I stayed at Cayden’s as everything I owned was reduced to ash. All that remains is literally the clothes on my back. The materialistic stuff doesn’t bother me. The memories that I made in the house sadden me the most.
I don’t know where to go now because although I know the truth, I can’t expect Cayden to just open his door, and honestly, I don’t want him to. I need space to digest everything, and moving in so quickly isn’t wise.
Going back to my mom’s is definitely not an option, so I’m in limbo with what my next steps are. However, my immediate steps are clear—it’s time to go down to the police station.
“We will go shopping after we give our statements,” Cayden says, interrupting my thoughts.
Lacey has been kind enough to lend me some of her clothes, but the fact that I need an entire new wardrobe has me nodding slowly.
Cayden mistakes my restlessness for nerves. “Don’t worry about the detective. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He rubs over my leg kindly. I’m worried he will see straight through me.
Yes, technically I did nothing wrong, but if he begins to probe, I’m terrified I’ll buckle under the pressure and tell him the truth. That might not be such a bad thing, but having to divulge it all…I gulp. How do I detail something I don’t even know how to explain?
Cayden pulls the truck into a parking space and turns off the engine. He turns to face me while I take three calming breaths. “Are you okay?”
“Honestly, no,” I reply, rubbing the perspiration from my brow. “I think he knows something is amiss.”
“He’s a cop. It’s his job to be suspicious. It’ll be okay. I promise.” His assurance makes me feel a little better, but I can’t shake the feeling that this is the start of things to come.
We exit the truck and walk toward the station, hand in hand. When we enter, I squeeze his hand. Everyone turns their heads to look at us, or maybe it’s my imagination. But whatever it is, my stomach turns, and I think I’m going to be sick.
Just as Cayden is about to announce our arrival to the officer at the front desk, Detective Parks rounds the corner and pauses mid-step when he sees us. “Just the two people I wanted to see. Where is Ms. Coachman?”
“Lacey is at home with my daughter. She will be in later on. I didn’t want to bring Ellie into the station,” Cayden explains coolly, while I shrink into him, wishing I had his confidence.
Detective Parks nods. “Let’s get started then. Ms. Lane”—he focuses his laser stare on me—“I’ll take your statement. And, Mr. Coachman, Officer Murphy will take yours.” He gestures with his head that we’re to follow him.
Cayden leads the way, never letting me go, but when Detective Parks goes left, I know I’m on my own. Cayden locks eyes with me, his expression saying so much. He lets my hand go, nodding once.
An officer indicates Cayden’s to follow him, leaving us with no other choice but to part.
I don’t look back and follow Detective Parks, who stands by a doorway. I presume this is where the interrogation is to take place. I brush past him, instantly shivering because something about this man leaves my stomach in knots.
“Take a seat,” he says, pointing at a steel chair. Nothing about this room is inviting, but I suppose that’s the whole point. Don’t lie, cheat, or steal. Otherwise, you’ll end up in a place like this.
“What’s the matter, Ms. Lane? You look nervous,” Detective Parks says, closing the door and sealing my fate.
I quickly take a seat and sit on my hands to stop from wringing them together. “I’m not nervous,” I state, hoping he can’t see through my lie. “I just have a thousand things to do today.”
“I won’t take up much of your time.” He’s unmoved by my current situation of being homeless and not wearing any of my own clothes. “Where were you from roughly six to nine o’clock last night?” He sits across from me, producing a small recorder from his pocket.
Shit just got real.
Internally counting to five, I shrug calmly. “I was on a date with Cayden. He picked me up around seven or seven thirty. We took a drive to my old vacation home.”
“The one on Maple Avenue?” he asks while I cock my head to the side. He’s done his homework.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“That seems like an odd place to go on a date.” He leans back in his chair, stroking his mustache as he waits for me to reply.
I clear my throat as it feels like I’ve just swallowed lead. “I have amnesia,” I explain, but by Detective Parks’s impassive expression, it seems he already knew that. “Cayden wanted to take me there as it was where we first met as kids. He was hoping it would spark a memory.”
“And did it?”
I shake my head.
“Then what happened?”
“Then we got into his truck and were on the way to get dinner.”
“What were you going to eat?”
“Chinese,” I reply quickly. I know what he’s doing. He wants me to slip up, but this is a truth I can reveal.
“What time were you made aware of the fire?”
“I don’t know. The time was the last thing on my mind.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my tone, but he’s pissing me off. He’s acting like I was the one who started the fire. “Lacey called us, and we went straight home.”
He nods, appearing to process everything I just divulged. “Have you noticed anything strange over the past few weeks?”
“Strange? You’re going to have to be a little more specific.” I sit unwavering, leveling him with a blank stare.
“Someone lingering around your home or work?” he explains, his eyes never leaving mine.
“No,” I lie, my heart thrashing about in my chest.
He purses his lips, watching for any signs that I’m lying, but I remain perfectly still. “The fire was started deliberately.”
“How do you know that?”