Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
She peered up from her note-taking when her partner cleared his throat. “Oh, um...” She flipped back a few pages in the notebook. “We spoke with…” She scanned her notes, searching for the name. “Randy at the scene. He stated he was the one to pull you from the fire, Mr. Brady.”
“Yes.” Liam nodded. His face, now clean of soot and ash, paled. “And please call me Liam. I was being stupid. I thought I could maybe save some things from being destroyed, so I tried to crawl through the fire to the studio’s front desk.”
“Jesus, Luxe,” Tate muttered. What the hell had he been thinking? They’d been so close to a different ending for this nightmare, and for what? A few dancers’ contracts? Once Liam healed, Tate planned to keep him in bed for an entire week, showing him what he’d have missed out on if he’d died in that fire.
Liam leaned over and kissed him right in front of the officers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I—”
“I get it. It just messes with my head to think of you in there.” Screw the officers watching. He gave Liam a brief kiss before D’Amico cleared his throat again.
Tate shot him a lethal glare. Liam nearly died. That fucker could wait a minute for his damn questions to be answered.
“Sorry.” Liam faced them again with pink cheeks. “Uh, it was so dark, I lost my way. I heard someone shouting for me, but by then, I was dizzy and coughing so much I couldn’t really crawl around anymore.”
Tate’s teeth would be ground to nubs if this continued much longer.
“Randy crashed into me. That’s how he found me. Pure dumb luck. He dragged me to safety.”
Carmichael nodded as she jotted down everything Liam said.
“Randy told us he believes a Donald Hayes, who goes by Ducky, is the responsible party. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Tate snorted.
“Mr. Sutton, is there something you’d like to contribute?” D’Amico asked. He arched a gray eyebrow.
“Yeah, there is.” Tate leaned forward. “Randy doesn’t believe Ducky is responsible… he fucking knows it. Ducky is a homophobic asshole who beat the spit outta Liam ten years ago and smeared shit all over his studio windows this morning or yesterday morning. Fuck, I don’t even know what day it is.” He took a breath. “Ducky was pissed his little stunt didn’t run us outta town, so he upped his game.”
“To arson and attempted murder?” Skepticism bled through D’Amico’s question. “Seems like a big leap.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Tate muttered, shaking his head. Damn cops weren’t going to do a thing to help.
“I’m just saying there is a big difference between petty vandalism and aggravated arson.”
“Petty vandalism,” Tate mumbled with a roll of his eyes. “Call it what you want. It doesn’t change the facts.”
“Could it have been an accident?” D’Amico asked. “You smoke, don’t you?” he asked Tate.
Tate stiffened. What the hell was this cop’s problem? “What? You think I had a smoke and tossed it in a trash bin full of papers?”
D’Amico shrugged. “You’d be surprised how often people are careless like that.”
“Unfucking believable.” He flopped back in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
Frowning, Liam asked, “Are you saying you don’t believe the fire was set intentionally? Is there evidence of it being an accident?”
When D’Amico didn’t answer right away, his partner nudged him. “John,” she whispered. He still didn’t respond, so she stepped forward. “We did, in fact, find evidence of arson, Mr. Brady. It seems someone threw a Molotov cocktail through your front window.”
Tate leaped to his feet, fists clenched. “So what the hell is with all the crap about cigarettes and trash cans?”
Carmichael turned to her partner. “John, why don’t you check back in with Randy since we have a few more questions for him? He’s in the waiting room.”
That was news to Tate. He’d assumed Randy would take off as soon as possible.
“I’ll finish up in here.”
D’Amico’s dislike of that suggestion was written all over his scowling face, but he nodded and said, “I’ll do that,” before he left without another word.
“Sorry,” Carmichael said. “He’s… old-fashioned.”
Liam snorted. “If that’s code for homophobic, I’ll agree with you.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I’m working on him, but he’s a bit of a dinosaur, so it’s taking a while. My girlfriend thinks I should nail him in the balls with a good swift kick, but I’m saving that as a last resort.” Her smile finally had Tate’s shoulders unwinding.
“You’re gay?” Tate asked.
Liam elbowed him. “You can’t just ask that.”
Chuckling, Carmichael waved away the concern. “It’s fine. I’m pansexual, actually, but I’ve been with my girlfriend for two years. Trust me when I say I know how challenging it can be living around here. I promise you I will personally oversee every aspect of this investigation and make sure it is handled by the book. I know Ducky and have no doubt he’s the type of scumbag who’d do something like this.”