Page 113 of Gilt

“None of these are questions,” Jameson points out.

“No,” I respond, eager to get this over with so that I can separate the two of them. “I told you that we went skinning dipping, we spent some time together, and we fell asleep.”

Her eyes narrow. So much for trying to call my bluff. What would be the point of trying to change my story now?

“Are you certain that’s what happened?”

What do they say? The truth will set you free. Or you’ll just get asked the same question over and over until you lie simply to break the cycle. “Yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

Jameson asked me not to lie on his behalf, which is why I don’t bother to claim he was actually next to me the entire evening.

“So, either of you could have gotten up in your sleep, and the other one wouldn’t have known.” She’s having a hard time asking actual questions. I guess it’s a good thing that she’s sticking to the law and not the order side. Leading the witness, anyone?

“I suppose.” I grant her this one tiny admission, mostly because it’s pretty fucking obvious.

“Who exactly do you think did it now, Detective Mackey?” Jameson cuts straight to the point. “Because without evidence, this is becoming harassment.”

“Isn’t it wonderful that the Federal Bureau of Investigation is above such petty concerns?” She smiles serenely at him before turning her attention back to me. “Emma, are you a virgin?”

I snort in surprise. Of all the things Detective Mackey could be here to ask me, that’s pretty far down on the list of possibilities.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Jameson says, but she holds up a hand to silence him once more.

“Miss Southerly wants to be cooperative.”

Challenge accepted. “No, I am not.”

“How long have you been sexually active?” she continues.

“I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with the murder?” I bypass her question because my answer is pretty embarrassing, especially when you consider I’ve been practically begging my boyfriend to screw me all week.

“I’d prefer if you would just answer the question.”

“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest as if that can shield me from the oncoming humiliation. “I lost my virginity a couple of years ago in a rash moment of stupidity, and I haven’t done it since then.”

“So you aren’t sexually active?”

It’s strange to see Mackey unnerved. It isn’t the response she expected, but I’m still not certain what this has to do with Nathaniel West or what happened that night.

“No, I’m not having sex if that answers your question.”

“You’ll pardon me if I find that surprising.” She scribbles a note on her pad of paper.

“You mean: how did I land a billionaire without the aid of my vagina?” I retort. If I have to be uncomfortable, so does everybody. “Look, have me go to a doctor or something. It’s probably been so long that it’s closed back up.”

“Vaginas don’t close back up.”

“Gee, thanks for the biology lesson,” I tell her, “but these are the facts. I haven’t had sex in over three years.”

“So now that she’s answered your question, would you care to elaborate on exactly what you were hoping to find out today?” Jameson asks.

She closes the notepad and shoves it inside her bag. “She’s given me an answer. Whether or not it proves to be true is another matter entirely.”

Oh my God. Where is a wall to hit when you need one?

“If I had information to share with you, I would.” I’m tired of the games and double speak, so I opt for being direct. “But I don’t lie, and I don’t appreciate people who show up and accuse me of doing so.”

“Noted.” Mackey stands up and smooths down her pants. “We’ll be in touch if we have further questions.”