“We have it on very good authority that he’s a dangerous man, Miss Landon.”
“Okay,” I muttered indifferently. I knew exactly what was going on. They wanted Ben. They wanted to pump me for information. To sell him out. There was no way in hell any of that was going to happen.
Besides, I’d allowed myself to be ignorant about that side of him. So if they were seeking answers, they weren’t going to find any from me.
“He’s a murderer,” Detective Hardman stressed.
Oh, whatever.
“No, he’s not,” I snapped back, and I instantly regretted doing it. I didn’t want him to see me so affected by his accusations. I preferred keeping my feelings for Ben close to my chest.
He sighed and looked sympathetically at me. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. The man is linked to gangs all throughout the country, Miss Landon, and all across the world. He launders money for mafias – the real nasty kind you don’t come back unscathed from – and sometimes he plays a little dirty for a bigger slice of the pie. I’ll spare you those photos.”
I cut my emotions off and stared into space, ignoring his words. Ben wasn’t like that. He wasn’t a murderer! Bullshit. I slept next to that man almost every single day for the last couple months. He wasn’t crazy. He was everything good in this world.
I’d have known if I’d been with a crazy person. I really would, I stressed to myself.
Right?
“Now I’m here to help you,” he continued, taking on a more serious note. “The last thing I want to do is work against you.”
I sneered. “Work against me? You’ve got nothing on me, Detective.”
“When Ben Costigan goes down – and I promise you with every fibre of my being that he will one day – do you think you’ll come out of this untouched? Someone who has been there for him, perhaps collaborating with him –”
“Collaborating with him? That’s bullshit and you know it,” I interrupted with a cutting glare. “I’m sorry, Hardman, but you’re not getting shit out of me. You’ve stooped this low by resorting to me because you’re desperate, and desperate means you don’t have shit on Ben. And you don’t have shit on Ben because he’s nothing like you say he is. He’s a good man. So how about we stop wasting our time here. I’ve got a life to get back to –”
“I’m not finished, Miss Landon –”
“Yeah, well I am! And now if you’ll excuse me, tell the guys out there to let me go and give me back my licence and car keys. And if I find out anything has happened to my car –”
“Believe me, you’ll want to hear this.”
“Why?”
“Because this concerns your life.”
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. I looked up at the ceiling and started counting the tiles while I heard him open the file and shuffle through papers.
“I’m going to show you a photo, and I want you to tell me if you recognize this man,” he said.
With an exaggerated sigh, I peered at the photo he slid to me. It was of a dark haired man with dark brown eyes and a bit of stubble on his face. I raised a brow at Hardman.
“I don’t know him,” I told him. God, what a waste of time this was.
“Look a little harder, Miss Landon,” he pressed, tapping the photo in front of me, “and while you’re looking hard at him, I want you to think of the description you gave police the night you were attacked twelve months ago.”
My eyes shot up to his. “What does my attack have anything to do with Ben?”
He didn’t respond for a moment, allowing my mind to wrap itself around what he’d told me to do. I tried to remember the description I had given of the women that attacked me and the man I’d almost had sex with. I was really drunk that night, so my descriptions were murky at best. All I recalled of the man was that he had dark hair and dark eyes.
I glanced back down at the photo. Was this him? How long had the police known this?
“Why are you bringing this to me now?” I asked incredulously. “How long have you known about him?”
Hardman suddenly looked conflicted. “What I’m about to say will hurt, Miss Landon.”
“I don’t care. Just say it.” No, I did care actually. I was terrified, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what was about to come.
He tapped the photo once more. “That here is Joshua Malik and…” he paused. “One year ago he worked for Ben Costigan. He disappeared out of the country a week after you were attacked.”
Time was slowing down all around me. My breathing thinned as I continued to stare at the photo. There were no thoughts, just feelings – and the most prominent one was confusion.
“No,” I said with a shake of my head, “Ben doesn’t have men working for him, just his store employees –”
“Of course he has men working for him. Don’t be naïve, Miss Landon. You think he’d allow them around you? Has he ever allowed you to see into his work life at all?”
“No, but –”
“He has kept his work separate from you.”
I shook my head again. “So you’re telling me this man worked for Ben, and I’m still trying to understand what you’re getting at.”
Now he scoffed and leaned back into his chair. “Come on, darling, do I have to spell it out for you? Your attack was a set up.”
My heart lurched. “A set up for what? What would Ben gain out of it?”
He pointed at my face. “That, Claire.”
The walls around me were really starting to cave in. I continued to shake my head, denial overtaking every emotion inside of me.
“This is ridiculous and pathetic,” I retorted. “You really think I’m going to believe Ben told one of his men to seduce me in order to have me attacked by a bunch of women?”
Hardman opened the folder again and pulled out a different photo. “This here is Melinda Warren.”
The name shot through my system like an ice cold current. Melinda. The name Jamie had dropped the night I met him. She’s pretty. Prettier than Melinda.
Hardman placed the photo right over the man’s. I looked down at a smiling photo of a beautiful blonde with bright green eyes.
“She was beautiful, right?” he said. “Just like you. Sort of even looks like you.”