Page 21 of Wicked Sin

“Probably a lot?” I say innocently. “I don’t know how much you make exactly, but…”

“You meant something specific, Taylor.”

“Did I? Oh man, it must have come and gone in this brain of mine. Trauma has a way of fucking you up big time. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. If it comes back to you, let me know.” But his jaw flexes. That’s a tell. He doesn’t like it when I play dumb.

I’ll have to do it more often.

“Let’s go over some of what we talked about earlier today, just to get it down on the record.”

“I told you I had no interest in protecting my father.”

“Sure. You also said you grew up with the constant threat of your parents being arrested. Is that accurate?”

“It was more subtle than that, but yes. They had friends who went to jail, were investigated for securities fraud, that sort of thing. It would be a casual conversation at a dinner party—of course, you don’t say anything when detained. Of course, you just ask for an attorney, they make that go away. Pass the salad, Karen. That sort of thing.”

“And who is Karen?”

I burst out laughing, but it’s short and hollow. “Uh, it’s just a saying.”

“All right.”

“You’re no fun when you’re on the record.”

“Is he fun off the record?” Detective McBride asks from the door.

“Not really.” I try to think of a way to better describe what it was like to grow up with limitless money and non-stop stress.

At any point, it could have all disappeared like it finally did today. But since it didn’t, we got to live the high life. Even when my father murdered a sex worker—yes, really—we kept on skating.

You’d think murder would be the worst crime possible, but it turns out hiding money from the Feds gets the real investigative powers going. Fucking hell.

And now I’m here, in a small, musty room with mirrored glass, trying to explain a life that is really inexplicable.

There are many times over the last three years that I’ve wondered if I made the right decision by not running further. Not hiding under a new identity. This is one of those times. I could be on a beach somewhere right now, where bank accounts can’t be seized by the government.

You wouldn’t like yourself very much if you’d done that.

True. But I’d probably be so drunk or high it wouldn’t matter.

I lift my chin and stare my interrogator in the face. I have nothing to hide. “What else do you want to get recorded for posterity, Detective Vasquez?”

“We spoke briefly about your affair with a married man.”

A married man. Ha. If only it were that simple. “Yes.”

“You indicated you didn’t believe that was connected to this incident.”

“Correct.”

“Are there any other affairs that we should know about?”

Shame slams into me, and I can feel my cheeks getting hot. “None recently.”

“Infidelity is a prime motive for violent crimes, Ms. Reid.”

“Once upon a time, a long time ago, I had fucked up relationships with a lot of people. That all ended years ago. Now the only fucked up relationship I have is with myself. Okay?”

---