Page 188 of A Curse On Black Lake
“Is it?” he asks.
I scowl. “What do you have?” I ask.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you the details of an open investigation,” he says plainly.
“Bullshit. You want him here for some reason,” I say, watching every minute reaction.
“You can come to the hearing tomorrow. Bail will be set for Killian,” Wyatt says.
Hot and furiousragebubbles in my stomach. I want to rip him apart. I want to scream until I’m hoarse.
Wyatt observes me with a dark look in his eyes, and I’ve seen it before, and even now I’m not sure what to make of it. Killian didn’t either.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But let me see him, please. You know how phones are, and I don’t have one.”
“How do you know you’re his phone call?” Wyatt asks.
I force a deep breath into my lungs to calm down because I would backhand him if it wouldn’t get me in trouble, and Killian can’t afford to have that right now.
“Let. Me. See. Him,” I grit out. If he doesn’t agree, I really will knee him in the balls.
“Fine, you have fifteen minutes,” he says, and I follow him out of the office to another door where a few jail cells are built into the side of the building in a large room. Long, narrow windows sit at the top of the walls, impossible to escape.
“Eliana?” Killian says.
I hurry over to him, and he reaches through the bars.
“Baby, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here,” Killian says and looks over my shoulder.
I follow his line of sight to Wyatt.
“Some privacy, please?” I snap.
Wyatt rolls his eyes and lets the door slam behind him.
Turning back to Killian, I squeeze his hand. “Don’t tell me what to do, of course I’m here. I was trying to get you out, but they won’t listen. Why isn’t anyone listening to us?” My voice breaks.
“The judge is going to set bail tomorrow,” he says.
“That’s what Wyatt said. I’m going to get you out.”
“It’s going to be high. More money than either of us has,” he says sadly, dragging a thumb across my cheekbone.
I ignore him and turn my head, kissing his palm.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to be in here long. I’ll get you out. We have evidence,” I whisper.
“No, we can’t. There’s no way to prove what we found could be linked to the killer,” he says and glances at the door.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” I cry.
“You’re going to go home, you’re going to go check on your goats, pet Tiny, and feed the others. And you’re going to crawl into our bed, and sleep. After that, you’re going to come to the bail hearing so I can see you, and make sure you’re okay and …”
“And then what?” I ask him.
His shoulders drop, and he puffs out a breath. “I don’t know, darlin’. I haven’t thought that far yet.”
“I have,” I whisper. The idea came to me when I spoke to Wyatt.
