Page 29 of Roark
There was only a moment’s hesitation on her part. “That is also true.”
Gibbons sat forward, dropping his elbows onto his knees. “How do you two know each other?”
“We’re sleeping together,” Tamika snapped. “Isn’t that what you’re already thinking?”
That flash of spunk was another thing for Roark to admire about her.
Gibbons didn’t even blink as he glared at Roark. “Your wife’s in London. Did you know that? I had a nice chat with her before I was called to come here.”
“My ex-wife is able to go where she pleases,” Roark replied. He really didn’t like this guy at all.
“But you come here to this big, fancy country house of yours and meet up with your new girlfriend just a couple of weeks after your mother is killed in a fire at her house. And bam, your girlfriend’s mother is almost killed in a fire at her house as well. That’s some coincidence.” Gibbons was nodding, his keen eyes going from Roark to Tamika, then settling on Roark once more.
“I came here to relax after a very trying time.” That was as much of an explanation as Roark planned to give.
“And I came to visit my mother,” Tamika said.
“But there was a fire and your mother’s now in the hospital, is that correct?” Gibbons wasn’t finished with his questions.
Tamika sat back and placed her hands in her lap. “That is correct.”
Gibbons shrugged. “You two really don’t see the coincidence here? I find that hard to believe, because you’re so smart, aren’t you, Roark? You just made a big move from one business to another, added your mother to that stock which, according to her will, all reverts back to you and your siblings. There’s also a hefty life insurance policy to go along with the rest of her estate. That again falls to you as her personal representative.”
“And you, Ms. Rayder,” Pennington picked up as if the two had planned this little tag-team scenario. “Your mother also has a sizable life insurance policy, and the cottage is worth a decent amount. Nothing nearly as significant to gain as Mr. Donovan here, but considering you lost your job two weeks ago, and the lease on the apartment where you were staying—which was actually in the name of a Colin Hopkins—was up earlier this month, you’re hurting for cash and a place to live right now. Not to mention you’re experienced in this area. If anybody would know how to set a fire, it would be you.”
“First, a ten-year-old could start a fire and end up burning down a house by mistake. It’s not rocket science. Second, I’m not hurting for anything,” Tamika replied. “And I have a BA in criminal justice, along with my certification as a fire investigator. I’d say I’m pretty employable, so definitely not desperate in any way.”
“I’d say you’re both lying,” Gibbons announced. “After your break-up with Mr. Hopkins and his refusal to continue paying to keep a roof over your head, you were indeed desperate to find a place to live and someone else to take care of you. You somehow heard of Maxine Donovan’s death and came here posthaste to shack up with Mr. Money Bags. He told you how to kill your mother for her insurance. Only, you messed up yesterday because you didn’t anticipate that housekeeper coming home and saving your mother. Now, you’ve got to figure out what to do that won’t make you look even guiltier.”
The detective’s reach to find motive had so many holes in it, Roark wanted to laugh at the effort. Unfortunately, rage at the man’s audacity and overall dislike for both detectives at the moment had Roark standing instead. “That’s preposterous, and you know it. And I’m done entertaining both of you. I want you out of my house. Now!”
Pennington had the good sense to look shocked as Roark raised his voice, while Gibbons continued giving Roark a smug sneer. Enough so that Roark took a step toward the couch, where the detectives had remained seated after his directive.
Pennington stood next, smoothing his tie again. “We just have a few more questions. Ms. Rayder, maybe you’d prefer to come down to the station house with me?”
“Perhaps you should contact her solicitor to request another meeting,” Roark said to Pennington and prayed Tamika didn’t say anything to contradict him.
She didn’t. In fact, she came to stand beside him and echoed his declaration. “I won’t be talking to you again without an attorney.”
Now Gibbons stood, his flinty eyes narrowed on Roark. “I know who your solicitor is, Donovan. Just like I know I’m going to bring your ass down for this. Don’t think for one minute that your money’s going to get you out of a murder charge.”
“Don’t think for one minute that I’m going to be intimidated by you. Now, Geoff will show you out.” Roark wasn’t intimidated, he was pissed the hell off.
As if on command, Geoff appeared in the doorway.
“Here’s my card if you wish to contact me.” Pennington pulled a card from his inside jacket pocket and extended it to Tamika.
She accepted it with a cordial nod. “I’ll give it to my attorney.”
Chapter 10
Six hours, a hot bath and a nap later, and Tamika was still irritated as hell.
How dare those detectives think she planned to kill her mother. Hadn’t she sat at the hospital for hours after the fire last night, waiting with her heart in knots to see if her mother was going to survive? Hell, hadn’t she tried to run into the burning cottage to get her mother the moment she’d arrived on the scene? How could any of those actions be construed as someone who’d intentionally set fire to the place with the intention of killing the one blood relative she had left on this earth?
Her fingers were still shaking with rage as she pushed her arms through the plum-colored dress and let the soft material slide over her body. This was a dress she owned, one of the few things that didn’t smell like smoke, because even though most of her clothes had still been in her suitcase and duffel bag, in a room all the way down the hall from her mother’s, the heavy clouds of smoke had still managed to permeate them. Clicking the link Lily had provided and shopping on the CKDavis Design website had provided a little calm to the stormy afternoon she’d had. And just as Lily had promised, the boxes of clothes Tamika had selected had been delivered within an hour of her clicking “place order.” She suspected that had something to do with the fact that Roark was paying for the clothes and that she wasn’t some random customer. While the thought of Roark buying her clothes had bothered her earlier this morning, after enduring the unfounded speculation that she and Roark had somehow conspired together to commit murder by the detectives, she’d decided to shop until her heart was content and hadn’t felt one ounce of guilt when it was done.
After those detectives had left, Tamika had been a roller coaster of emotions. Roark had wanted to talk to her, but she hadn’t been in the mood. They’d asked too many stupid questions, had made predictable assumptions and were dead wrong on all accounts. But no amount of pacing in this room, plopping down into the chair and switching on the TV she never actually watched, or gritting her teeth in anger, was going to stop the ball that’d already started running in their mind. Just like Roark and his siblings, Tamika was now a suspect in an arson case. How ironic was that?
