Page 64 of Wasted
He chuckled. “Deal.” Here he’d thought Victoria couldn’t get any better, but her new smart-aleck side just might make him forget to move slow in rekindling their relationship.
He distracted himself from tempting thoughts about kissing her by grabbing their coats and escorting her to her car. Though he maybe considered that option a few more times as he followed her on his bike to the Briscoe mansion.
The gate stood open when they arrived. The first sign something was off.
Victoria slowly led the way up the driveway in her Honda as Cillian drove behind her.
Four cars parked at odd angles in the paved area near the front of the house. Obvious from the models and attached scanners what they were. Unmarked police cars.
Cillian pulled his bike to a stop next to Victoria on the driver’s side as she parked a short distance from the nearest cop car.
She got out, glancing at the cars and the house, then swung back to Cillian. “What do you think is going on?”
Cillian got off his bike as he scanned the house. “Maybe checking for evidence? They never did search it or process it properly when he was killed.”
“We should leave.” She turned to her car and reached for the door handle.
“This is your house. You have every right?—”
“Ms. Weston!” The call jerked both their heads toward the mansion’s front door. McCully and a couple of officers, or detectives not in uniform, poured out of the house like cockroaches.
Great.
“So nice of you to stop by.” McCully’s tone was oddly happy. With somebody like him, happy wasn’t good.
Cillian stepped closer to Victoria as McCully trotted around her car to approach her.
The detective grinned—a more annoying expression than his usual scowl. “I guess I can tell the officer at your house he can forget it.”
“There’s an officer at my house?” Victoria’s tone was strong and calm, despite the dread she must be feeling.
“He’s been waiting for you there most of the morning.”
“Why is that, Detective?” Still no sign of nerves as she held her tall, unbothered posture.
That was Cillian’s girl. At least the new version of her. No hesitation or submissiveness, even if she did still go along with jerks like McCully too often in the end.
“We have a warrant to search your vehicle.”
There it was. The reason for McCully’s cheshire grin and the gleam in his eyes.
He spread his arms wide toward her Honda. “And here you’ve brought it right to us. Thanks for saving us time and resources. You are saving tax payers’ dollars today, Ms. Weston.”
Her lips pressed together in a thin line as if she was holding back what Cillian wanted to say to the guy.
But she handed over her keys to McCully when he asked for them and watched silently, her spine rigid and arms folded across her coat, as they searched her car.
This had to be one of McCully’s stupider ideas. Like Victoria would leave something incriminating in her car if she had murdered Briscoe. She was way too smart for that.
“McCully.” A guy wearing a black coat waved McCully to the back of Victoria’s Honda, where he held the trunk open.
Cillian’s gut clenched. They couldn’t have found something.
“Ms. Weston.” McCully beckoned Victoria with his fingers.
She headed toward the trunk, Cillian sticking to her side.
They rounded the rear bumper.
