It’s good that he doesn’t know what the protocol is, because I sure as hell have no freaking clue. Hopefully protocol is whatever Sheriff McConnell hasn’t done. “Protocol states that you should preserve as much of the crime scene as possible, which in this case means asking the hotel employees to erect some sort of covering, maybe? To try and keep as much of the rainwater away from the crime scene?” I say it as if it’s obvious, as if I haven’t just pulled it out of my ass, and the look on Nathan’s face almost makes me burst out in hysterical laughter. Nathan is looking at me like—I don’t even know how to describe it—like he’s seeing the most amazing sunrise ever, his handsome face lighting up with awe.
“Well, I was just about to do that when you barged in,” Sheriff McConnell mutters.
I look pointedly at the glass of whiskey in front of him. “Really? It looks to me like you’re making yourself comfortable in my client’s office.”
He looks down at the glass and flushes, his face turning beet-shade. “This was his.”
“Mhmm. Well, it’s obvious to me that you have failed to follow any sort of protocol, so I don’t think you can legally charge my client with anything without further evidence.” What are these words coming out of my mouth? I’m pretty sure that any legit cop would’ve called my bluff a long time ago, but Sheriff McConnell is caught completely off-guard. His eyes are perfect circles, his mouth moving, but no words are coming out. “So ple—so, uncuff my client. Now,” I add, when I feel the need to say “please,” and to my disbelief, Sheriff McConnell actually stands up. I tense, half expecting him to—I don’t know—pounce on me and catch me by the scruff of my neck and arrest me.
He walks over to the other side of the table, his steps echoing in the large office. He approaches Nathan, who I can tell is trying his best not to laugh. He takes out a keychain, grabs Nathan’s hands, and—
Oh my god. I did it.
Sheriff McConnell lowers Nathan’s hands. They’re still cuffed.
Shit. I haven’t done it. He’s on to me. Is he? What’s going on?
Sheriff McConnell puffs out his barrel chest. “I don’t care what fancy law firm you’re from, but this here’s my territory. And I smell something bad. I don’t know what it is your client here’s done, but I know he’s done something, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“You can’t just keep him here because you think he’s done something. That’s not how the law works. You need to actually have found evidence and then charge him,” I snap. At least, that’s what it seems like on CSI.
“If you’ve got a problem with how I handle things, you can take it up with the mainland police.” He looks around the room dramatically, hands cupped behind his ears. “Oh, huh, I don’t hear the wail of sirens, do you? That’s because those pansy fancy-pants cops don’t dare to come here in the storm, so it looks like I’m in charge. And I say he stays here.”
“When they arrive, you are going to lose your license.” Or whatever the hell it is that cops have.
Sheriff McConnell shrugs, his meaty face squishing into a sly smile. “Yeah, they’ve been saying that for years, and yet here I am.”
The ground is crumbling underneath my feet. I grasp for anything I can think of. “I need to speak with my client. Alone. He still has that right.”
“He does indeed. Five minutes.” With that, Sheriff McConnell saunters out, hands in pockets. He’s practically whistling with joy.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, I sink onto the sofa and put my head in my hands. I was so close. I thought I had it.
“You did great, Meddy.”
I remain with my face buried in my hands. I can’t stand to look at the disappointment that must be on Nathan’s face.
“Meddy.” Nathan kneels in front of me, gently pulling my hands away from my face. “Hey,” he says, softly. “There you are.” There is so much in his expression. All of it, our history, every fight, every kiss, every laugh, written plain as day across his flawless face.
“I’m so sorry.” The words come out broken by sobs. “I made a mess.”
“No, you helped. He wouldn’t have let us speak in private if you hadn’t done all that—I mean, that was amazing, all those things you said to him,” he laughs. “You were on fire.”
“You don’t understand,” I moan. “I—I did it.” It’s time. The truth, all of it. I’m so tired of keeping things from him. I could lie to the entire world, but not to him. Not Nathan. “That dead body. I killed him.”