Cards of Love: The Devil (Devil's Playground #1)(53)

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to care about someone else’s reputation.”

“You’re right. I’m not.” I pull my old phone—the one I gave to Cain—out of my pocket—and the current one I use. “But Caleb is. He never used his phone to talk to her. He used mine.”

“There are two phones on the table.”

“I know. Caleb didn’t want anything being traced back to him.” The best lie is the one closest to the truth. “Not only did he get accepted to Harvard and was on his way up the political ladder, but he had a girlfriend. He didn’t want her to know he was cheating on her. So, in the spirit of friendship, I gave him my old phone and told him to use it to talk to Mrs. Miller and whoever else he wanted to. I got myself a new one.”

“So, Mrs. Miller was right. The three of you were sexually involved.”

“We messed around with her together, yes.” I grin. “I’ll leave the explicit details up to your imagination.”

He sits back down in the seat across from me. “It didn’t bother you to watch him have sex with the same woman you were having sex with?”

“Hell no.” I lick my lips. “I enjoy watching the people I fuck, fuck other people…while I fuck their brains out.” I flash him some teeth. “However, that’s where all the excitement ends for me. I didn’t get emotionally attached to her like Caleb did. Relationships aren’t really my thing. Never have been.”

His forehead wrinkles. “According to his brother, Caleb became jealous when he found out you two were involved. Yet, you’re saying he was comfortable watching you sleep with her.”

“I’m not sure why Cain would say that when Caleb’s jealousy was directed toward Mrs. Miller’s husband.” I swallow. “But you’d be surprised what someone would do…what rules they would break for the person they’re infatuated with.” I clear my throat. “Anyway, Caleb probably never told Cain about it because he didn’t want his brother to know he was having threesomes with a guy. Not everyone is a free spirit when it comes to sex, and most people aren’t comfortable talking about their sex life with their family members.”

He brings his pen to his lips. “Thank you for your insight. However, there’s still one more thing that doesn’t quite add up.”

“What’s that?”

“Why is Mrs. Miller insisting that she was sleeping with Cain…not Caleb?”

I smirk. “Come on, Detective. You’re a smart man. Caleb and Cain are identical twins. Why would she admit to sleeping with Caleb when she can claim she slept with Cain? In other words—the twin she’s not being accused of murdering.”

He blinks rapidly as though the thought never occurred to him before he furiously jots something down on his notepad.

“And earlier when you said Caleb got emotionally attached, you mean—”

“Obsessed. Mrs. Miller was all he would talk about. Her leaving her husband consumed his every waking thought.”

“Did Caleb ever threaten to harm Mrs. Miller?”

“Not unless she asked for it.” I wince, preparing to steer this boat in another direction. “Her husband, the part-time electrician, on the other hand…”

He stops writing. “What about her husband?”

“Let’s just say Mrs. Miller was into rough sex with me and Caleb because she liked to turn all the pain her bastard husband caused her into pleasure.”

“Her husband hits her?”

“Hits. Punches. Chokes. Sometimes all three.”

“Did you ever urge her to report him to the authorities?”

“She’s a twenty-nine-year-old woman with a degree, Detective. She knows she can report him if she wanted to. She, like most people in her situation, fear the repercussions.”

His gaze turns scrutinizing. “And yet she found the time to cheat on her husband regularly. Most women in abusive situations are far too scared to do something like that.” The judgment in his tone is apparent. “Not to mention, her husband took out a second mortgage and a loan to pay for her bail at the courthouse this morning. Doesn’t sound like someone who would want to har—” The sound of his phone ringing cuts him off mid-sentence. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

I start to stand up, but he points to the chair and mouths, “Sit.”

Reluctantly I plop back down.

“What?” he exclaims, dropping his pen. “When?” He turns ashen. “I see. I’ll be there shortly.”

A strange feeling claws up my spine as he hangs up the phone and stands.

“You’re free to go.”

I stay rooted to my seat. “Why? What happened?”

His pompous expression from before is now one of sorrow. “It seems you were right.”

My stomach twists and my chest becomes heavy.

I already know the next words out of his mouth before he says them.

“Shortly after they arrived home from the courthouse, Mrs. Miller’s husband beat her to death, and then shot himself.”

“Congratulations, Detective,” I bite as I walk toward the door. “You were so busy blaming her for a murder she didn’t commit, and questioning me about my sex life, the real killer got away with it.”