Page 12 of The Billionaire and His Forever

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, then. I’m glad you’re not him.” I hold out my hand and we shake. “No offense, but…why isn’t Miss Bowen here?”

He laughs. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you? I like that. Bowen’s out of the country, consulting on a high-profile case that we’re not at liberty to discuss. I’ll be handling things temporarily, just until she returns. And if it makes you feel any better, I got my J.D. at UNC and I’ve been at the firm for four years. I’m not as inexperienced as my title implies.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, I just…I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ll be fine. This ain’t my first rodeo,” he says, still looking amused.

Even so. Why didn’t the firm send Ellis, then, or at least a more senior attorney? And how can Bowen possibly still be out of town with all of this going on? I was under the impression that she and Graham were old friends, and that as a lawyer she was both damn expensive and damn good. Who the hell is more important than Graham? The Queen of England? An Arab prince?

Farris checks his watch. “Why don’t we do a little prep before we go in? We have some time. Does that work?”

“Actually, that’d be great,” I say. “I’m so nervous.”

He motions me over to a bench, and once we’re seated he starts talking me through what to expect.

“I know it seems intimidating, but they’re just going to want to corroborate information they already have, try to get a sense of the players and all the moving parts, what happened when, fill in some blanks, that kind of thing.”

I nod. “Okay. I can do that.”

“It’s possible they’ll try to get you to implicate Mr. Ratliff in some way, maybe by poking holes in your story or getting you worked up, seeing if they can trick you into saying something that hurts his case. But we’re not going to let them push you around. That’s why I’m here.” Gone is the smile from moments earlier; now he’s all business. “So if at any point you get uncomfortable, just defer to me. Okay?”

“Got it,” I say. “And thank you.”

Minutes later, after Farris has given me a few more pointers, we head toward the station’s front doors, but as we go up the steps I grab his sleeve.

“Just so you know—Graham’s innocent,” I tell him, desperation washing over me. I need him to understand this more than I need air in my lungs. “I mean, she OD’d. You can’t force someone to overdose. He shouldn’t be in there at all. This whole thing is—”

“I understand, Miss Montgomery. And we’ll be sure your testimony conveys that. It’s going to be okay,” Farris reassures me for what seems like the millionth time.

But I’m still a total emotional wreck as we make our way inside.

Sitting in a tiny,freezing cold room on a plastic folding chair isn’t as much of a thrill ride as it looks on television. The second the detectives sit across from me, that same wave of fear comes tripping down my back again. I take a drink of the crappy coffee they provided to steady myself and look over at Farris, who nods reassuringly. I can do this.

As the two detectives get their notes and their voice recorder sorted, I study their faces. The older man looks tired but kindly; he’s the one who Farris and I met at the front desk—the same detective I spoke to on the phone last night. Detective Krohl. The woman beside him is younger but somehow harder looking, like she’s seen too much on the job; her name is Detective Hernandez. They haven’t been cruel or pushy, but suddenly my heart is in my throat.

I have to get Graham out of this. I might be his last hope of getting out of police custody.

Krohl goes through the formalities of stating the date and time and location into the recorder before having me state my name and age. Then things start rolling for real.

“Let’s talk about your relationship to the Ratliffs,” he says, leaning back with a hand clamped around his cup of coffee. “How long you’ve known them, what your job is with the family, your duties, everything that you do day to day.”

“You want me to…talk about my job?” I ask, blinking back the surprise. What does that have to do with anything?

Next to me, Farris leans forward. “What do the details of her employment have to do with this investigation?”

“It’s standard protocol,” Hernandez answers. “We’re just trying to understand her relationship to the Ratliffs, establish how she fits into their lives.”

I look over at Farris for guidance.

“Keep it simple. Just the basics,” is all he says.

“Well?” Hernandez prods.

“Um. I guess I’ve known the Ratliff family for about three years now? Well, wait, longer than that. See, my dad got his MBA at Harvard when Graham—Mr. Ratliff, I mean—was there for undergrad. They were best friends all during college. I was just a toddler then, but I’ve always knownofthe Ratliffs, like from my dad’s stories and stuff. But. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“You’re doing fine. Go on,” Detective Krohl says, nodding.

I can feel beads of sweat rolling down my back already, but I continue. “Anyway. The Ratliffs were always traveling the world, I guess, so they weren’t really part of my family’s circle of friends growing up. Mr. Ratliff was…more of a character that my dad talked about. But then, about three years ago, the Ratliffs moved back to New York from abroad, and my family spent the summer with them in the Hudson Valley, and so that’s when I got to know them all a bit better. And I met their daughter, who I got along with really well. She was five at the time, she’s eight now. And so, when Mr. Ratliff needed a nanny for her this summer, my dad suggested me to Mr. Ratliff for the job. And I took it. So that’s…how I became the nanny.”

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