Page 18 of Infernal Hearts

Shit, I lost him. Here I am, back at square one by myself.

Fuck.

Chapter Four

Jason

I swivel around in the office chair by the front desk, sun streaking orange throughout the lobby. Andrew and Valerie left an hour ago—and here I am waiting for Detective Rhodes. I really should have asked him for a specific time for us to meet, because now I have nothing better to do than count the boards on the floor over and over again.

At last, the gravel in the driveway crunches as a police car rolls up into the parking lot. Finally. I make my way to the porch to meet him halfway. I need some goddamn answers.

Detective Rhodes lumbers up the porch and clears his throat with a low rumble. “You’re Blackwell’s son?”

“I am. Come in.”

“No need. I’d rather stay out here, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Sure.” Either he’s not taking this seriously or he doesn’t want to be in a private space with me.

“I should have had you come down to the station, but there was too much going on.” He pulls out a pen and a notebook. “When’s the last time you saw your father?”

“About three months ago.”

“Three months is a long time. Did you two have a disagreement?”

I don’t like where this is going. “You could say that. I left his practice, and he didn’t approve.”

“Sounds like he threw you out in the cold.”

“Kind of.”

“Would you say you hold any resentment over that?”

Ireallydon’t like where this is going. “I’m sorry, am I a suspect?”

“This is all standard lines of questioning. I asked the assistant at his office the same questions, and I’m planning to do the same for anyone else he was close to. Foul play usually comes from the people closest to the victim.”

He’s so disinterested, it’s hard to have any faith in him whatsoever. “Anything else you need to know?”

“Sure. Where were you three nights ago?”

I take a deep breath, collecting myself before answering. I don’t need to implicate myself with aggressive behavior when apparently I’m already a suspect. “I was here.”

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

“Well, no, seeing as how my fiancé left me and my dad and I haven’t spoken in three months and I live alone.”

Rhodes tucks his notebook back into his pocket and pulls out a business card. He holds his hand out toward me, arm devoid of almost any tension. “I have your number if I need to get ahold of you again. Here’s mine in case you might think of anything that might help me.”

I put the card in my pocket. “Thanks. Have you found anything out so far?”

“Not particularly. This is the first day I’ve been able to get at it.”

Glad he’s so eager to help. It’s assuring beyond all belief. “Have you searched his office?”

“Yes.”

“And did you find anything?”

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