Page 57 of Dark Therapy
I’d made sure to clean every trace of my presence, every trace of what had happened. Theblood, themess…all of it had been wiped away. No evidence. No nothing. I had even been thorough with the cameras. The ones in her place? Gone. I replaced them all with new ones that wouldn’t be traced back to me. The police had no idea. Millie had no idea how far I’d gone to make sure I remaineduntouchable.
I adjusted my cufflinks, the metallic glint of the silver shining under the soft light of my foyer. Taking a slow, measured breath, I walked toward the door.
The doorbell rang again.Impatient little bastards. They had no idea what they were walking into.
I slid my hand over the handle, feeling the weight of it for a moment before turning it. I opened the door, standing in the doorway with the kind of calm composure I’d perfected over years of walking through the shadows.
Detective Lawson looked at me first, his eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge me, trying to size up a man he still couldn’t figure out. The other officers stood behind him, uncertain, ready for whatever they thought they might find. They had no idea.
“Mr. Blackwell,” Lawson said, his voice tight but authoritative. “We need to talk.”
Detective Lawson’s gaze was piercing, scanning me for any sign ofguilt, anytwitch, anycrackin the cool facade I’d built. I’d been in this game too long to let a man like him get under my skin
“Talk?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly is it you think we need totalkabout, Detective?”
Lawson’s eyes flicked to the other officers, then back to me. He wasn’t as confident as he liked to pretend. He was treadingcarefully, just like the rest of them. I couldsmellthe fear in the air, thick and unspoken.
“You’re under arrest, Mr. Blackwell,” Lawson said, his voice steady but laced with a false sense of finality.
I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms, letting the weight of his words sink in. I watched him carefully. I wanted to see if he would falter, if there was any moment of weakness in his declaration.
“Under arrest?” I repeated slowly, tasting the words as if they were a joke. “For what exactly, Detective? Do you have an arrest warrant?”
Lawson’s eyes tightened. He wasn’t prepared for this. His jaw tightened, and I saw the smallest flicker of annoyance. His voice was clipped now, almost forced.
“We’ve got a warrant, Mr. Blackwell,” he said, his hand reaching inside his jacket, pulling out a small envelope and presenting it with the kind of satisfaction that only a man who thinks he’s winning could have.
I glanced at the envelope, then back at him. I didn’t move. Not even a flinch. I already knew what was coming.
“So, this is it then,” I said, a hint of dark amusement in my voice. “You think you’ve got enough to take me down? You think a piece of paper with your precious signatures is going to change the fact that you havenothing?”
Lawson’s eyes narrowed, but his grip on the envelope tightened. I could see he was trying to mask his growing irritation. He expected me to be rattled, to crumble under the pressure. But that wasn’t who I was. That wouldneverbe me.
“That’s exactly why we need to talk, Mr. Blackwell. It’s notjusta warrant,” Lawson said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “It’s for the murder of Jake Turner.”
I felt something stir inside me at the mention of Jake’s name. A sharp, coldsatisfactionbubbled to the surface, threatening to break through my calm exterior. Jake had been a problem. A loose end. But now? Now it didn’t matter.
I studied Lawson’s face, allowing a brief, cold smirk to curl at the corners of my lips. His satisfaction was premature, as I was far from worried.
“You must think I’m stupid,” I said, my voice low, laced with venom. “You don’t have a body. You don’t have a motive. And you sure as hell don’t have anyproof.”
Lawson’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he stepped forward. The smugness that had once colored his voice was now gone, replaced by something colder, more calculated.
“You’re wrong, Blackwell,” he said, his voice steady but edged with a dangerouscertainty. “Wehaveproof.”
I paused, the words hitting me harder than I expected.Proof?
“Do you?” I asked, my voice now sharper, more controlled, though the muscles in my jaw tightened involuntarily. “What kind of proof? The kind you think you’ve pieced together from your little investigation?”
Lawson’s eyes flickered, a hint of satisfaction in his expression, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he stepped forward, his voice cold and commanding.
“You’ll see soon enough,” he said, his tone a mix of quiet triumph and veiled threat. “For now, you’re coming with us.”
I didn’t flinch. They could think they had me, but I knew the game better thananyone. I’d played this game foryears—anticipating every move, calculating every risk.
Lawson’s eyes narrowed, and a cold smile spread across his face. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Jake Turner and for your involvement in other criminal activities we’re still investigating. Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Blackwell.”
I allowed a thin smile to curl on my lips as I met his gaze, unwavering. “I’m sure you have all the evidence you need to make your case. I’ll be happy to speak with my lawyer.”