From Ashes

“Well, I would understand if you were in shock, but you don’t seem to be that either. Like I said, it’s quite interesting.”

“Are you implying something, Detective Green?”

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “When was the last time you spoke to your mother or stepfather?”

Was he serious? Was I really being interrogated right now? Wait! Weren’t we supposed to be in a police station for something like that? Deciding that not cooperating would only make this worse, I thought about it for a few seconds. “I haven’t talked to Jeff since the morning I left for Texas; same with my mom. But she did text me on my birthday about a month later. So if you count the text, then I would say it’s been over a year and a half since I’ve had any type of communication with her, though I didn’t respond.”

“Bad relationship with your parents, Cassidy?” Green asked, looking at me with his steely gaze; Sanders had his notepad out again.

“Something like that.”

“Bad enough that you would want them killed?”

I looked directly into Detective Green’s pale blue eyes. God, those eyes seemed so familiar to me; my stomach fluttered again and I shook my head slowly. “I’m not a violent person, Detective Green, so much so that I can’t stand to even watch movies where there’s violence. So, no. I would never wish for anyone’s death.”

“Even not being close with your parents, Cassidy, it’s odd that you have no emotion regarding this entire situation.”

Taking a large breath, I was finally able to tear my gaze from his and worked at clearing my thoughts. “That house held memories that haunt my every thought; those people are what made those memories into nightmares. So no, Detective Green, I have no feelings regarding any of them being gone. I’m sorry if you think that means I somehow had something to do with this, but I don’t have one fond memory from California since the morning of my sixth birthday.”

Sanders stopped writing and shared an odd look with Green before Detective Green asked, “And your biological father? Would he have any reason to start this?”

My spine had straightened at the mention of my dad. “Detectives, do you believe this was arson?”

They shared another look and with a sigh Sanders admitted, “Investigators don’t believe it was, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be looking for someone who had a reason to want them dead.”

“Well, seeing as my dad died on the afternoon of my sixth birthday from a heart attack, I would say it wasn’t him either.”

When understanding hit both of them, Sanders attempted to hide a sheepish look as he scribbled more notes, and Green’s eyes softened; there went the stupid flutter in my stomach again.

“Honestly, no, I’m not upset that they’re both gone. But if you knew about my life, you wouldn’t blame me. And no, I had nothing to do with what happened this morning, and I doubt anyone did. Those people were drunks, and they were awful, but they didn’t have enemies, because for the last dozen years they’ve kept to themselves and their liquor. Which is why I’m not surprised the entire house went down so quickly. With the kind of stuff they kept around, it wouldn’t be much different from having bottles of gasoline just waiting to explode.” I stood and straightened myself to my full five feet, two inches . . . yeah, I’m sure I was real intimidating. “So if there’s anything else you need, detectives, I’ll leave my number with you so you can get ahold of me. Because of legal matters and funerals, I’ll be in California for a while. If you need me here longer, all you have to do is say the word.”

Not understanding, or not caring that I was politely asking them to leave, they didn’t move a muscle. “We can finish this here or at the precinct, Miss Jameson; sit down,” Sanders said quietly as he looked over some notes and crossed something out.

“What did you mean when you said, ‘if you knew about my life’?” Green asked.

My mouth shut as I looked back at Green’s light eyes; they still held that same intensity, but his face had completely transformed. He knew. I was so stupid; why had I kept talking?

“Cassi, go sit with my parents at the breakfast bar.”

I turned to see Tyler standing there staring at the detectives.

“I wasn’t—”

“Unless you’re about to arrest her, she’s done talking to you,” he said, cutting Green off, and my jaw dropped.

“Tyler!” I hissed.

“Cass, go. In. The. Kitchen.”

The detectives stood and Sanders shook my hand. Green grabbed my hand but didn’t shake it; he just held on and stepped close, saying, “That’s my card. You need anything, ever, you call me.” He looked at my eye for a long moment, then turned his attention to Tyler and glared at him. I could actually feel the anger coming off him in waves and it took me a moment to realize I had a freaking black eye.

Thinking about the shiner, how I must have looked like death after not sleeping at all last night and the emotional drain from the week with Isabella, I stifled a string of expletives that would have made a sailor proud and curled my hand into his, around the card in his palm. I wanted to explain that it wasn’t what it looked like, but then I realized that was probably what everyone said. I know it’s what I said to every person who wasn’t Tyler growing up.

That weird sense that I somehow knew this man came back when Green looked at me again. I nodded slightly and a soft grin crossed his face before he released my hand. I hurried past Tyler, who was now openly glaring at Green, and walked into the hall a few feet before tiptoeing back toward the den in time to hear Sanders ask Tyler if there was something he thought the detectives needed to know.

“I get it, you think she should be devastated that her childhood home and her parents are gone. It’s suspicious that she’s not, but she’s Cassi, so she’s not going to tell you what happened, and I know her not saying anything will only make her look even more suspicious and possibly get her in trouble later. Also, understand that I’m the only person Cassi has ever willingly told. I’ve told one other person and that person wasn’t either of my parents. So this isn’t something that she’s okay with being spread around; my parents don’t even know and as you can see she grew up a house away and we’re best friends.”

“Are you going to get to it, or are you going to make it sound even worse for her?” I recognized Sanders’s voice and was wondering why they went back to having him talk.

“Cassidy was beat by her mom and Jeff every day from when she was seven until I took her with me to Texas a month before she turned eighteen. And before you go judging me, because, swear to you, the guy I told hasn’t let it go for the two years since I told him, I wanted to tell someone, I wanted to get her away from them. But she said she’d run away before they put her in foster care, and I couldn’t take care of her if that happened.”

I pressed my fist to my mouth to quiet my heavy breathing. Damn it, Tyler! This isn’t something you just share. It happened to me, and I’d only told him; he’d told three people now!

“So like she said, and yes, I was listening to your conversation, she’s not sad to see them go, but swear to God that girl couldn’t kill a spider. She wasn’t lying about not being violent; she hates violence. I already know you saw her face, and before you go looking at me again like you think I did it, I’ll tell you what happened. We were at a party and a fight broke out between a bunch of guys; Cassi wasn’t even in the room when it started but must have heard it and was so upset by seeing it she tried to stop it and ended up getting hit instead.”

My breath came out ragged as he finished; why hadn’t he mentioned that it had been because of Gage? Tyler wanted us apart so much, you’d think he’d have just been dying to make it seem worse than it was and say I was in an abusive relationship.