“Freddie... I’m sorry. Don’t be mad with me. I was trying to handle it on my own.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad that this guy hassled you, and I had no idea you were going through something like this. How could I not know you were so upset and stressed out?”

“I didn’t want you to know. It’s not your fault.”

It bothered him greatly that she’d felt the need to keep something so huge from him, but he’d deal with that part of it later—after he heard the rest of the story.

“Anyway,” she said with another sigh, “Andre came into the gym today looking for me and Glen stopped him from coming in. Andre is a lot bigger than Glen, and I was afraid he was going to hurt him, so I tried to help him.”

Freddie had to bite his tongue to keep from asking why she’d had to be the one to protect Glen.

“It turned into a big melee with other staff and members getting involved.”

“How did you get hit?”

“I don’t think he meant to hit me...”

“Who hit you? Was it Andre?”

She gave a tiny nod that seemed to cost her. “He whirled around and connected with my face. It all happened so fast... I hit the back of my head on the desk. And then I was sort of out of it for a while. Next thing I knew the police were there, and they were arresting him.”

“You said Andre is bigger than Glen, and Glen is huge. Andre could’ve killed you with one hit. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know that now, but I really wasn’t afraid of him hurting me.”

“You pulled pepper spray on him,” Freddie reminded her, making an effort to keep his voice down. “You must’ve felt threatened to do that.”

“I wanted him to know I could and would defend myself. That was all.” She glanced up at him. “I knew you’d be mad with me.”

“I’m not mad. I’m sad that this happened to you, and that you felt you couldn’t come to me about it. That makes me really sad.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

“Don’t be sorry. Nothing about this is your fault. You’re the victim here, and you’re going to pursue charges against this guy, you got me?”

“Yes, I will. I want him to leave me alone.”

“We’ll see about getting a restraining order too,” Freddie said, even though he was far too aware of how often restraining orders were violated.

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Tired, Freddie. So tired.”

“Get some rest.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right here.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.” He’d never loved her more than he did right then. Seeing her bruised and beaten had sparked a primal need to protect her. That she’d kept such an important thing from him in order to protect him was something they’d have to talk more about later. And he’d also be having a conversation with this guy Andre as soon as he could get back to HQ.

* * *

Sam and Arnold entered the interrogation room while Terrell headed for observation. She’d suggested it might be better to keep the FBI out of the room for the moment, and he’d agreed. He was much more malleable than his superior, that was for sure. Hill would’ve demanded entry into the interrogation room, even if it made sense to take a softer approach at the outset.

Bringing the FBI acronym into an investigation changed the game. She wanted Hughes to talk to them, not clam up.

The minute they walked into the room, he surged to his feet. “I want a lawyer.” His shoulder-length brown hair had been tied back into a ponytail, and his jeans and hoodie had been switched out for an orange jumpsuit. “They fucking strip-searched me!”

The strip search tended to humble even the most obnoxious of collars. “Routine part of processing,” Sam said. “Who do you want us to call for you?”

“How the hell do I know? I’ve never needed a lawyer before.”

“Not even when you were taken to court for failure to pay child support?”

“Is that the kind of lawyer I need now?”

“Not exactly. Can you afford to pay for a lawyer or would you like us to call the public defender?”

“How much does a lawyer cost?”

“Don’t exactly know the going rate, but I suspect they aren’t cheap. All that schooling goes to their heads.”

“Fine, then call the public defender.”

“You know they’re closed today because it’s a holiday, right?”

“So what does that mean?”

“A sleepover,” Sam said, gratified to watch some of the starch go out of him as he began to realize his predicament. “Of course if you rescind your request for a lawyer, we can have our chat today and maybe get you home before bedtime.” She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter at all to her what he decided. “Up to you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked tentatively.

“I can’t talk to you with your request for a lawyer on the record.”

“Fine! No lawyer, for now anyway.”

“Detective Arnold, please record our conversation with Mr. Hughes.”

Arnold moved from his post at the doorway and turned on the recorder, noting the date, time and parties present.

“Mr. Hughes,” Sam said, “have you rescinded your earlier request for an attorney?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, I’ve rescinded my request for an attorney. Can we get on with it?”

“Let’s talk about Lori Phillips.”

He paled at the mention of Lori’s name. “I thought this was about outstanding child support?”

“We’ll get to that. I want to start with Lori.”

He eyed her tentatively. “What about her?”

“How do you know her?”

“We went out a couple of times. No big deal.”

“How long have you known her?”

“I don’t know. A few months maybe?”

“How did you meet her?”

“An online dating thing. I meet a lot of girls that way.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

He squirmed in his seat and fidgeted with his hands. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do know. I think you know exactly when you last saw her.”

“We hooked up yesterday. So what?”

“Tell me what happened yesterday, and don’t leave anything out.”

He looked down at the table, seemingly trying to decide what he should say. Then he looked up at her, and Sam detected the first hint of fear. All the cockiness was gone. “She hit me up with a text in the morning, telling me she was going to be in the city and wanted to get together. So I told her to stop by.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah, she did. We hung out for a couple of hours, and then she left to go do something with one of her friends for New Year’s. I was going to a party. It was all good.”

“Can you give me a list of people who were at that party who can confirm you were there?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sam slid her notebook across the table. “Give me at least three people.” While he got busy writing, she said, “What went on while she was at your house?”

“We hung out. And stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“We fucked. Is that what you want to know?”

“Yeah, it is. How many times did you fuck?”

A bead of sweat appeared on his forehead, which gave Sam a queer sense of accomplishment. “Like, you want a number?”

“That’d be good.”

“Twice. And she blew me too. Satisfied?”

“Sounds like you were. So it was probably your semen that was found inside her vagina after she was murdered?”

His face got even paler than it already was at the mention of murder. “I didn’t kill her. She left my house around two, and I haven’t seen or talked to her since.”

“How come you didn’t glove up when you had sex with her?”

“She’s on the pill.”

“That doesn’t protect you against diseases.”

He shrugged that off as if it wasn’t something he worried about.

“Did she tell you where she was going when she left your place?”

“Nope and I didn’t ask.”

Sam tended to believe him when he said he didn’t kill her, but she was still going to request the DNA to make the connection to the semen. “I’m going to need you to provide a DNA sample.”

“Why, so you can build a murder case against me?” More beads of sweat joined the others at his hairline.