Page 193 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter
Not dead.
Why is he even searching up here? I was going to try and find her. I haven’t had a chance to figure out where she went or— Or anything. And now this detective suddenly thinks she’s dead?
“Dad,” I choke out. “That’s not…”
“I’m so sorry, Sydney. I gave them your phone because they don’t have enough evidence to get a search warrant. I know you don’t have anything to do with where she went, but they think…”
“They think I did something?” I cover my mouth. “Or know something?” My voice comes out muffled. “You can’t be serious.”
Too soon, we’re turning into the precinct parking lot. I hop out fast, followed by Carter. He pulls me into a hug before I can bolt. Every part of me wants to sprint away and never come back.
Instead, I give all my fear to Carter. He absorbs it silently, his grip around my shoulders and back firm and unwavering.
“Here he is,” Dad says.
I slowly peel away from Carter.
A tall man strides across the lot toward us. He screams… expensive. That’s the only word that comes to mind.
“Caleb Asher,” he introduces himself to me. “You’re Sydney?”
“Yes.”
He nods once. “Okay. Let me do the talking at first, when we get in there. See what kind of prejudice we’re dealing with before you give them any information. I’ll let you know what questions to answer or not.”
I glance at Dad. “Information besides my phone, which they got last night.”
Caleb Asher’s lips quirk, but he seems to take it in stride because the next second, he’s nodding. “Was there anything incriminating on it?”
“No.”
“Any last messages from your mother? Did she ever threaten you?” He looks at me hard. “They’re going to ask you these questions. I’m going to advise honesty, here, Sydney. They record everything. If you double back on what you say, they’ll use it to make you seem guilty.”
I swallow. “Right. She hasn’t ever threatened me.”
“Okay.” He tips his head toward the doors. “Let’s get this over with. We can end the interview at any time. They haven’t arrested you, so this is just a courtesy.”
Lovely.
fifty-eight
sydney
Dad and Carter follow us in, but not all the way. They both take seats in the lobby while Mr. Asher and I are escorted through the bullpen—a collection of desks, police officers swarming around the place—and into a small room. There’s a camera in the top corner. A desk. Spots for four people to sit, if necessary.
I take a seat, and Mr. Asher takes the one beside me.
A few minutes later, a detective enters.
“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Windsor,” he says. “I’m Detective Lassiter. You’ve had an exciting few months, haven’t you?”
I glance at my lawyer.
Feels weird to have a lawyer at all…
“Exciting?” Mr. Asher frowns. “Poor choice of words, don’t you think, Detective?”
Lassiter frowns. “Mom goes missing, you have to change schools, students can’t seem to keep your name out of their mouths, now your apartment gets broken into and your friend hurt. Maybe not the good kind of exciting, sure.”