Like Glass We Break (Glass #2) (3 page)

“Mr. Reed, you cannot go in there. We need you to come to the station.”

“I need to get home.”

“Mr. Reed, your girlfriend has been murdered. You need to come in and answer some questions,” the officer insists.

“Fine.” Scott is led into the back of the car.

The ride to the station is long. This is the first time Scott has ever been in a police vehicle and it’s far more uncomfortable than he thought it would be. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like this when Cora’s real killer is out there somewhere.

“Are we there yet?” Scott asks impatiently. “I have to work tomorrow.”

“Almost,” the driver replies. He isn’t the same officer as the one who asked Scott the questions earlier.

“Why are you bringing me there?”

“It’s procedure, since you were the one who made the call.”

“I guess that makes sense.” The car is warm and Scott is sweating. He’s sure his light blue shirt is dark with sweat marks by now. He wishes he could just open the window and get some air but the officer doesn’t seem friendly enough to ask.

“Okay. We’re here. I’m going to walk you in to the front desk and another officer is going to be asking you some questions, Mr. Reed.”

“Okay. When can I go home?”

“I have no idea. That’s not up to me,” the officer replies. He exits the car and opens the back door to release Scott, who is still wearing handcuffs. His grasp on Scott’s arm is tight as he leads him into the busy building. Though it’s late, there are several people behind the desk who seem busy doing paperwork. One woman stands.

“Officer, bring Mr. Reed to Room C, please,” she instructs.

The officer walks Scott down a short hallway and unlocks a door. The room is almost empty, other than a table and two chairs. It’s like something you’d see in a movie—a good old interrogation room.

“Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Reed.”

Before Scott can reply, the officer is gone and the door is locked. Scott is alone in the room. The walls are plain white. The furniture is black. Comfortable? How exactly could one make themselves comfortable in a place like this? Scott takes a seat, but within seconds, he’s back up and pacing the room. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn into almost an hour.

The door opens. An older man, with years marked across his face, walks in.

“When did you last speak with Cora James?”

“Aren’t you supposed to introduce yourself?” Scott asks.

“I’m Detective Hughes. When did you last speak with Cora James?” he repeats, visibly annoyed.

“A few days ago. We went out to a restaurant, we had a few drinks, and we went back to her place. She invited me in. We had sex. What do you want? Do you want the details? Why are you asking me this?”

“And that was the last time? You’ve had no contact since then?”

“No. She was busy. I texted her a couple times but she didn’t get a chance to reply,” Scott explains.

“We checked her phone records, Mr. Reed. You texted her two hundred and eight times in the last four days, and she didn’t reply to any of them. Doesn’t that seem a bit excessive? You said
a couple times.
I’d say that’s far more than
a couple.
I’d say that’s a problem,” the detective says sternly. He studies Scott’s reactions closely without taking his eyes off of him.

“You don’t know anything about our relationship,” Scott says defensively. He begins to squirm and sweats even more profusely than before. Beads are dripping down his forehead and landing on the front of his shirt. He looks as though he feels ill.

“No, I don’t know anything about your relationship, so please—enlighten me. You told an officer that you had been dating for a couple months but according to her phone records, you had never sent her a text message prior to last week. Can you tell me why this is? Why you were dating someone for a couple months, but only started sending her text messages recently?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Procedure.”

“I’m not into texting. I’d rather talk face to face, you know? So things don’t get misinterpreted,” Scott insists.

“Where did you first meet her?”

“The café across from the accounting firm where I work.”

“What café?” the officer asks, still staring—still grilling Scott for answers.

“I can’t remember what it’s called,” Scott confesses. “Am I under arrest?”

“No,” Detective Hughes responds. The brightly lit room makes his wrinkles quite noticeable.

“I have to get home. I work early in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I might have to go to a conference and I’m really not prepared. I have a lot to do.”

“Please don’t leave the country, Mr. Reed. In fact, let us know if you’re going anywhere at all,” he orders, flipping his folder closed and getting up from his seat. “Just a precaution, in case we need to ask you anymore questions.”

“Oh, uh, okay. I’ll let you know.” Scott nods.

“We’ll be in touch.”

Chapter Three

Renae

Scott walks into the office building, cautiously placing one foot in front of the other. The lights hurt his eyes and aren’t helping his hangover. The bourbon he indulged in last night was perhaps not the best idea in the world, but he felt he needed it to relax and actually get a decent night’s sleep. His clothes reek. His breath still smells of the hard liquor. His brown eyes are glazed over and expressionless. He hasn’t felt like this since his first year of college, after a hard night of drinking in the bleachers at the football game.

“Whoa, you look like crap.” Renae giggles. “What happened to you after you dropped me off?”

“I had a drink.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

Renae takes the hint and backs off. It’s clear that Scott really doesn’t want to participate in any form of social interaction right now, so she leaves him alone and heads back to her desk with her dark roast coffee in hand. She has a considerable amount of paperwork to complete before lunch time, anyway. The boss decided it would be fine to just dump it on her, instead of distributing the workload fairly between everyone, and Renae was definitely not going to speak up—she’s new. The last one in. The lowest on the food chain. And so she’s about to complete enough work for three whole days in less than four hours. Other than Scott, she doesn’t really know anyone at the office that she’d feel comfortable asking for assistance, and Scott definitely doesn’t seem to be in any condition to actually get any work done.

I wish he had invited me for drinks.
Her plans with Sophie had fallen through when Sophie ended up having to stay late at her work. Without anything exciting to do, Renae had gone home alone to her huge apartment and eaten ice cream by herself straight out of the carton over the kitchen sink.

Her stack of paperwork sits tall in front of her. Procrastinating as usual, she swipes through local news articles on her phone.

Local Woman Found Tortured And Murdered In Her Basement On Victor Street.

Renae is disturbed by this. It’s only a few blocks from where she lives and she doesn’t have an alarm system. She’s been considering having one installed but keeps putting it off. Getting written permission from her landlord that she never sees seems like too much of a hassle right now. With this news, she’s going to give it a bit more thought.

Also, some corporate dude was caught embezzling funds, and the construction at the Notre Dame and Lasalle intersection should be cleared up soon, which is nice because it’s really affecting traffic. Renae is getting annoyed with having to leave an extra fifteen minutes early for work every morning.

Watching the hands on the clock move painfully slow, Renae sighs. She unlocks the screen to her phone and dials Sophie’s number.

“I’m so over this place. Want to grab something to eat?” Renae asks.

“Already? It’s not even lunch time. And you just started working there. How are you over it already?”

“I need to get out of my office. It’s like prison. I just stare at these walls. There’s nothing to look at. It’d be better if I actually had an office with a window, or at least one across from Scott’s office. An office with a view, y’know?” She giggles.

“Who is Scott?”

“One of the senior account managers.”

“Sounds important. Does he have a window in his office?” Sophie asks, almost sarcastically.

“Yes.”

“I’ll meet you at that little place across from where you work,” Sophie suggests.

Renae sits up from her seat and peers out of her office to see if anyone is around. She grabs her black and white striped dress jacket and throws it over her shirt. It’s a light jacket and won’t protect her from the harsh winds but thankfully she doesn’t have far to go. She briefly wishes she had worn a slightly longer jacket that would provide warmth to her bare legs and she sighs, wondering why she decided to wear a pencil skirt and knee high leather boots to work on such a cold day. She feels as though she may be overdressed for the office, but she’d rather make a good impression than have anyone think she’s too lazy to put on foundation and mascara in the morning. She did, however, skip out on the black eyeliner and dark purple shadow she normally wears—she’d like to still remain approachable without looking like she’s trying too hard.

The thirty second walk across the street feels much longer, with the cold air nipping at her ears. This reminds her Christmas is coming—that dreadful holiday where she’ll have to take several days off in order to drive home, hopefully not in a blizzard, to visit with her parents and her great aunt. Her aunt won’t even know that she’s visiting—she has dementia and was placed in a seniors home several years ago. If Renae doesn’t visit, the alternative might be even worse: she’d have to spend Christmas by herself. She’s only spent one Christmas alone in her life, and that was when the weather was so terrible, and visibility so poor, that the highways were closed. She stayed home, wore brand new pajamas decorated with penguins wearing Santa hats, sipped hot cocoa, and ate popcorn while watching
Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer
on television. While it was relaxing, it was also utterly depressing.

“Hey, Ren.” Sophie smiles, handing Renae a mug of coffee.

“Thanks.” Renae is distracted.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s Scott,” she says softly, pointing to the man in the corner booth, wearing dark sunglasses and drinking a glass of water.

“Oh. Hey, Scott!” Sophie calls out.

“Shh, Soph—that’s weird.”

“Oh, come on. Who is he, anyway?”

“Just a co-worker.”

“Well, let’s go sit with your co-worker.” Sophie grins. She grabs Renae’s arm and pulls her toward the table. They take a seat.

Scott looks up from his daze. “Hi, Renae.”

He looks like he’s hurting bad today. Renae wonders what may have happened last night. Was he dating someone and she broke it off? Did he get an upsetting phone call from a family member? Something surely must have happened for him break down and drink all by himself. Even more disturbing is the fact that he lied about it to her, saying he’d only had one drink when clearly he had more than one.

“H-hi Scott,” Renae stammers.

“I’m Sophie. Renae talks about you a lot,” Sophie announces, offering her hand. Her outgoing, friendly demeanor is something Renae has always liked about her, but sometimes it was a little too much. Scott is obviously not interested in any kind of socialization right now, and Renae feels a bit embarrassed by her friend’s loud behavior.

“She does?” Scott asks, glancing over to Renae. Their eyes meet for a second and Renae gives a shy smile.

“I mentioned you work at the firm and that you gave me a ride home last night,” Renae explains. “Thanks again for that, by the way.”

“Oh, no problem.”

“Renae and I were going to go to the gym, and then out for a quick coffee, but I ended up having to work late. I’m an editor for the local newspaper and the hours are usually pretty great but sometimes we end up behind. It was a really long night,” Sophie groaned.

“So was mine,” Scott grumbles.

“What did you do last night?” Sophie inquires.

“Couldn’t sleep, that’s all. What gym do you girls go to?” Scott asks, changing the subject.

“The one down the street,” Renae interjects, feeling the need to make herself part of this conversation too. “It’s called Boom Fitness. It’s really not a bad price, either. It’s less than forty dollars per month and that includes towel service and use of the pool.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scott says, nodding.

“What’s with the glasses?” Sophie questions him.

“I have a headache.”

“Should we leave you alone?”

“I have to go, anyway. I need to get back to work.”

“I’ll see you back at the office later.” Renae smiles. She scoots out of the booth so Scott can make his way out.

“Yeah, see you later. It was nice meeting you, Sophie.”

Both girls stare as he walks out of the café.

“He seems interesting,” Sophie comments.

“He’s not usually that strange. Something is up with him.”

“He’s weird, Ren.”

“He’s nice. He gave me a ride home last night,” Renae insists.

“I know. He probably just wanted to get into your pants.” Sophie grins.

“Oh, whatever. He’s a really nice guy; he’s just obviously got something going on. What’s new with you?”

“Don’t change the subject. You like him,” Sophie, laughs, poking at Renae.

“Leave it, Soph,” Renae demands.

“Okay, fine. Don’t be so touchy. Are you actually going back to work today? I thought you said you were over it, and I got the impression you’d be done for the day. Let’s go to the gym.”

“No, I’m sorry. I actually do have a ton of stuff I need to get done, so I should get back up there. It’s not very good work ethic if I start blowing work off within the first few weeks,” Renae sighs.

“All right, well, I’m going to head to the gym. Feel free to join me later if you want to. Just send me a text to see if I’m still there.”

“Sure. Thanks for the coffee.”

***

Sophie

“Hey, Sophie?”

Sophie presses the stop button on the treadmill and turns around, pulling her ear buds out of her ear. She’s secretly upset that she didn’t get to hear the rest of Journey’s
Any Way You Want It
. She’ll have to replay it later.

“Oh, Scott, hi,” Sophie says slowly, slightly confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you I wanted to join the gym.”

“I know but I didn’t think you meant today. Like, right now.” Sophie laughs.

“Well, I figured why not. I’ve been putting it off for long enough. Now is as good a time as any to get back into it. These abs aren’t going to stay this way forever if I don’t do anything to keep them this way, you know.”

At the mention of his abs, Sophie glances downwards. His shirt is tight, revealing a rock hard body underneath.

“That—that makes sense,” Sophie agrees.

Without another word, Scott walks away.

That was so weird. But god, he is so gorgeous.

Sophie shrugs off the weird interaction and goes back to her workout with her music playing. Every so often, she glances back to the equipment behind her, wondering if she can catch a glimpse of Scott’s work out or if he’s perhaps in a different room by now. Her question is answered about half an hour later, when she looks back and unintentionally makes eye contact with a sweaty, strong Scott, lifting weights on a bench behind her.

Sophie cannot blink, and Scott refuses to look away. Finally, she turns and breaks their intense gaze. She feels as though she’s done with this workout, even though her routine calls for another five minutes of cardio and another seven minutes of strength exercises. She hops down from the treadmill and wipes it off with a rag. She folds the rag neatly in half and hangs it on the arm of the treadmill.

“I’m done too,” Scott says, standing right behind her. She’s startled, and turns to look him in the eyes.

“D-did you have a good workout?” she asks, stammering.

“Let’s go back to your place.”

Sophie doesn’t even need to respond to this. She knows what she’d say if she did, and she has a feeling that Scott does too. Both of them are silent as they walk out of the building to the parking lot where Sophie’s car is parked.

Sophie pulls her phone out of her pocket, pretending to check the time, and sends Renae a quick text message.

Sophie: Do u like him?

Renae: Who, Scott? No.

That’s good enough for her.

The drive back to Sophie’s place, although short, is slightly awkward. Sophie and Scott look in opposite directions to avoid eye contact. Once inside Sophie’s house, both of them seem very at ease, knowing exactly what’s going to happen.

In the entrance way, while Sophie is taking off her boots, Scott grabs her by the neck. He pushes her up against the wall. She hits her head hard enough that it almost hurts.

“Whoa.” Sophie giggles. “I guess you like it rough.”

“You have no idea.”

He squeezes her neck harder, and she’s unable to move. He leans down and kisses her with what feels like years of built-up frustration. Sophie feels her wetness stir below and her knees feel weak. She jumps up and wraps her legs around Scott’s waist. He releases his grip on her neck and puts both hands on her ass. He pushes up against the wall, grinding on her. She moans and throws her head back as he makes his way further into her house with her still on him.