Page 27 of Provocation
It didn’t put me at ease then and it doesn’t now. This man isn’t any more my friend than those detectives who made me confess to Larson’s murder.
Where are the guys? I look at the door, willing it to open. But it doesn’t.
‘You said you wanted to ask me some questions,’ I prompt in an attempt to get this over with.
I suppose I won’t be able to just go back down to the cellar now that I’m clearly on this guy’s radar either.
‘What were you doing downstairs? Or, maybe a better question is,whowere you doing downstairs?’
He smirks like he just made a joke.
I don’t get it.
When I don’t react however it is that I’m supposed to, he frowns. ‘I heard they put you in some institution in London. What are you doing back?’
‘Getting married.’
It gives me a perverse sense of pleasure that I’m using the news of the marriage that’s being forced on me to thwart this cop’s agenda.
He looks surprised. ‘Your father is selling you off, huh?’
‘He’s not my father.’
‘No, that’s right.’
He puts more of his weight on the shelf, causing it to creak.
I wonder, if it buckles, will he go down with it?
‘Your father was Mark Evans, right? Died in a fire, what, twelve, thirteen years back?’
‘Something like that.’
‘They never did find out who did it. Couldn’t have been you, could it?’
He stares at me like he’s trying to will truths out of me.
Not sure what he’s getting at, I work to hide my visceral reaction. I think my fear will be like blood in the water to a shark.
‘I was at school.’ I blink up at him. ‘It was a lab accident.’
He snorts. ‘Is that what they told you? I mean I guess you were just a kid. Maybe you should know the truth, Marguerite.’
He leans in closer. ‘That fire in your dad’s lab was arson.’
‘That’s not possible,’ I say immediately, sure he’s lying. ‘Who would have wanted to kill my dad?’
Despite the bombshell Black has dropped, that has me reeling and my mind dredging up the awful memory of the day he died followed by the subsequent evening when my mom tearfully told me that my daddy wasn’t going to tuck me in like he did every night, the detective just shrugs at me like it’s no big deal.
‘Did you know that your stepbrother is a criminal?’
He watches me, gauging my reaction. But I’m still staring at him blankly, my mind occupied with thoughts of my father.
‘That was a question, Marguerite.’
‘No,’ I murmur, forcing out a laugh that I hope sounds natural. ‘He’s a Novelle. The family is worth millions. Why would he need to be a criminal?’
Black’s eyes narrow on me and he straightens, no longer attempting to be friendly.
