He raises a brow. “Can you be a little less vague?”

I can’t help but glance at Nate this time. He looks almost as nervous as I feel, and I feel a physical wash of relief when he steps closer to me, his large body like a shield. I want to reach for his hand, but I swallow hard and resist.

“I was arrested when I was fifteen,” I tell Bierman, my eyes on my feet. “My record was supposed to be sealed, but I guess when you deal with people like this, the rules don’t apply.”

“People like this...” Glover says, speaking up for the first time in such a while, I forgot she was here. “What do you mean by that?”

I’m about to respond, say how the white and wealthy always seem to find ways around the law when it’s an inconvenience to them, but Bierman cuts me off. “Are you sure he didn’t let you go because things went wayward between you two?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” His smile is so arrogant, it feels violating. “Things went sour and he didn’t want you around anymore.”

“I barely knew him,” I say, finally able to find my full voice. “I spoke to him once.”

“Ever email him?”

“Only his assistant.”

“That must have been a really intense conversation to give Ms. Van Doren the impression that you two were having an affair.”

I have to repeat the words in my head over and over before they sink in.

“Taylor told you that?” I ask with a scoff. “What else did she tell you? Lavender oil cures cancer?”

“She was pretty close to her dad,” Bierman insists. “She’s all torn up, taking this pretty hard.”

“That’s bullshit.”

I’m relieved when Glover jumps back in. “What is? That you were sleeping with Mr. Van Doren or Ms. Van Doren being torn up over her father’s murder?”

“Both. And she wasn’t close to her dad.”

“Yeah, bro,” Nate says, and I’m instantly so relieved for the reminder that he’s right next to me, bearing this with me. “She fucking hated his guts.”

Glover and Bierman exchange a glance. I try to read where they’re at, and they’re both inscrutable, but it’s obvious what we’ve just said contradicts whatever Taylor told them. I’m not sure what to say, if I should even speak, but before I come up with something, Bierman brushes past Nate and heads into the bedroom. Glover lingers behind him a moment, and I catch her looking my way, and when our eyes meet, maybe it’s wishful thinking but I can’t help but feel a small spark of solidarity.

Both cops start searching the apartment. Under the bed, inside drawers, then the closets.

I turn to Nate, and he pulls me close.