care about looks, but even she was aware of the prejudice judgments cast on those suspected of committing murder. “And don’t get your feathers ruffled. They might be willing to open up to a hired investigator rather than a suspect. It has nothing to do with you being a woman and everything to do with the fact that you were already brought in for questioning in this case.”
Devyn gave Trigger a sideways look, not liking how he so easily extinguished her ire over such a statement. Yes, she considered herself his intellectual equal. She had a tendency to have an arrogant attitude at times, but she was a successful, self-established businesswoman. She deserved the same respect as any man, but in this case, Trigger was right. He should do the talking. She was liable to say some things that would only attract the hostile attentions of the investigating officer and land her ass in jail for real this time for sucker punching a police official.
“Were you able to get the name of a decent lawyer?” Devyn asked, changing her mind about going with a state defender. Showing up here voluntarily was making her nauseous. What if they didn’t allow her to leave? “I’ve been thinking maybe you were right about having counsel if they want to talk to me again.”
“I’d make a comment about how I should write your admission about my being right on the calendar, but that might actually have a negative effect on your willingness to seek counsel.”
“Smart thinking, jackass.” Devyn clutched the small purse in front of her as Trigger opened the tinted glass door, his attempt at relieving her stress not working in the least. The cool air conditioning washed over her and she couldn’t prevent goose bumps from covering her arms. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to be inside with you while we’re looking for answers?”
“It shows you’re not afraid and that you want to do everything you can to find out who hurt Joey. They need to reconsider that you might not be the perp they’re looking for in this matter.”
Hurt? Killed. In cold blood. Devyn hadn’t told Trigger or Isaac about the horribly graphic photograph one of the detectives had laid on the table. She had done her best to block the memory of it, not wanting to remember Joey that way, but to no avail. It wasn’t easy not to see him that way now and she doubted she would ever succeed in pushing that scene out of her mind’s eye.
“Hello, ma’am,” Trigger greeted the woman through the large window in the lobby. It was most likely made of bulletproof glass considering the window was actually about three-quarters of an inch thick. Devyn wasn’t sure why that crossed her mind, but it was better than concentrating on the lurching motions her stomach had decided to do for added excitement. The rather odd smell in the foyer wasn’t helping either. “I’m looking for the lead detective on Joey Wilde’s case.”
“That would be Detective Chaisson, sir,” the woman replied before nodding her head in the direction of a line of chairs against the far wall. “Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here. Your name, please?”
“John Dixon.”
Devyn noted that Trigger and the receptionist had purposefully left her out of the conversation. She walked to the chairs, noticing they were a dull grey in color that was slightly darker than the painted walls. The drab hues of the lobby could very well be a harbinger of her upcoming potential jail term. She wondered if the decorators had done that on purpose to intimidate potential suspects. She also found it strange that no one else was in the foyer except one older gentleman filling out paperwork and a fingerprint card with his information.
Trigger pulled out his phone and looked at the display. She cleared her throat and tried to listen in as he played a message. Cell service here in Corinth was almost spotless, but there was no need for her to use her phone. The only person she usually called was Joey
Devyn gave Trigger a sideways look, not liking how he so easily extinguished her ire over such a statement. Yes, she considered herself his intellectual equal. She had a tendency to have an arrogant attitude at times, but she was a successful, self-established businesswoman. She deserved the same respect as any man, but in this case, Trigger was right. He should do the talking. She was liable to say some things that would only attract the hostile attentions of the investigating officer and land her ass in jail for real this time for sucker punching a police official.
“Were you able to get the name of a decent lawyer?” Devyn asked, changing her mind about going with a state defender. Showing up here voluntarily was making her nauseous. What if they didn’t allow her to leave? “I’ve been thinking maybe you were right about having counsel if they want to talk to me again.”
“I’d make a comment about how I should write your admission about my being right on the calendar, but that might actually have a negative effect on your willingness to seek counsel.”
“Smart thinking, jackass.” Devyn clutched the small purse in front of her as Trigger opened the tinted glass door, his attempt at relieving her stress not working in the least. The cool air conditioning washed over her and she couldn’t prevent goose bumps from covering her arms. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to be inside with you while we’re looking for answers?”
“It shows you’re not afraid and that you want to do everything you can to find out who hurt Joey. They need to reconsider that you might not be the perp they’re looking for in this matter.”
Hurt? Killed. In cold blood. Devyn hadn’t told Trigger or Isaac about the horribly graphic photograph one of the detectives had laid on the table. She had done her best to block the memory of it, not wanting to remember Joey that way, but to no avail. It wasn’t easy not to see him that way now and she doubted she would ever succeed in pushing that scene out of her mind’s eye.
“Hello, ma’am,” Trigger greeted the woman through the large window in the lobby. It was most likely made of bulletproof glass considering the window was actually about three-quarters of an inch thick. Devyn wasn’t sure why that crossed her mind, but it was better than concentrating on the lurching motions her stomach had decided to do for added excitement. The rather odd smell in the foyer wasn’t helping either. “I’m looking for the lead detective on Joey Wilde’s case.”
“That would be Detective Chaisson, sir,” the woman replied before nodding her head in the direction of a line of chairs against the far wall. “Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here. Your name, please?”
“John Dixon.”
Devyn noted that Trigger and the receptionist had purposefully left her out of the conversation. She walked to the chairs, noticing they were a dull grey in color that was slightly darker than the painted walls. The drab hues of the lobby could very well be a harbinger of her upcoming potential jail term. She wondered if the decorators had done that on purpose to intimidate potential suspects. She also found it strange that no one else was in the foyer except one older gentleman filling out paperwork and a fingerprint card with his information.
Trigger pulled out his phone and looked at the display. She cleared her throat and tried to listen in as he played a message. Cell service here in Corinth was almost spotless, but there was no need for her to use her phone. The only person she usually called was Joey
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