Billion Dollar Bad Boy (Big City Billionaires)(19)

He ran his thumbs down until they were hooked in his belt. Under one solid arm, a thick folder peeked out. “Lead the way.”

On stiff legs, I turned, marching towards the glass-windowed room down the hall. Everyone was still watching me, and when I peered back at Laralie, she held the box up and mouthed, “I'll guard this for you.”

Guard it? I knew she was probably going to sit and swoon over the dress, imagining she was wearing it to some fancy party. I was extra glad I'd found the note and took it, it would have been a disaster in her hands.

Opening the door, I motioned Roose inside. He tipped his head, settling at the long table as I closed the shutters. I didn't want my coworkers snooping through the windows at us.

“Sorry about all this,” he said as I sat down across from him. His eyes had a wet realness in them that made me think he actually was sorry. He pulled out the folder and a notebook. “I'm really hoping you can help me out.”

Crinkling my forehead, I sat uncomfortably. “You said this was about Old Stone Bank.”

His head bobbed, the red pen twirling in his fingers. I saw how thick they were, as if the young detective had worked on a farm his whole life. “Right. The robbery that happened five years ago. Now, I'm sure you—”

“Is robbery the right word?”

He paused, his pen touching the cover of the notebook. “Excuse me?”

Rocking in place, I shrugged. “I mean, whoever stole all that money... they gave it back to the people it was supposed to go to. Didn't they?”

His smile became very stale, almost patronizing. “Miss Willow, the man who hacked the bank that day, he took what wasn't meant for him. He broke the law. It was a robbery—and a large one. Plain and simple.”

Under the table, I pressed a thumb into the back of one hand. “People were being taken advantage of by that insurance company.” I'd forgotten the name, it had been so long since the news story had broke.

“I guess you listened to that bullshit spin. Bank Robber Hero,” he scoffed. “It's funny. Considering that you were almost killed that day, you're sure happy to defend the criminal we're after.”

Killed. That word cut at me, pushing sweat from my pores. Everything about that day had gone fuzzy in my memory, wobbly and muted like it had happened to someone else and I'd only heard the story secondhand.

But he was right, why was I defending someone who'd put people's lives at stake?

My life?

Guilt burned through me, as if someone had put a battery in my chest and sliced it open. “I'm sorry. You're right.”

He softened his tone. “That sounded like I was accusing you. I'm not. Actually, I'm here because you're one of the few people who had any contact with the man we're after.” His smile was gentle. “I need your help, Miss Willow.”

Pushing my hair from my face, I focused on him. “Years ago, when this all went down, I gave my statement. You should have that in your files.”

“I do, and I've read it several times.” He flicked his notebook open, scanning it. “You didn't have much to say. If anything, you mostly refused to speak. I'm here because I'm hoping to get a clearer picture.”

My tongue shriveled. “I don't remember anything. Not really.”

The pen twisted faster. “Nothing? How is that possible?”

“After... it happened, I went to see a therapist.” My mother had insisted. I'd gone from plotting my big plans, to hiding in my room and never leaving the house. “They told me it was a safety mechanism. The trauma kept me from recalling the details.”

Roose bent close, grabbing my hands on the table. It made me think of Silver, so I pulled away, uncomfortable with such intimacy from the detective. “Can I show you something?”

I nodded, and he opened up his folder. Sliding a paper to me, he waited anxiously. “Read that and tell me if it means anything to you.”

Bending close, I scoured the page. It contained a bunch of symbols, word and number vomit, if you asked me. “What am I looking for?”

“It's right there in the center.”

Squinting, I looked... and I saw it. “Oh!” Surprised, I started to read the sentence. It had been hidden in the mess. “It says, 'Silver spoons for some, government cock—” I choked.

The detective was watching me closely, did he want to see my reaction?

Cocks for everyone else, I finished in my head. I flashed him a nervous look. “What is this?”

“It doesn't mean anything to you?”

“It's a little vulgar,” I mumbled.

Sighing, he pulled the paper back. “It's a phrase that was hidden in the code that our tech intelligence were able to dig up after the latest hacking attempt. It's the hacker's calling card, if you ask me.”

The back of my neck was warm. “Oh,” I said simply.

Roose tucked the folder away, his tone stretching like he was begging me. “You honestly have no clue about it, huh?”

“I really don't.” I peeked at the door. “Is it alright if I go, now?”

“I wish I had the footage from that day, but it's still tied up in red-tape.” His chair squeaked as he rolled it forward, then backwards. In every sense, he was telegraphing his frustration. “Do me one more favor.”