“Cove,” my lawyer puts his pen down and places his notes in his briefcase. I run my fingers through my hair and wait for some solid advice from a man who’s been doing this for decades. His finely trimmed gray hair and thousand-dollar suit convey the presence of a renowned, experienced, professional to anyone who enters the room, and I’m glad he’s by my side.

“You okay?” he asks.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“Stay calm. I’ll take care of this, after what you’ve told me it sounds like the girl’s upset that you fired her.”

“Or I’m being set up.”

“Cove, I’m serious. I want you to take a few deep breaths and calm down.”

I place my hands on my head and exhale. He’s right. I’m furious... and shitting bricks. Damn it, I don’t want to be entangled in this and go through the same thing my father went through years ago. “Is she okay? She’s not badly injured, is she? I feel awful that this happened to her, even though she’s saying I did it.”

He straightens his tie then checks his cell. “Hang in there alright? Your parents and Sophia are out front and everything’s going to be okay. A rape kit was given at the hospital and I’ve been told there was evidence left behind, but that’s all I know. You haven’t been arrested yet, and if you’re innocent, we can easily clear this up after you answer a few questions and take a DNA test.”

“What do you mean, if I’m innocent? And anyway, this station already did a DNA test on me months ago... in fact, they did two, remember? The swab and the blood test. Do they need another? Can’t they just use what they already have? I don’t want to fucking wait forever for the results.”

“I’ll talk to them about it. I’m sure it’s still in their databank,” he checks his phone again, always fucking looking at his cell. “Cove, remember to watch your language while you’re questioned. Are you ready to speak with the detectives, or is there something else you’d like to discuss?”

I nod and take a deep breath. “Ready.”

He’s only gone a few minutes before returning with Detective Perry and another detective who I’ve seen around this office many times. They’re an awkward pair. Perry is one of those midwestern-cowboy-wannabe types. Wearing black cowboy boots, tight black jeans with a large belt buckle, and a white button down shirt that has pearl snaps, he could easily step right into a contemporary western. I eye him rolling his sleeves like he’s preparing for a fight as he takes the seat in front of me. Black hair, blue eyes, and a full mustache. The other detective is half his size, a woman probably in her thirties, who seems to have opted out of the soft appearance dress of her partner and is in full uniform. She joins us at the table and stares into my eyes.

“Mr. Everton, you’ve met Detective Perry, and I’m Detective Menendez, you’ve been accused of sexually assaulting Miss Ivy Moore. We understand that she’s an employee of yours, is this correct?”

“Former employee. She was fired earlier today.”

“And that’s why you called her in this morning, so you could fire her?”

“No. I called her because she brought an article to work about my wife’s father, Paul Jameson. I wanted to question her about it, and read it myself. I needed to make sure it wasn’t anything that was going to cause my family any harm. I know you know who I am, and I don’t believe I have to explain what I mean by that.”

“Cove,” my lawyer raises a brow as a signal to relax.

“I’m sorry. Please continue,” I say.

“Why did you fire Miss Moore?”

“She mouthed off to me, called me by my porn name, and joked about the industry. I found her words to be very disrespectful to me and my wife.”

“And she left when you fired her?”

“Yes, in tears. My head of security for the Scarlett was there and witnessed the entire conversation.”

“Did you see her after that?”

“No.”

“How long was it after she left that you decided to leave the building?”

“About thirty or forty-five minutes.”

“Which door did you exit?”

Detective Menendez is asking the questions as the other detective is leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“I went out the front door.”

“Were you in the back parking lot of your building at any time today?”

“Are you saying Ivy was raped on my property?”

“Cove.” My lawyer cuts in again. He said I should keep my mouth shut except to answer their questions. I close my eyes and exhale then continue on.

“The last time I was in the parking lot was with my wife and security guard when we closed the bar, but not since.”

“What time did you leave The Dark Scarlett this morning?”

“I believe around ten-thirty.”

A text comes through Detective Perry’s phone and he shows it to his partner then leaves the room. Good. The less people staring at me the better. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans but quickly stop when I remember it’s a sign of guilt, and decide to sit on them instead. They’re shaking like an old car engine and I could really use a drink right about now. Fuck.

“What did you do then?” the detective asks.

“I drove over to the Tribune news building on Market Street and circled it a few times searching for my father’s car.”

“Why?”

God, this is gonna take forever. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” she holds a straight face and glares into my eyes once more.

I tell her about Ivy’s mother, more about the article, and how my father fits into all of this, and my drive in the city to try and locate him. When I hear myself talk about it, I’d say I was guilty. It sounds fishy and completely unbelievable. I fired an employee and then went to her mother’s business and private residence afterward? What the fuck for? Am I a stalker or something? I seem like a creep. My lawyer signals me to continue on, even though I’m hesitant and would probably fair better if I just made something up.

“So you went to Strozki’s Fine Chocolates at what time?”

“I have the receipt in my wallet at home. I’d say around eleven-thirty. It took a while to pick something out because I’d never really done anything like that before.”

“Like what?”

“Buy my wife chocolates.” Fuck. That sounds awkward as well. Like, I did something wrong and felt like shit, so I bought my wife a gift to cover my feelings of guilt. Fuckin’ A.

“Then?”

“Home. Got there after twelve.”

“Did you shower when you returned home?”

Fuck. I swallow hard. “Yes,” I respond in a dry voice.

“Do you normally shower in the afternoon?”

“You don’t have to answer that question,” my lawyer finally jumps in. Goddamn, I feel like he could’ve said that a few more times during this process.

“Mr. Everton, do you know if anyone saw you today during your drive through the city? Can anyone account for your whereabouts between the time you left your business and the time you arrived at Strozki’s?”

“No.”

“Hold on,” my lawyer turns to me. “You don’t know if anyone saw you or not. It’s possible. There’re a lot of people in this city.”

“Then yes, it’s possible,” I respond to the detective.

“I have one more question for you. Can you tell me what door your father used when he left the Scarlett this morning?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see him leave.” The words get caught in my throat and I expel a cough.

“But you were standing out front talking to the glass company. Correct?”

“Yes,” I take a sip of water, my hands still shaking like a scared dog.

“Is there another door he could’ve used besides the one in the back of your business? Or is that the only other way out?”

“Cove. Let’s stop here,” my lawyer says.

Thank God. Where the fuck did my father go earlier today, and why?

“What now?” I ask.

Detective Menendez gets a text and flashes a smile for the first time since she entered the room. Her front teeth are huge and remind me of Bugs Bunny. “Hold tight. I’ll return in a few minutes to discuss how we’ll proceed from here.”