Hanged (Savage Men 5)

“Your neighbor alerted us to the black Volvo outside your home. Is it yours?”

“No,” I say, shrugging. “I have no idea who it belongs to.”

That is a lie, but they don’t have to know. And if they do, it doesn’t even matter anymore.

Daisy and Hanson are already long gone by now. They drove off in my truck about fifteen minutes ago, and I have no idea which direction they went. And the police probably let them drive right past them because they were looking for a black car, not a green truck.

“Ma’am, we’d like to search the premise, please,” the man says.

It’s not actually a question, more like a statement, and I get it. They don’t trust me. They have every reason not to.

The man they’re looking for was … is still my husband.

And I know they were expecting him to come here.

They just didn’t expect him to take weeks to finally make that decision.

And they probably, no definitely, didn’t expect me to let him run off with our daughter.

But they don’t know me, and I didn’t know the full story to my husband’s killing.

Now that I do, I don’t intend to ever doubt him again. He might be a murderer, but because of him, Daisy is still breathing. How could I ever stay mad? Without him, I wouldn’t have even gotten the time that I now had with her.

As the police officers search the house and realize he’s not here, they ask me the same questions again, still clutching their guns. “Ma’am, I’m going to ask you again. Did Hanson Locklear show up at your property? Is he here?”

“No,” I say. It isn’t a lie. He isn’t here … anymore.

The police officer narrows his eyes at me. “His car is right outside your gate.”

“Is it?” I raise a brow, pretending to be surprised as fuck.

He glances at the shotgun on the ground, and says, “So you pulled that out for nothing then?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I heard some noise last night. Went to check, but it was nothing.”

“Nothing? Hmm …” he murmurs, looking down at his boots while muffling a laugh. “Interesting.”

One of the policemen walks out of my house, holding up a piece of clothing that belongs to Hanson. His boxer shorts, more specifically. Guess he jumped into his pants in a hurry and left them here.

“Well, would you look at that? Didi’s Garments from town,” the police officer says as he looks at the label inside the boxer shorts. “Oddly specific and they look brand new. Maybe we should ask the owner who bought these.”

The other police officer keeps his eyes fixated on me. “Ma’am, I didn’t spot your truck outside. Where did you park it?”

“Maybe the barn. Maybe the village. I don’t remember. I usually walk home,” I lie, licking my lips. I don’t even care anymore.

“Right.” He puts his hands against his side.

“Are we done here?” I ask with a straight face.

I know they can see right through my bluff, but I don’t mind. I’m not telling them a damn thing. I’d rather go down lying than lose my dignity.

“Yes, ma’am.” The police officer rummages in his pocket and takes out a set of shackles. “I think you know as well as I do that you’re hiding something. You’re coming to the station with us. Now, are you going to come without making a fuss, or do we have to restrain you?”

I hold up my hands, and say, “That won’t be necessary.”

I knew this was coming. Even if they couldn’t identify who bought the boxer shorts, it’d be pretty easy to find out who has my truck, considering Hanson left his own car right in front of my house. One plus one equals two.

I don’t look back as they escort me to the police car. I’m sure I’ll be charged with aiding a criminal, so I probably won’t be back here again. At least not for a long while.

I won’t miss this house. Hell, I won’t even miss my freedom.

The only things I already miss are them … my little girl and my man.

All I can say is that I’m grateful. Grateful for the time we got together, grateful for the man who will now spend the rest of his time with her, and grateful that our love transcends even the worst of circumstances.

I will go down with my head held high before I will ever let them find my husband and our little girl.

They deserve to be together, and he deserves his freedom. He’s suffered enough.

And if that means I’ll have to serve time … so be it.

I’d willingly hang for both of them.

* * *

Hanson

From a distance, I watch as they drive into the parking lot of the police station. She’s in there. I could probably grab her and run, but knowing her, she wouldn’t even come with me.