“How did you even know about her affiliation with Dyllan?” I ask, suddenly curious how that stone was turned if no one really knew.
His lips thin, and then he pulls a newspaper article from his coat to hand to us. I take it, and then I quickly skim over it.
“That son of a bitch!” Ash squeals. “That’s why he was at Melanie's party. It was never about you. It was about going through me to get to you.”
I shake my head as I read the Chicago journalist’s bullshit.
Ashiara Branderwood isn’t merely a gold digger, as the tabloids state, she’s also a home wrecker and possibly a murderer. Dyllan Mathews and his wife, Heidi Mathews, were perfectly happy until the seductress walked into his life.
After breaking up their home, she broke up with him. Then, when questioned by the police during a supposed stalker incident where threats were allegedly made against her life, she left out his name from the pool of suspects, though they requested the names of all the men she had been romantically involved with. This was before the police found the body of the man who had been missing for several weeks after his untimely death. So why didn’t she mention him?
I believe it’s because she already knew he was dead. Your opinion counts. Vote black widow or gold digger at my blog.
“He essentially called her a murdering gold-digger in order to boost his ratings. Unbelievable,” I huff, and then I pull out my phone. “If you feel like pursuing some sniveling reporter’s bullshit line of questioning, then I’ll call my lawyer to speak with you from here on out, and I’ll see to it someone else gets put on this case. Money buys you influence, Detective. I’ve got a lot of both, and I refuse to let Ash be drug through the mud instead of protected from a psychopath.”
Her tears waver, but she refuses to let them fall as her hand tightens on mine.
“I’m just trying to get answers, Mr. Masters. His phone was found on his body, and a week before he went missing, he dialed some of Ms. Branderwood’s old numbers numerous times. I’ve requested the phone records to see if there was ever a conversation, but it proves he did try to contact her. I’m giving her the opportunity to tell us what she knows.”
“I know I never spoke to him,” she growls, her anger winning over her tears. “My number has changed more times than I can count. I had to shut down my website for my business and use referrals only. I had to change my email, work number, client meeting locations, and eventually, I had nothing left the same because I’m not allegedly being stalked, I am being stalked.
“I’ve been shot, stabbed, and forced to live like even more of a hermit than I already was. You’re welcome to pull my phone records. You don’t even need a search warrant. I hope you’ll pass this case off to someone who will stop letting me get hurt once you realize what a major pain in the ass you are.”
I want to laugh or applaud. I’m not sure which. She stands up, thoroughly pissed, and then storms out of the room.
“You heard her. Now you can go, Detective. My lawyer will be in touch from now on.”
I stand up, and Troy walks over to escort the tightlipped detective out.
“I know you think this is an attack, but Dyllan Mathews had a family, too. I’m just trying to give them closure. That includes tracking down all leads and asking tough questions, whether I like it or not.”
“You’re the type who wants to make it better after the fact, Detective. Considering I love Ash, I want someone on this case who wants to prevent the disaster. Good luck on your witch hunt. Until then, don’t come to my home without a warrant.”
He shakes his head, knowing damn well he’ll have to walk through red tape from now on just to talk to me.
I finally pull my phone to my ear, and I ask, “Did you hear all that?”
“Yeah. I’m already working on it. I’ll have a new detective on your case in no time, and the reporter will have a gag order placed, as well as a slander suit. I read the article online as soon as you sent me the date. He’ll be lucky to have any work when I’m done with him.”
“I knew I paid you a lot of money for something,” I murmur smugly to Frank, my very overpaid lawyer.
“Because I’m the best,” he jokes, and then I hang up to see Ash staring at me.
“You’re talking to a lawyer? Do you think they’ll come after me for this?”
She looks terrified, and I do the only thing I want to do - hold her. Her body trembles against mine, and I shake my head.
“They can try, but they won’t get past Frank. You didn’t do anything, which means no evidence. They’re going to need more than conspiracy theories from some random reporter to come after my girl.”
***
Ashiara
I’ve never felt as safe with anyone as I do him.
Everyone walks out, after having obviously eavesdropped, and they start chattering out their disbelief.
The only thing I’m focused on now is champagne and Tag. Trip is in wonderful hands, so I’m going to drink away the crazy and enjoy the man who loves me.