Read Online Get Dirty by Gretchen McNeil - Free Book Online

and Olivia okay? Sergeant Callahan said there was no one in the warehouse, but that only meant no one he found. Maybe Kitty and Olivia had been there for a meeting and managed to get out before the fire department arrived. Dammit, she needed more information. Was this meant as a warning or had Christopher tried to kill her friends?
    Bree eyed the policeman. Maybe she should tell him the truth? He was right: two people were dead and Margot was, apparently, in a coma. If the warehouse fire and the sabotaged seat belt were related, maybe it was better to tell the police before someone else got hurt.
    “You know,” Sergeant Callahan said, leaning closer to her as if he was about to share with her the third secret of Fátima, “if you tell me what you know, it’ll go better for you. We can cut you a deal, make sure you get off with just a slap on the wrist.You weren’t really to blame, were you, Bree? Someone else had to be involved. . . .”
    Bree stiffened. She was an idiot for thinking he was on their side. Sergeant Callahan wasn’t going to listen to her about Christopher. He was just looking for the quick fix, for Bree to snitch on her friends to save herself.
    Over my dead body.
    She shrugged and turned away. “I hope you find the guy.”
    “Darling!” Bree’s mom swept into the room before Sergeant Callahan could respond. She was wearing the same kimono Olaf had just sported. Bree cringed, wondering what, if anything, Olaf had on now. Her mom took Sergeant Callahan’s hands in hers and kissed him on both cheeks. “It’s been ages.”
    “You look wonderful, Diana.” And he meant it too. His eyes traced every line of her mom’s body.
    Barf.
    Her mom winked, then swirled into an armchair, patting the ottoman next to her for Sergeant Callahan. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
    “I wish I was here under more favorable circumstances,” he said, lowering himself to the ottoman like a courtier paying homage to the queen. “But it’s about your daughter.”
    “Bree?”
    Bree smacked her forehead. As if her mom had another daughter.
    “Er, yes,” Sergeant Callahan said.
    She leaned in to him. “Is she in a great deal of trouble?”
    “She might be.”
    Bree’s mom gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “Oh no! My poor sweet baby girl!” Her voice shook, her eyes welled up, and Bree had to turn away to keep from laughing out loud.
    “Diana, don’t cry,” Sergeant Callahan said, his voice tender. “I’m doing everything I can for her. But your daughter is being stubbornly uncooperative.”
    “Yes,” her mom said. “She can be like that.”
    “Is there anything you can do to convince her to talk? I can’t help her if she refuses to tell me anything.”
    Bree’s mom laid her hand on Sergeant Callahan’s knee, and dropped her voice. “Are you going to charge her with murder if she doesn’t cooperate?”
    “Well,” Sergeant Callahan said, clearing his throat. “We, uh, don’t actually have any evidence linking her to the crimes.”
    I knew it!
    “Wonderful!” Her mom popped out of her chair and clapped her hands. “Then you can remove the anklet and send her back to school.”
    Sergeant Callahan rose to his feet. “Er, actually, Diana—”
    “I’ll be back in France in time for the weekend.” Her mom dashed into the hallway. “Olaf? Pack the bags. And see if Johan can get us a first-class upgrade on a flight for tomorrow.”
    And with that, her mom disappeared upstairs.
    Sergeant Callahan sighed. “I guess that’s all for today.”
    Bree sprang from the chair and led the police officer to the front door. She couldn’t help but feel bad for him, yet another man swept up in the insanity that was Diana Deringer.
    Bree held the door open, then pulled up the leg of herpajamas. “So when can I get this thing off?” He admitted they had no reason to hold her, and now she was desperate to get out of the house.
    “The anklet?”
    No, my foot. “Um, yeah.”
    Sergeant Callahan