She Can Hide (She Can #4)(35)

And explained why the prosecutor’s office had cleaned house. Whether or not they were truly responsible, someone had to pay the public-image piper.

Except for a slight, polite frown, Whitaker’s flawless face remained devoid of expression. Either he didn’t really care or his facial muscles had been Botoxed into submission.

Whitaker’s predecessor would never have blindsided her like this. Mark Bailey had kept her apprised of everything. Light glinted off Whitaker’s gelled hair as he leaned closer, reaching to rest a manicured hand on Abby’s shoulder. Unable to retreat any further in the high-backed chair, Abby gritted her teeth. His touch felt metaphorically slimy. She’d need a decontamination shower to get rid of the taint.

“Does anyone know where Faulkner is?” Ethan glared at Whitaker’s hand.

The prosecutor put it back on his thigh. “Faulkner wasn’t paroled. He was released. His conviction was overturned. Without the physical evidence, we decided there was no point in retrying his case.”

“So he isn’t required to report in to anyone,” Ethan finished in a dead tone.

“Right,” Whitaker said. “After all, you never saw his face. You only recognized his voice. He never admitted his guilt. It isn’t likely a jury will convict a man based solely on the sound of his voice.”

Abby couldn’t process the news. “But there was other evidence.…”

“Not enough for a conviction.” Whitaker blinked.

Abby’s stomach heaved. One hand shot up to cover her mouth. Whitaker slid backward on the edge of his desk, his mask cracking with revulsion for an instant.

She swallowed, sucked a deep breath in through her nose, and let it out through pursed lips. The cut on her temple stung. She touched the bandage.

“Are there any records of family or last known address?” Ethan asked.

Whitaker’s voice turned sour. “I can’t give out personal information. Nor can I allow you to harass Faulkner, even if you are a police officer. You are out of your jurisdiction, Officer Hale, and legally, Faulkner is now an innocent man. His conviction was wiped away as if it never happened.”

Abby took another deep breath. Oh God. He really was out. And not just out, but free to do as he liked. No check-ins with a parole officer. No reporting requirements. Nothing. He could be anywhere. Faulkner had accomplished what Abby was unable to do. He’d wiped his slate clean.

Ethan got up and moved to stand behind her chair, positioning himself eye to eye with Whitaker. “Someone tried to kill Ms. Foster last Friday.”

Ethan rested both hands on her shoulders. The weight of them anchored her. She reached across her body and put her hand on top of his.

Apprehension flickered in the prosecutor’s eyes. “I don’t see what that has to do with Mr. Faulkner’s release.”

Abby opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. What could she say? The only retort readily available in her brain was, Seriously, are you an idiot? Voicing it wouldn’t gain them any cooperation. Not that they were getting much now, but animosity from the prosecutor’s office wouldn’t help matters.

Ethan squeezed her shoulders in a silent I got this assurance. “It seems convenient that he was released a few weeks before Ms. Foster was attacked.”

“Or it’s just a coincidence.” Whitaker lowered his honed body into the chair and picked up a file from the bin on his desk. Their interview was over. “There are lawsuits pending against the county because of the situation. I can’t discuss it any further.”

Ethan’s fingers tightened. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”




Ethan barely kept up as Abby bolted from the heated building into the chill of the parking lot. The heels of her boots echoed on the pavement. A bus drove past. Lingering exhaust fumes smelled harsh after their meeting with Whitaker, as if the air was tainted by his message that Abby wasn’t worth the effort of retrying her kidnapper.

She stumbled. Ethan caught her by the elbow. He wrapped an arm around her waist, slowing her down as they approached his truck.

“Easy.” He opened the door and helped her into the passenger seat. Her hands were trembling, and tears welled up in her eyes. Ethan rounded the truck and slid into the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, he blasted the heat and aimed the vents at Abby.

She fumbled with her purse, opening it and pulling out a travel packet of tissues. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to apologize.” Ethan quelled the desire to go back into Whitaker’s office and knock a couple of his perfect teeth out. What a dick.

Abby blotted her eyes and nose. She covered her eyes with one hand and slumped against the armrest.

Ethan swiveled in his seat. He lifted her hand from her face. Her eyes blazed with raw despair. “You’ve been kidnapped twice and poisoned once. You escaped from a car submerged in a frozen river and found out a former assailant has been prematurely released. Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you look for answers. You are one of the toughest people I know.”

“This last week has felt like I’m skiing on ice, just barely scraping enough traction to get through the next turn.” She sniffed and exhaled through pursed lips, clearly seeking composure. Abby needed to be in control. He wondered how many times in her life had she been at someone else’s mercy.