Paws off the Boss, Casey Griffin [ereader for textbooks TXT] 📗

“I’m a good businessman. I haven’t lost sight of what’s important.”

“You’ve completely lost your objectivity. What’s important is getting rid of those damn dogs.”

“And I’ve done just that, haven’t I?”

Hearing Aiden’s admission the second time around stung just as much as the first. Piper cringed at his words, which felt like a dagger sliding farther into her back, tearing muscle fibers and nerves as it dug deep enough to pierce her heart.

Inspector Samuels took notes while he listened to the playback on her phone. His face remained placid, any thoughts or feelings kept in check.

Piper gripped her Styrofoam cup full of lukewarm coffee, eyeballing the one-way mirror. She wondered if Aiden and Larry were being interrogated in a similar room or if the police were making them sit and stew until they heard Piper’s version of the story. The real one. She supposed they would try to deny it, create a big corporate cover-up.

When he’d heard enough, the inspector stopped the recording and grunted. “Recording that conversation was quick thinking. It will come in handy during prosecution.”

“Good,” Piper said with a conviction she didn’t really feel.

“You don’t mind if we keep this in evidence for a few days, do you?”

At the thought of losing her phone, her only connection to the outside world, she clutched it to her chest. “You can’t just keep a copy of the recording?”

“Considering your relationship with the suspect, we’ll also need to review your call history, text messages, any photos of the two of you, that sort of thing. You never know what can help build a case. He might have made slipups during previous discussions.”

Reluctantly, Piper handed it over, glad the most embarrassing thing on her phone was the ludicrous number of photos of Colin. She would have to call Lindsey at Sam’s office and let her know she wouldn’t be answering calls for any telegram gigs for a few days—not that she had the time, anyway, what with having to move and her life falling apart, and everything.

It suddenly occurred to her that she was back down to one job. She’d been relying on the dog-walking paychecks to pay next month’s bills and to save up a security deposit for a new place—since she obviously wouldn’t get hers back from Steve. She guessed that was out now.

Inspector Samuels stood up from the metal table, and Piper somehow found the strength to do the same. She gave her short red skirt a tug to cover her butt. Arriving at the police station in her Supergirl costume had raised a few eyebrows, but she was sure they’d seen stranger things. At least Addison had had a spare sweatshirt in the trunk of her car to lend her.

“Well, Miss Summers,” he said. “I’m glad that you’re all right. You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

“I’m just glad it’s all over.”

But it didn’t feel over. It felt like a giant, open, festering wound. One that wouldn’t close anytime soon.

The inspector walked her to the door and out into the bustling hallway.

“Do you think this was his plan all along?” she asked. “Right from the start?”

“There’s no way of knowing. It’s too soon in the investigation.” He gave her an apologetic look, like he wished he had something more comforting to say than that. So did she.

She’d been such a fool. Inspector Samuels’s words from the night of the fire came rushing back to her. Arsonists have a habit of coming back to see the results of their work. Aiden had been there during or after all the incidents at the rescue center and the near hit-and-run. He’d witnessed the aftermath each time, reveling in the destruction of his own creation.

When they arrived at the front stairs leading down to the lobby, she reached out and shook the inspector’s hand. “I’m glad you responded as quickly as you did today, or they might have gotten away. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said. “But I was already on my way to Aiden’s office when you called.”

Pausing at the top of the stairs, she spun to face him. “You were?”

“You weren’t the first nine-one-one call we received.”

“Who called first?”

“Aiden Caldwell.”

Piper nearly lost her footing on the stairs and tumbled to the bottom. She gripped the rail and tightened her jaw. “A PR move, no doubt.”

In his office, he’d talked about involving them, to head off any stories before they started. Maybe this was their suggestion, to make the first move. Maybe they’d thought it would make them seem less guilty, more cooperative.

The inspector’s face gave away nothing. “Perhaps.” But she wondered if that was a “perhaps, yes” or a “perhaps, no.”

Not that she cared. She knew enough. She wasn’t going to ponder everything that happened, everything Aiden had said and done over the last few weeks, over, and over, and over again. And that “perhaps” certainly wouldn’t keep her up half the night, wondering, remembering, daydreaming, and, most of all—most definitely not—hoping.

Nope. Not at all.

Piper trudged down the stairs and into the lobby. She was so lost in thought that she barely saw Addison and Zoe until they smothered her in hugs. Addison handed Colin to her. He attacked her neck and face with kisses, both excited and relieved, but probably not aware of why.

“Are you okay?” Addison asked.

She and Zoe were staring at Piper like she was an abused pup that had come into the center.

“Peachy,” Piper said in her most chipper telegram girl voice. “My boyfriend’s a megalomaniac who tried to have me killed. But no relationship is without its problems. You gotta work these things out, right?”

“I don’t think he’s like Richard Gere anymore. He’s like Cruella de Vil. But with dachshunds instead of Dalmatians.”

“At least you don’t need to worry about getting murdered anymore.” Zoe patted her back in a “Go get ’em, tiger” kind of way. “Or about the center, since, you know, everyone’s going to jail.”

“Oh, God. The center.” All the worries that she’d put aside over the last several hours came crashing back, making her knees buckle with the weight of them. What was she going to tell Marilyn when she got back the next day?

Piper noticed a guy in the waiting area listening in on their conversation. His ripped shirt, black eye, and handcuffs securing him to the bench told her he wasn’t having a great day. She wanted to know his story, if only to make herself feel better about hers. But despite the fact that he was in rough shape and waiting to be processed, she worried her story might still trump his. You know you got it bad when …

Putting that depressing thought aside, Piper turned back to her friends. “What’s going to happen? Will the center get repaired now that the man who owns it is … well, you know?”

“Evil?” Addison offered.

“There’s so much to do. And Marilyn gets back to town tomorrow. And then there’s my eviction. I have to be out in less than two days. Maybe I should reschedule my exam. I should call my mom too.” She groaned. “Oh yeah, they took my phone.”

The guy in handcuffs gave her a pitying look. Maybe her life really was that bad.

“Whoa, hold on there,” Zoe said. “One catastrophe at a time. The center will work itself out. There’s nothing we can do until we talk to Marilyn. That worry will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“And as for moving out,” Addison said, “we’ll be there to help you.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Zoe said. “You have enough to worry about with your licensing exam next week. Addy and I are here for you. In the morning, one of us will look after the place and fill in Marilyn, and the other will help you move all your stuff out and into my guest room.” She could almost see the mental to-do list