Page 35 of Last Date
I gave a humorless laugh. “I have absolutelynomotive.”
“Says you.” He shrugged. “I’m sure when we dig a little, things will become clearer.”
“Dig away. I have nothing to hide.”
“I guess we’ll see.” Detective Bergen moved to the door that led outside. “Let’s go up on deck. I need some fresh air.”
Feeling frustrated, I followed the others out onto the deck. As Detective Bergen peppered us with questions, other police officers and official-looking people arrived. They donned booties and gloves with grim expressions and disappeared down into Allister’s quarters. I told Detective Bergen about the guy in the hoodie, but he didn’t seem that interested. I had the awful feeling that, if it was foul play, he thought he had his man: me.
At one point, the fireworks show began, but I barely looked at the colorful bursts overhead. I kept going over the night, trying to think if I’d seen or heard anything I should tell the police. If Allister hadn’t simply tripped or passed out and hit his head, had he known his attacker? If there had been a struggle, wouldn’t it have looked like it? Wouldn’t someone on the boat have heard a ruckus? Surely while fighting for his life, Allister might have knocked over a lamp or called for help?
“Hey, O’Connor, I’m talking to you.” Detective Bergen sounded impatient.
I met his resentful gaze. “Sorry. I was distracted.”
“I said you can go home for now.” Detective Bergen had to raise his voice to be heard above the explosions in the sky.
Surprised he wasn’t dragging me to the station in handcuffs, I stood. “That’s great. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. We’ll be in touch. There will be more questions, so don’t plan on going anywhere,” Detective Bergen said.
“Of course.” Not waiting for him to change his mind, I nodded goodbye to Selena and Captain Roscoe and headed for the stairs.
As I climbed down the stairs, I noticed a crowd had formed on the dock near the yacht. There was crime scene tape to keep people back, but reporters still snapped photos of the yacht and anyone who they thought might play a role in the upcoming weeks. I slipped under the tape and tried to make my way down the dock toward the parking lot.
Because I’d come from the boat, the reporters descended on me like bees on honey. I was jostled around a bit as I pushed my way through the throng. They shouted questions at me:Is Allister Green really dead? Did you see who killed him? What was your relationship with Allister Green?
Keeping my head down, I ignored them and wiggled my way through the crush of bodies as quickly as possible. I knew I should call Helen and tell her what had happened. If the police needed to talk to me again, I might need to take part of tomorrow off. I couldn’t seem to make myself call her though. I didn’t want to have to brace myself against her shock and horror. I didn’t have the energy for it at the moment.
I was relieved when I finally made it to my truck. I sat in the cab of my vehicle, uncertain of what to do next. Was it too early to call a lawyer? No one had actually charged me with anything yet, but I got the feeling Detective Bergen wanted to. He’d come very close a few times during his interview. Ultimately though, he’d allowed me to leave.
Bone-tired, I’d planned on going home. Somehow instead, I ended up on Thomas’ street. I’d forgotten all about his Valentine’s Day party until I had trouble finding a parking spot anywhere near his house. I walked down the dark street toward his home, feeling like a zombie. I wasn’t clear on why I’d even come. I think I just didn’t want to be alone.
Music pounded from inside the house, and people were in the front yard laughing. Everyone was having a wonderful time, completely unaware Allister Green was dead. It felt surreal, wandering into that happy, living energy after what I’d just been through.
I recognized a few of Thomas’ firemen buddies, but I didn’t stop to talk to them. I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone.So why am I here?I stopped walking. What was I doing? I was behaving erratically. I shouldn’t have come here. If I found Thomas and told him about Allister, I’d ruin his night too. Was that really what I wanted?
Blowing out a shaky breath, I turned and headed back toward my truck. There were a lot of confusing emotions rolling around inside of me. The what-ifs would probably haunt me for a long time: If I’d arrived for my date five minutes early, instead of five minutes late, would Allister be alive? What if I’d checked on him sooner? Would Allister be alive? If I’d just performed CPR better, would Allister be alive?
If I hadn’t failed somehow, would Allister still be alive?
I reached my truck, and groaning, I leaned on the warm hood, resting my head in my arms. I was so confused and agitated. What I needed to do was go home and sleep. Maybe have a stiff drink first, and then sleep. Ruining Thomas’ night wasn’t going to make me feel any better. Nothing was going to make me feel better.
The jingle of keys made me straighten. I lifted my head and found Merrick walking in my direction with his eyes down. His expression was solemn, and he looked deep in thought. My stomach sank, and I wanted to crawl under my truck so he wouldn’t see me. But it was too late. He was already lifting his head, and our eyes locked. Obvious surprise washed over his features, and he changed his trajectory and headed toward me.
When he reached me, he asked quietly, “Are you okay?”
“Allister is… dead.”
“Yes.” There was no surprise in his voice or expression. “I’m heading over there now at the request of Mayor Rodriguez.”
“Where’s Peter?” I asked numbly.
“Still back at the party. He’s going to take an Uber home.”
“I see.”
He frowned. “What are you doing here?”
