Redemption (The Salvation Society) - Laura Lee Page 0,2

have a mama no more?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well, my mama’s real nice. I’m sure she can be your mama, too. She makes the best peach cobbler in all of Georgia. Plus, if I get a boo-boo, she fixes me all up and gives me ice cream after. She’s a real good mama.”

Beckett kicks the water just like me. “I like peach cobbler.”

“It’s the yummiest.”

“Hey, Presley?”

“Huh?”

“Do you wanna be my friend? My friends call me Beck, so you can, too, if you wanna.”

“Okay, Beck.” I nod. “I’m gonna be your bestest friend in the whole wide world!”

Chapter Two

Presley

“Mrs. Winters? Is it okay if I come in?”

My eyes follow the sound of the deep voice, and I find a middle-aged man standing in the doorway to my room. I don’t know who this guy is, but he looks like some sort of official, which has me instantly on edge. He must sense my discomfort because he digs into his suit jacket’s breast pocket and withdraws a wallet.

He flips it open to reveal a badge, but he’s too far away for me to see any details. “My name is Derek Simmons. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your attack.”

I narrow my good eye in suspicion. “I already gave a statement to the police.”

Mr. Simmons nods to the plastic chair that sits against the wall. “May I? I promise I won’t take too much of your time.”

I give him a slight nod.

“Mrs. Winters—”

“Presley,” I insist.

The thought of being Mrs. Winters for a minute longer makes me sick. I can’t pretend anymore.

“Presley.” He clears his throat. “The statement you gave to the police doesn’t match the witnesses’ statements or the evidence we have. I’d like to know if you’d care to revise your account of the events that transpired early this morning.”

There are witnesses? I guess there’d have to be, but the last thing I remember before waking up in an ambulance is riding the elevator down to my building’s lobby.

“Am I being charged with something?”

I wouldn’t put it past Sebastian to use his connections to shift the blame to me somehow.

He shakes his head. “Not at all. But I would like to ensure the right person pays for their crimes, and I can’t do that without your help.”

I release a sigh. “Look, Mr. Simmons—”

“Derek,” he says with a smile that’s undoubtedly charmed many women out of their panties. “It’s only fair.”

“Derek.” I blow out a breath. “Like I told the first officer who came here, a man broke into my apartment and attacked me. No, I can’t give you more details about his appearance because all the lights were off since I was asleep at the time. Somehow, I managed to fight him off and get away. The last thing I remember is riding in the elevator toward the lobby floor. I have nothing else to say.”

“What do you typically wear to bed at night, Presley?”

I startle at the sudden change in topic.

“Pajamas, like most people. What does that have to do with anything?”

He gives me a knowing look. “According to the security footage, you were wearing slacks and a blouse when you were found, which, as you’ve stated, is not your normal bedtime attire. Are you telling me you took the time to change your clothing before leaving your apartment and fleeing the perpetrator?”

Crap. This guy is too observant for my liking. I glare at him again, but I don’t think it’s as effective as I’d like with only one eye.

“I fell asleep on the couch while I was waiting for my husband to return. I hadn’t changed into my pajamas yet.”

Derek frowns. “You live in a highly secure building. No one can access the penthouse without a keycard to your private elevator. The doorman confirmed your husband came home around midnight but left again approximately one hour later. Security footage shows you stumbling out of the elevator shortly after that, right before you collapsed onto the lobby floor. Look. I appreciate how delicate this situation is, considering your husband’s... influence. I truly don’t want to pressure you after everything you’ve been through, but I can’t prevent this from happening again if you don’t tell me the truth.”

Yeah, right. Like I’m going to trust anything this guy has to say. For all I know, Sebastian put him up to this.

I clench my jaw but forcibly relax when a shooting pain reminds me how many hits it took earlier. “I am telling the truth. I have nothing else to say.”

“Where was your husband going