calling the police, and I couldn’t even bring myself to think about what he might’ve done if I hadn’t gotten there in time.
I stood. “I’m going home.”
Mom pointed. “Edmund will drive you.”
I shook my head. “I need the fresh air.”
“You can put the windows down in the car.”
I smiled. “Thank you. But I really need to do this on my own.”
“I don’t understand why—”
Edmund interrupted. “Mia, she’s safe now. Give her a little room.”
Mom threw her hands in the air. “Is anyone ever really safe in this City? We should think about moving.”
I went to my mom and hugged her. “Thank you for everything.” I smiled. “Don’t think it went unnoticed that you were up at six o’clock this morning.”
Mom pouted. “I would have puffy eyes for you every day if you needed me.”
I smiled and kissed her cheek. “I know you would.”
My mother’s apartment was seven stops away on the Six train, but I got off after five so I could walk a little. The late-morning sun cast a golden glow over Manhattan, making it feel softer than it was, and the normally bustling sidewalks were sparse even for a Saturday. Manhattan felt mellow, as if it were exhaling along with me.
A young woman in pajamas and Uggs walked a poodle with its tail dyed pink while talking on her phone. An older couple strolled arm in arm, him wearing a gray-checked newsboy cap and her a red fascinator. A woman smacked the hood of a taxicab that had almost run over her feet turning against the light. Everything felt almost…normal.
A block from my building, my phone buzzed with the Google alert I’d set up last night for Jagger’s name. My heart raced as I prepared to open it and find a headline saying he’d been arrested. But it turned out to be an article about Apex settling with the DOJ. Before I tucked my phone back into my pocket, I went to my contacts, scrolled to Jagger’s name, and hit call. It went right to voicemail, without even ringing, same as it had the dozen other times I’d tried since last night.
I stopped at the food truck on my corner and picked up my third—or maybe it was my fourth, I’d lost count—coffee for the day and waved to Nestor, the doorman, who was on the phone as I walked in. I stepped off the elevator and checked my phone for the gazillionth time, hoping maybe my service had been spotty on the ride up and a message had come in. No luck. Still no text from Jagger. But two strides down the hallway, movement up ahead caught my eye, and I froze for a heartbeat thinking it might be Silas. At least until I saw the man rise to his feet.