My lawyer calls at ten o’clock on Sunday. I’m already awake, burrowed under my comforter. I don’t know how long I’ve been lying like this.

I don’t care.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Angelica. Are you at home?”

“Of course.”

“How soon can you be at the police station?”

I shove my hair away from my face and roll over onto my back. “Half an hour. Is there something they want?”

She sighs a little, like I’m deliberately being an idiot. “They want to question you, Angelica.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll meet you there.

When she hangs up, I toss my phone onto the bedside table and get out of bed. My muscles ache like I’m an old woman. I feel vaguely ill.

Heartbreak.

I can’t summon the energy to deal with a full shower, and anyway, I stood in there long enough last night. So I compromise by taking five minutes to twist my hair into a respectable bun at the back of my head and choose an outfit that won’t make me look like some kind of desperate criminal.

If only I hadn’t done this to Jett.

If only Charlie had chosen anyone else to be the target.

Shit, if that were true, then I might still have a chance with the man I’m almost certain is the love of my life.

It was stressful, doing what I did, but when I was with him there were stretches of time when it faded into the background. He made me feel treasured. Precious. Wanted. Like I’d never have to worry about walking past some street harasser, heart racing, again.

“That’s over now,” I tell myself in the mirror when I stop to check my outfit one last time. “It’s over.”

* * *

As soon as I step inside the police station, I’m nearly bowled over by a woman who’s coming at me at full speed.

At first I try to step aside—my mind is on Jett—but then her arms envelop me and I inhale her scent, and oh, my God—

“Mom?”

She squeezes me tight. “Angelica.” I look past her shoulder, and Adam is standing there, too, hands in his pockets, bags under his eyes.

My mom hugs me for a long, long minute, and then steps back to look at me. I’m expecting to see disappointment in her eyes, but they’re filled with confusion. “I don’t understand, Angie,” she says after a beat. “They want to ask me questions, too, but I didn’t have anything to do with this. Adam won’t even tell me what’s going on.”

“That’s probably...that’s probably the best choice, Mom.” I cut a glance over my mom’s shoulder at Adam, who gives me a little nod. “Tell them what you know. That’s all you need to do.”

She drops her hands to her sides, then reaches out again and pats my arm above the elbow. “Whatever it is, honey, you can tell me.”

“I will. We will.” I guide her a couple of steps closer to Adam. “What are you doing in the city?”

“The police asked us to come.”

My stomach turns over. “That doesn’t seem like—”

“I know.” Adam cuts me off. We don’t need to say out loud that my brother could be a sitting duck in the city. Things have almost certainly started to go wrong for Charlie by now, unless the police have chosen to do nothing in the interest of tracking him and his people. There’s no way to know.

I lower my voice. “Where are you staying? Not at your place, I hope.”

“The Times Square Sheraton,” my mom says, trying to put a smile on her face. “I got a bonus at work and I thought we could make a vacation out of it.” She blushes a deep red. “Not that I think this is a vacation...”

I put my arm around her shoulders. “I know what you meant, Mom. But don’t worry about the bill. I’ll pay for it.” Out of the savings I’ve spent years scraping together, but she doesn’t need to know that.

A sergeant approaches, along with a detective. The instant they introduce themselves, I’ve already forgotten their names. Now that I know my mother and brother are safe—at least for the moment—my mind turns back to Jett. Jett’s face. Jett’s hands. Jett’s heart that I’ve broken, stomped underneath my high heel like a worthless piece of trash on the sidewalk.

No—what I saw in his face wasn’t heartbreak. It was anger. It was rage.

Anger at having his heart broken.

The detective is still talking. “Mrs. Chandler, we’d like to speak with you first. This should be a quick interview.”

“Okay,” my mom says slowly, looking at me, then at Adam.

“Come back with us to my office.”

She kisses each of us on the cheek like she might not see us again, then follows the pair of them out of the room.

Adam sighs, then his eyes flick around the station. Nobody seems to be paying attention to us, but I can guess what he’s thinking. We don’t want to seem like we’re conspiring, getting a story straight...anything like that. Of course, my only experience with this kind of thing is from crime shows. Adam? I’m not so sure anymore.

“I didn’t throw you under the bus. I told them Charlie threatened you, and that it was about money. That was it.”

“I’ll tell them the rest. You don’t have to worry about it, Angie. They’re going to want to meet with me next.”

I roll my shoulders back and straighten my spine. After that, it’ll be me—and we’ll rehash all the things I told them yesterday, but in greater detail. Where exactly did I meet Charlie? What time? What was he wearing? Was there anyone with him? I settle in, start organizing my memories.

If I’m going to lose Jett, I might as well help end Charlie’s reign of terror.