The door opened and Detective Powell stepped inside with Justin’s lawyer and another man.
“Justin, this is the district attorney, Marshall Rymer,” Detective Powell said. Then he turned to Jordan. “If you’ll excuse us, Detective Turner will show you to the waiting room.”
****
Finally finished with her debriefing, Marley walked down the hall in search of Justin. She had to talk to him. Set things straight in her mind as to what actually happened tonight. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him walking toward her, but a second later she recognized Jordan. The rush of disappointment left her knees weak.
“Where’s Justin?”
His gaze zeroed in on her and the look of pure hatred in his eyes left her speechless. “You just had to call the damn cops, didn’t you?”
“Jordan…”
“Justin doesn’t want to see you.”
She stared at him. “He said that?”
Jordan’s gaze flicked away, then returned as he leaned toward her. “Our family is ruined. Do you really think he wants anything to do with you after what you’ve done?”
Marley went rigid. Wait just a minute. Forget about the fact that she could get half-drunk off his breath, but what she’d done? “None of this is my fault.”
“You and that brother of yours and the damn cops—”
“Don’t you dare lay this on us! Your parents killed my mother, Jordan. They were going to kill me.” Her voice shook and she had to draw a deep breath to keep from exploding. “Your father put Nate in the hospital—his own son—your half-brother.”
“He’s not my brother.”
“Yes he is, whether you like it or not. Justin—”
“Shut up,” Jordan snarled. “You and your brother can go to hell for all I care. And as for Justin, leave him alone. He’ll have enough to deal with without having to look at you and constantly be reminded of all this shit. He’d be forced to be nice to you while the guilt kills him inside.”
Marley sucked in a breath. She’d seen what guilt did to Justin. Jordan was right.
“You’ve done more than enough,” Jordan said. “Now go away and leave us the hell alone.”
Marley stared after him before turning to walk numbly out the door. That’s when all hell broke loose. Flashbulbs blinded her. A crush of bodies surrounded her. Microphones were shoved in her face, and questions were shouted without anyone waiting for answers.
“Ms. Wade—can you tell us what happened?”
“Were you hurt, Ms. Wade?”
“Do you know who was killed?”
“Can you confirm there were shots fired?”
“Did the Blake twins know the victim?”
“What is your relationship to the accused?”
Marley held up a hand to shield the paralyzing camera flashes. How did they even know who she was? A hand grasped her elbow as Detective Turner’s voice boomed over the noise. “Ms. Wade has no comment at this time.”
He guided her down the steps to where one of the officers from earlier had parked her truck. A few of the more tenacious reporters followed them, but they held back when the detective raised a staying hand.
“Would you rather I have an officer take you home?” he asked Marley.
She eyed the rabid mob of news crews still taking pictures, but shook her head. “I’ll be fine. How do they know so much already?”
Detective Turner sighed. “There’s a police scanner in every newsroom. But we need you to keep quiet. If too much of this leaks out, it’ll be bad for the case.”