Read Online Unlock the Truth by Robena Grant - Free Book Online Page A

full statement at the station. We’ll need audio and video tapes.”
    Zeke swallowed hard and nodded.
    “The young woman had your telephone number in the pocket of her jacket,” Quimby said. “Like the first victim.”
    “Susie did?” Zeke looked puzzled. “Really?”
    Dena gasped, somewhere behind him, but Zeke didn’t look around. He took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment. It was the same as in Carli’s case. He eased the breath out. Had someone tried to frame him? He felt sick to his stomach then it hit him. What the hell? This didn’t sound right. His eyes narrowed, opened, narrowed again.
    “That’s odd,” he said, after a few seconds. “Susie knew this number. It’s been the same one since we were in high school, and—”
    “Save it for the interview,” Quimby said.
    Dena moved away, and he felt the loss of her strength. She sat on the corner of the credenza, dropped her head forward and stared at her shoes. She looked pale and he hoped she wouldn’t faint and end up on the rug. When she looked up again, her eyes were damp with tears. Zeke felt his chest tighten, and he wondered if she still believed in his innocence. For some strange reason that had become extremely important to him.
    “Will you drive in, or can we offer you a ride?” Detective Quimby asked, a few moments later.
    Zeke frowned. He made it sound like they were going to a bar or a football game. About to comment, he recalled Dena’s advice.
    “I’ll come in with you guys,” he said, and stood. Might as well get it over and done with, it would just be his recorded statement, that’s all. Not a big deal. He had no idea why he’d been acting like such a pansy.
    “Stanton,” Quimby said. “Give your buddy here a lift. I’ll see you back at the station.” He strode out of the room.
    “I’ll help in any way I can,” Zeke said, and turned toward Stanton. He felt stronger now, more in control. “Let’s go.”
    Thoughts crashed through his memory. Visions of being a kid and home sick from school, his father dead, his mother gone to take care of business, only Irma to care for him. He’d always been alone, and lonely. His mother had raised him well, but once he’d hit sixteen, well, emotionally, she’d shut him out. As a young man, he’d learned not to need anyone. Dena had said he didn’t have to do this alone. He looked over at her. She smiled that special smile. It would be fine. He glanced at Stanton who idly swung the cuffs.
    “No cuffs. You have no right,” Dena said, and stepped toward the deputy, her expression fierce. “You can’t cuff him.”
    Zeke would have laughed if he could. Dena’s fists were clenched and she seemed about to deck Stanton. She was a spitfire, best not to get on her bad side, ever.
    “That’s detainment,” Dena said, and glared at Stanton. “You can’t do that, he’s going in willingly.”
    Impressed with her understanding of police procedure, Zeke shot her a quick, appreciative glance. Maybe her expertise came from handling the problems of her celebrity clients.
    Stanton ignored her.
    Zeke felt him move in close from behind, push him forward, and slyly knee him in the back of the leg. At least he’d put the cuffs away. His old football buddy’s beer belly pressed hard against his lower back, and his coffee-tainted breath fell hot on his neck.
    “Where will they take you?” Rocky asked as he re-entered the room.
    “Indio,” Zeke said.
    Stanton nudged him again. Zeke knew the man enjoyed the moment; he’d splatter his heroic role all over the valley by midnight. God, he hated this. He hated it worse than anything he’d ever dealt with in his life. He felt defenseless and all of the issues that surrounded his prior statement, also taken in Indio, flooded his mind. They hadn’t held him, but the sense of desolation, the loneliness, and then afterward, the quizzical stares, the whispers, those newspaper headlines—
    “Sweetheart,” Dena said, and sidled up to him.