Anne ignored this and set a hand on her hip. “We’ve come to question you regarding the murder of Jarvis Pigg.”
“Well, I think your first suspect ought to be his mum, for giving him a name like that.” William leaned on the railing and smiled at her innocently.
Jeffers chuckled. Anne frowned and cast a look around the book explosion that was the first floor. The entrance to the staircase had been obscured by said books. William pretended not to have noticed and continued to look down on her.
The last time he’d seen her, they’d been sitting across from a visitor’s table. Her long hair had been recently cut short to spite him, and she had been looking wearier than he’d ever seen her, through tough cases or marathon lovemaking. Even then, he’d longed to touch her, to reach across the table and claim her mouth in a passionate kiss. The guard had barked even when he’d moved to touch her hand, and Anne had looked glad for it. She could have simply disappeared, refused his calls, and let him intuit that she was out of his life. Anne wasn’t the type though. She would always be the one to come, face-to-face, to break your heart and tell you that you wouldn’t be seeing her again.
It made sense. She had her career. It wasn’t as though having a boyfriend in prison was a desired trait in a potential detective. And she had the little sis to think of. She was also too damned stubborn to accept William’s offers to ease her burden. She could’ve given up the life entirely and lived in leisure. He could’ve put Michelle through school without the hint of a dent to his finances. Granted, he’d laced irony into his words every time he had suggested she leave the force. She wouldn’t seriously consider it, but it would’ve made William’s life easier if the woman he loved weren’t always investigating his friends and business partners.
And now, he was seeing her again. Stubborn and beautiful as ever.
“We have evidence that puts you at the scene,” Anne said dourly.
William raised his brow. That was interesting. Since he’d never heard of this fool before. “Alright. I’ll bite. When am I meant to have been out ‘murdering’? And who is Jarvis Pigg, other than a very unfortunate fellow in life and death?”
Anne put her hands on her hips. William smirked. He could see down her blouse from here and had no intention of tipping her off to the layout of his overflowing shop. If he wasn’t mistaken, her breasts, which had been a mere handful the last time he’d had the pleasure of laying his hands on them, were plumper and rounder than before.
“You can answer our questions, or you can head on down to the precinct,” her partner said in a voice meant to be threatening.
“It would help if you asked one,” William shot down to the man. He was more the image William would conjure of a cop. Shabby. Pudgy. Self-important.
“Come down,” Anne ordered.
William rolled his eyes and headed for the stairs. “As you wish, my dear.”
He watched her as he descended. Her hair, longer now but still not as long as when they’d been together, was pinned primly behind her head, and chestnut curls fell loosely on the sides. He hadn’t been wrong. Her body, still petite and strong, had gained a softness. Her curves had blossomed; she looked ripe and juicy and ready to be plucked.
“Stop it,” Anne snapped.
William ran a hand over the front of his form-fitting dark blue shirt. Her eyes followed his hand and widened. He wondered if she’d noticed the changes in him. Three years in prison? Not exactly a vacation.
“What are your questions?”
Anne held up a picture of a sledgehammer of a man. “Our vic. Recognize him?”
William took it and looked closely. It was a mugshot. Apparently, Pigg hadn’t been the type to stay on the right side of the law either.
“No. Don’t reckon I’ve ever seen ‘im before. Though, he’s not very distinctive, is he? Looks like any of a dozen slabs of muscle a dealer might employ,” William offered.
“And you know a big-time dealer working around here?” Jeffers pressed.
William pursed his lips. “I’ve tried to keep my fluffy hindquarters clean since my release. Too easy to get caught up in someone else’s mess, you understand.”
Anne clicked her tongue in annoyance. From her expression, she didn’t believe for a second that he’d actually been innocent. That was fair. He hadn’t been. But he was out regardless, and he wasn’t looking to find himself behind bars or on the other side of a Glock.
“Sorry. Don’t know ‘im. Don’t know who he might’ve pissed off.”
“Alright.” Anne held up another picture. “Recognize this?”