Detective Ben Whittaker was not a happy man. He had missed lunch earlier today when he had to go to a crime scene, and it looked as if he was going to miss his dinner and breakfast, too.
As he followed a guard down to where the Oakleys were waiting, he marveled at the incredible things that money could provide. Yet, he was here because there were problems, problems that had put Hayden in a wheelchair and were continuing to threaten him. Beside him, Carolanne looked like she had been dragged out of bed but didn’t give a damn. Her dark blazer hung open over jeans and boots, a pen stuck behind one ear, a notepad already in her hand.
“Mr and Mrs Oakley?” Ben’s calm voice cut through the room.
Myla was back in Hayden’s lag, ankle wrapped, scratches streaking her arms, face pale but steady.
