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Chapter Thirty-Three SCARLETT

Chapter Thirty-Three

S CARLETT

Wednesday, July 17, 2024

11:15 p.m.

I’d changed into sweats and a T-shirt and uncovered Della’s portrait. As I reached for a tube of red paint, someone rang my doorbell. My first thought was Luke. I wasn’t sure whether I was happy or worried.

I hurriedly covered the portrait again and crossed the central space. A fist pounded against my door. Luke did not strike me as the fist-pounding type. I glanced in the peephole. It was Detective Dawson. And my new best friend, Margo. Damn.

I hesitated. They were the last people I wanted to deal with now. I opened the doors. “Detectives.”

He’d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves past his elbows. Dark hair sprinkled over his forearms down to an old black wristwatch. Margo’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but otherwise she looked cool and calm.

“Scarlett, did we catch you at a bad time?” he asked.

He used my first name intentionally to mimic a nonexistent connection between us, I knew. “I was working. What do you need?”

“Can we come in? It’s hot as hell out here.”

I stepped aside. Tension rippled as they walked past. It felt like a deliberate invasion. They were sending a message that they were in charge. They wanted me off guard.

“You bailed Tiffany Patterson out of jail today,” Dawson said.

I glanced at Margo, who studied my place with keen interest. “I did. I gave her a meal here, let her nap while I washed her clothes, and then dropped her off at her car.”

“Where was the car?” Dawson asked.

“It was parked off of Shore Drive on Nineteenth Bay Street near a small brick house. What’s this about?”

“When did you become her emergency contact?” Margo asked.

“I didn’t realize I was until she called.”

“When did she reappear in your life?” Dawson asked.

“Six months ago. She was sleeping in the doorway across the street. Like my number, my address is on my website.”

“Why did she come looking for you?” Margo asked.

“I don’t think she had anyone else.”

“If I didn’t have anyone, I’m not sure I’d seek help from someone who almost sold me out,” Dawson said.

“It was a surprise to me,” I said.

“How many times has she shown up here?” he asked.

“Three or four times. I’ve tried to get her into a rehab program, but she doesn’t trust them. Where did you find her car?”

“Close to where you left her,” Dawson said. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

I stilled. What did he want? “I’m not in the mood for guessing games.”

“You’re going to have to play along a little longer,” Margo said.

“How did Tanner spot Tiffany? What was it about her that attracted him?” Dawson asked.

The past rolled closer to me, like storm-ripe waves. “He wanted the waitress who had hair as red as fire.”

“And when did he tell you he’d taken Sandra Taylor?” he asked.

“I never heard Sandra’s name until you brought it up several days ago.”

“But you knew there was another girl in the house.” He flipped through notes. “You called her the Other Girl when you were interviewed ten years ago and when we spoke.”

I glanced quickly at Margo, but her face remained stoic. “I’d heard Della mention there’d been another girl.”

“But Della was never found,” he pressed.

“No.”

“We’re playing games now, aren’t we, Scarlett? Looks like you’re going to make me work for it. Okay. I like games.”

He was square jawed and determined.

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

“You know we still have your DNA on file, right?” he said.

“I’m sure you do.”

“The medical examiner pulled hair fibers from a Jane Doe, and when it’s tested, are we going to get a match to yours?”

“DNA pulled from Sandra’s body must be old and degraded. Testing it will take time. Is this a fishing expedition, Detective?” I asked.

He studied me a long moment, tired eyes sharpening the longer they held my gaze. “Tiffany Patterson’s body was found in the trunk of her car.”

The news smacked into me. I glanced at the tall glass window, up toward the half-moon. An unsettled feeling rooted in my belly. This moment held echoes of the day Tanner’s van doors slammed behind me. I knew I was screwed but didn’t know how deep I would fall into hell.

“How?” I didn’t recognize my rusty voice.

“We’re still waiting on that. But I can promise you that DNA pulled from her body is fresh and easy to test.”

“I just told you she was here today. I hugged her before I left her.”

“You’re saying your DNA is on her body?” Margo asked.

I glanced at her. “Am I under arrest?”

“No,” Dawson said. “Not yet.”

“Until I am, leave the premises.”

“We’re going to be talking again soon, Scarlett,” Dawson said.

He opened the doors, and Margo followed, leaving me standing in the center of the warehouse. A warm breeze blew through the open front doors. I moved toward them, slammed them closed, and flipped all the locks.

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