“I tried to tell him. I warned him that you were nothing but a criminal just like the rest of you people. But that’s where I went wrong. If I would’ve never told him to toss your application and just let him pick you for the Milan gig like he wanted to, you wouldn’t have gone bonkers, and he’d still be here.”

I am going to strangle this racist, condescending bitch.

Now I understand the bulletproof glass between us.

I unclench my teeth. Breathe in, out. “I didn’t kill your father.” My hand shakes, just like my voice.

She frowns in disbelief. “Then who did?”

I refuse to answer her. If I do, she’ll try to trap me.

She killed him. I know she did.

If she didn’t poison him, then she hired someone to do it for her. Or maybe it was Mei. She’s the one who said she knew a guy who knew a guy. Of course Taylor wouldn’t do it herself. She’s not dumb. She probably has a Stonehenge-solid alibi.

My eyes move over her again. Her outfit is much more conservative than usual. She’s playing the part. She knows the press will be all over her every action, including coming here. She thinks of everything. She’s so good at this I’m wondering if she planned it all from the start, if she immediately saw some weakness inside me that made me the perfect choice right away, or if it was something I said, something I did. I’m wondering about all those things Nate mentioned she got away with, the people she’s hurt, lives she’s ruined, wishing I’d asked instead of holding my tongue.

Taylor’s voice snaps me back into the present. “Bet you wish you invested in an LED ring light, huh?” Her voice is laced with sarcasm.

I frown. “What?” I have no idea what this bitch is talking about.

She glances around the room, her gaze pausing on two of the guards standing only a few feet away. “I’m sure you’re the Kim K of the precinct by now,” she says, looking back at me.

The thought sends a wash of chills over my entire body. I think back to the way Bierman squirmed in his seat when I got loud on him. He’s probably already passed the photos around to every male detective in the station by now, even the guards. That’s what men do. They’re all the same.

Her gaze goes up and down me, the worst kind of laughter in her eyes. Then she frowns like she really means it. “What, did you think because I said I wanted to kill him that gave you free rein to do it? I told you I was joking.”

My voice spikes. “I didn’t—”