Read Online The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) by Alexa Wilder - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alexa Wilder
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make sense of simple statements.
“No, I mean—they’re not all of my shifts, obviously. I’ve worked a lot more than it says there. But each of these have been during one of my shifts.” She was snapping, she knew that, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t control anything about this, including her own reactions.
“I see.”
“Well I don’t. Am I being accused of something here?”
The detective pulled a pen out of his pocket this time, but he didn’t use it. Just tapped it against his notepad and said, “Your DNA was found at the scene of the crime.”
At her entirely dumbfounded reaction, Dr. Stevens leaned forward in his seat and added, ever so helpfully, “We found your DNA in the location of the missing drugs.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she spluttered. “My DNA is all over that cabinet.”
“Specifically, Ms. Emerson,” Dr. Stevens said in his slick, greasy voice, “your hair was found directly after the drugs went missing again on Friday last week.”
Was he actually trying to tell her that she was in the frame for a crime because they’d found her hair ? Her panic gave way to utter disbelief, and for a brief moment, relief washed over her like a warm blanket.
“Sir. I’m sorry, but if that’s all the evidence you have—”
And then Dr. Stevens said, “It’s not,” and the relief turned to a blanket of ice.
“Then what else is there?”
Dr. Stevens stared at her, his eyes glittering, but said nothing.
The detective coughed gently and stepped towards her, pen and pad outstretched.
“Ma’am, if I could just take your contact information—”
“My hair could’ve gotten in that cabinet at any time,” Maggie said, her mind tumbling into a whirlwind of renewed panic, desperately trying to find the logic in all of this and the one thing that would prove, beyond all doubt, that she had nothing to do with it. “What about the other nurses with access to that cabinet? I bet you’d find their DNA, too.”
“As I said, ma’am,” the detective said, while Dr. Stevens leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, smirk firmly in place, looking for all the world like the cat that got the cream. “I need your contact information for further inquiries.”
“Am I a suspect?” she asked, voice rising, refusing to take the pad from him. Backing down now would mean defeat, and she wasn’t ready to accept that anyone, anywhere, could think she was a thief. Even Dr. Stevens. Disliking rich people did not give him the right ruin her goddamn life. “I deserve to know what other evidence you have!”
Dr. Stevens gave a careless sniff and straightened his tie. “Let’s just say you might consider getting yourself a lawyer.”
A lawyer. What evidence did they have that made Dr. Stevens so sure that she’d need a legal defender? Oh God , she thought as the detective once again held the pad out to her, oh God, oh God. Please.
“Phone number and address, ma’am, thank you.”
Numbly, she took the pad and wrote down her details, hardly aware of her own actions. When she gave the pad back to him, she turned to face Dr. Stevens’ hatefully smug face head on. “This is ridiculous.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll be in touch,” the detective said, then tipped a nod at Dr. Stevens. “Doctor.”
He waited for someone to answer him, but when no one did, he pulled a weary expression and left, leaving Maggie alone with Dr. Stevens, who immediately wiggled the mouse of his computer and stared at the screen like she wasn’t even there.
“Sir—”
“Close the door on your way out.”
“ Sir —”
“If you don’t mind, Ms. Emerson,” he said, peering over at her, “I have work to do. And so should you. Unless you’d rather not…?”
He’d love that, wouldn’t he? For her to imply that she didn’t care about her job. Add more fuel to his fire. To his vendetta .
But it couldn’t just be about his distaste of rich people. It wasn’t just a personal vendetta. Because
“No, I mean—they’re not all of my shifts, obviously. I’ve worked a lot more than it says there. But each of these have been during one of my shifts.” She was snapping, she knew that, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t control anything about this, including her own reactions.
“I see.”
“Well I don’t. Am I being accused of something here?”
The detective pulled a pen out of his pocket this time, but he didn’t use it. Just tapped it against his notepad and said, “Your DNA was found at the scene of the crime.”
At her entirely dumbfounded reaction, Dr. Stevens leaned forward in his seat and added, ever so helpfully, “We found your DNA in the location of the missing drugs.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she spluttered. “My DNA is all over that cabinet.”
“Specifically, Ms. Emerson,” Dr. Stevens said in his slick, greasy voice, “your hair was found directly after the drugs went missing again on Friday last week.”
Was he actually trying to tell her that she was in the frame for a crime because they’d found her hair ? Her panic gave way to utter disbelief, and for a brief moment, relief washed over her like a warm blanket.
“Sir. I’m sorry, but if that’s all the evidence you have—”
And then Dr. Stevens said, “It’s not,” and the relief turned to a blanket of ice.
“Then what else is there?”
Dr. Stevens stared at her, his eyes glittering, but said nothing.
The detective coughed gently and stepped towards her, pen and pad outstretched.
“Ma’am, if I could just take your contact information—”
“My hair could’ve gotten in that cabinet at any time,” Maggie said, her mind tumbling into a whirlwind of renewed panic, desperately trying to find the logic in all of this and the one thing that would prove, beyond all doubt, that she had nothing to do with it. “What about the other nurses with access to that cabinet? I bet you’d find their DNA, too.”
“As I said, ma’am,” the detective said, while Dr. Stevens leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, smirk firmly in place, looking for all the world like the cat that got the cream. “I need your contact information for further inquiries.”
“Am I a suspect?” she asked, voice rising, refusing to take the pad from him. Backing down now would mean defeat, and she wasn’t ready to accept that anyone, anywhere, could think she was a thief. Even Dr. Stevens. Disliking rich people did not give him the right ruin her goddamn life. “I deserve to know what other evidence you have!”
Dr. Stevens gave a careless sniff and straightened his tie. “Let’s just say you might consider getting yourself a lawyer.”
A lawyer. What evidence did they have that made Dr. Stevens so sure that she’d need a legal defender? Oh God , she thought as the detective once again held the pad out to her, oh God, oh God. Please.
“Phone number and address, ma’am, thank you.”
Numbly, she took the pad and wrote down her details, hardly aware of her own actions. When she gave the pad back to him, she turned to face Dr. Stevens’ hatefully smug face head on. “This is ridiculous.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll be in touch,” the detective said, then tipped a nod at Dr. Stevens. “Doctor.”
He waited for someone to answer him, but when no one did, he pulled a weary expression and left, leaving Maggie alone with Dr. Stevens, who immediately wiggled the mouse of his computer and stared at the screen like she wasn’t even there.
“Sir—”
“Close the door on your way out.”
“ Sir —”
“If you don’t mind, Ms. Emerson,” he said, peering over at her, “I have work to do. And so should you. Unless you’d rather not…?”
He’d love that, wouldn’t he? For her to imply that she didn’t care about her job. Add more fuel to his fire. To his vendetta .
But it couldn’t just be about his distaste of rich people. It wasn’t just a personal vendetta. Because
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