I don’t know what I was expecting, but when Knox ushered me into the hallway my heart stopped. Two policemen were standing in the hall.
I couldn’t have turned redder if I’d been hit in the face with an iron after running a marathon. There I was, in nothing more than a sheet, my hair mussed and my teeth unbrushed. I gaped at them.
Both men looked me up and down, surprise written all over their faces. One of them was a head shorter than the other, and he smirked at me with a stupid presumptuous grin.
“Here she is, gentlemen,” Knox said smoothly. His arm came around my waist. I wanted to shake him off. Heck, I wanted to punch him in the gut and ask him what he thought, parading me out in one of his bedsheets like I was a piece of evidence in a court case.
“You’re—ah, you’re Chloe
