Page 65 of Ice Cold Christmas
“Bull. You blasted everything you said and did on social media. Privacy wasn’t big for you.”
Yes, she’d seen the old posts. Those posts had helped her to piece together parts of her past.
“He was sleeping with you a year ago but keeping the relationship secret.”
She could feel Amaya staring at her.
Victor, too.
“He keeps lots of secrets.” Angus nodded. “You know, in all my time with him, Victor never told me that you two were hooking up. No matter how many times I pushed, he wouldn’t confess. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he didn’t want to be an even bigger suspect. She wasn’t sure what reaction Angus expected, but Melody wasn’t going to do or say anything to incriminate Victor. “I trust him.”
“Fuck.” Angus slumped back against his chair. “That’s the exact same shit you told me a year ago.”
Why would she have needed to say those words?
“When I came to you then…told you I was looking at a very old case…when I asked for your help and I informed you that I suspected Victor Alexander just might be one very dangerous man. A potential killer.”
Her lips parted.
“You stared me in the eyes and said that you trusted him. That I had to be mistaken.” Angus’s fingers tapped across the files once more. “And then you vanished. Disappeared seemingly without a trace. Damn convenient timing, don’t you think?”
Her head swung toward Victor.
“We are done.” Amaya clapped her hands and rose to her feet. “Such a great chat. Detective Clinton, if you have any additional questions for Melody or for Victor, please direct them my way. And by that, I mean, don’t you dare consider talking to either one of them without me present. That shit will not fly. Now, we are leaving. I’m trudging back through the snow, and we will not be returning to this lovely interrogation room any time soon.” A brisk nod. “Good night.”
Because it was night. As they’d been climbing up the slippery steps to the station, the sky had already been darkening. Hours had passed since their arrival.
Amaya’s fingers slid over Melody’s shoulder once again. “Come on. We are leaving.”
The detective had just accused Victor of being a murderer, and she was supposed to walk out of the door?
Why hadn’t Victor said anything? Defended himself? Would it kill the man to tell the cop that he hadn’t murdered anyone? “This is bullshit.”
“Uh, Melody.” A loud throat clearing from Amaya. “We are not talking with the detective any longer, remember?” She pulled on her arm. No more soft taps. “Let’s go.”
Melody rose to her feet. She tossed a glare toward Victor. “Why aren’t you telling the detective that he’s wrong?”
“Because he can’t,” Angus replied.
Her glare jumped to him. “Then fine, I can do it.” Her hands slapped down on the table. The coffee cup jumped. Sloshed. “You are wrong. Victor has not killed anyone. Victor is not the bad guy.”
“You have no memory. How can you know that? How can you be so certain of him?” His lips twisted. “You don’t even remember me, do you? You have no memory whatsoever of our previous interaction.”
A scream of fury wanted to erupt, but she held it back. How was everyone else in the room so calm? So what if she didn’t remember the damn detective? “Victor looked for me. He never stopped. He didn’t hurt me. He’s a good man.”
“You truly don’t know him.” Now that was pity in Angus’s eyes. “Or maybe…maybe you still love him. Despite everything, and that emotion is making you blind.”
“You haven’t given me one shred of evidence to think that Victor has done something wrong. Know what? I get why he didn’t tell you about our relationship. You are way too eager to lock people up—and by people, I mean him and me. Too bad, though, because you’re going to have to forget that plan. You aren’t going to do anything to hurt him. Victor is a good person.” How many times would she need to say that? And why was she wasting her breath? “I thought talking to you would help me, but it’s just pissing me off. Let’s go.” An announcement to, well, Victor and Amaya.
“I was trying to get you to go,” Amaya mumbled back. “You’re the one who wanted to break out into an emotional monologue with the cop, despite your lawyer’s advice to stay quiet.”
Victor was staying quiet enough for them both.
But he strode for the door. Opened it. Waited for her.
She marched toward him. “Why the hell didn’t you tell him to fuck off? It’s so not?—”
