gruff, implying he knew more than he did. He really had
no idea what they had been talking about except it involved one of the missing
couple. “Didn’t you know obstructing a police investigation is a criminal
offence?”
Desley’s
eyebrows arched. “I’ve only just found out myself. Besides, you can’t seriously
think Trent has anything to do with what’s happened.”
“It doesn’t
matter what I think—”
“Hallelujah!”
Trent dropped his feet off the coffee table and sat up, flicking the air with
his hand. “Now be a good boy and run along home. Des and I have things to talk
about.”
Fergus snorted. No more Mr Nice Guy , he thought. “I bet.” Turning to Desley, he said,
“Ask him where he was the night of the fire.”
“She doesn't
need to. Des knows I was right here,” Trent said, patting the leather beside
him, “sleeping on this very couch.”
Desley’s face
blanched. She tried to conceal her surprise, but not before Fergus saw it. He
felt her tension, sensed the internal debate raging behind those dark-lashed
hazel eyes. Loyalty or truth?
“Like you were
earlier today.” Fergus couldn’t help himself. He had to make her see her ex for
what he really was. “Right, Trent?”
Trent rolled
his eyes.
“What’s going
on?” Desley asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What haven’t you told
me?”
Trent propped
his feet back up on the coffee table, and crossed his arms. “As I said, get rid
of him and we’ll talk.”
“No, Trent.”
She shoved his feet onto the floor, the dismay on his face gratifying Fergus no
end. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Fergus. I’ve had enough
of your games.”
Silence.
“I’m waiting.”
“All right, all
right. I told the cops I spent the night here. No harm done.”
“You expect me
to lie to the police?”
Trent scraped
his fingers through his tousled blond locks. “You have to understand, I had to
do something to get them off my back. They weren’t going to let up until they
either had a confession or an alibi.”
“And what about
the truth? Did that even cross your mind?” Desley tapped her forehead with such
ferocity Fergus feared she would leave a dent. “You’ve implicated me in
something I want no part in,” she continued. “How dare you.”
Fergus watched,
bemused as Desley continued to berate her insolent git of an ex-husband. He
half-expected claws to spring from the end of her fingertips. He didn’t feel
one iota of sympathy for the man. It had obviously been a long time coming.
“A man is dead,
Laura and Ryan are missing and all you’re worried about is copping a bit of
flak from the police. If you don’t tell them about Selena’s fling or whatever
it was with Ryan, I will.”
“What? And give
them more ammunition?”
Desley threw
her hands up in the air. “Tell him, Fergus…”
He started to
call him mate and stopped himself. Trent gave him a baleful stare. Regardless
of what he said, Fergus knew it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to
Trent. The man clearly resented what he perceived as nothing more than meddling
interference from Fergus. That and old-fashioned jealousy, of course.
“If you’ve done
nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about,” Fergus said, giving him the
old dutiful line. “All false alibis and concealing information do is make you
look more suspicious in the eyes of the law. Come clean while you can.” He
might as well have been speaking to a mannequin for all the good it did. “If
Desley means anything to you at all,” he continued, “you wouldn’t do this to
her.”
Trent downed
what was left of his whisky and stood up. “Are you quite finished?”
“I have but you
haven’t. DI Grant Buchanan is on his way over now. You can stay and talk to him
like the responsible person you are or you could walk away, leaving Desley to
fight your battles. Your choice.”
Trent grimaced
at Fergus, his lips parting as if he were about to say
no idea what they had been talking about except it involved one of the missing
couple. “Didn’t you know obstructing a police investigation is a criminal
offence?”
Desley’s
eyebrows arched. “I’ve only just found out myself. Besides, you can’t seriously
think Trent has anything to do with what’s happened.”
“It doesn’t
matter what I think—”
“Hallelujah!”
Trent dropped his feet off the coffee table and sat up, flicking the air with
his hand. “Now be a good boy and run along home. Des and I have things to talk
about.”
Fergus snorted. No more Mr Nice Guy , he thought. “I bet.” Turning to Desley, he said,
“Ask him where he was the night of the fire.”
“She doesn't
need to. Des knows I was right here,” Trent said, patting the leather beside
him, “sleeping on this very couch.”
Desley’s face
blanched. She tried to conceal her surprise, but not before Fergus saw it. He
felt her tension, sensed the internal debate raging behind those dark-lashed
hazel eyes. Loyalty or truth?
“Like you were
earlier today.” Fergus couldn’t help himself. He had to make her see her ex for
what he really was. “Right, Trent?”
Trent rolled
his eyes.
“What’s going
on?” Desley asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What haven’t you told
me?”
Trent propped
his feet back up on the coffee table, and crossed his arms. “As I said, get rid
of him and we’ll talk.”
“No, Trent.”
She shoved his feet onto the floor, the dismay on his face gratifying Fergus no
end. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Fergus. I’ve had enough
of your games.”
Silence.
“I’m waiting.”
“All right, all
right. I told the cops I spent the night here. No harm done.”
“You expect me
to lie to the police?”
Trent scraped
his fingers through his tousled blond locks. “You have to understand, I had to
do something to get them off my back. They weren’t going to let up until they
either had a confession or an alibi.”
“And what about
the truth? Did that even cross your mind?” Desley tapped her forehead with such
ferocity Fergus feared she would leave a dent. “You’ve implicated me in
something I want no part in,” she continued. “How dare you.”
Fergus watched,
bemused as Desley continued to berate her insolent git of an ex-husband. He
half-expected claws to spring from the end of her fingertips. He didn’t feel
one iota of sympathy for the man. It had obviously been a long time coming.
“A man is dead,
Laura and Ryan are missing and all you’re worried about is copping a bit of
flak from the police. If you don’t tell them about Selena’s fling or whatever
it was with Ryan, I will.”
“What? And give
them more ammunition?”
Desley threw
her hands up in the air. “Tell him, Fergus…”
He started to
call him mate and stopped himself. Trent gave him a baleful stare. Regardless
of what he said, Fergus knew it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to
Trent. The man clearly resented what he perceived as nothing more than meddling
interference from Fergus. That and old-fashioned jealousy, of course.
“If you’ve done
nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about,” Fergus said, giving him the
old dutiful line. “All false alibis and concealing information do is make you
look more suspicious in the eyes of the law. Come clean while you can.” He
might as well have been speaking to a mannequin for all the good it did. “If
Desley means anything to you at all,” he continued, “you wouldn’t do this to
her.”
Trent downed
what was left of his whisky and stood up. “Are you quite finished?”
“I have but you
haven’t. DI Grant Buchanan is on his way over now. You can stay and talk to him
like the responsible person you are or you could walk away, leaving Desley to
fight your battles. Your choice.”
Trent grimaced
at Fergus, his lips parting as if he were about to say
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