Page 23 of Win a Date with a Detective

“Yes?”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Oh, boy. Here we go.

I straighten in my chair. “Sure thing.”

Bronson stands. “I’ll come with her.”

The other detective shakes his head. “Actually, Bronson, we need to speak with you separately.”

I blink.“Why?”

“Because he witnessed you returning the ring.”

Oh. That makes sense.

Although I’m suddenly considerably less enthusiastic about being questioned without him at my side.

“Just tell them the truth.” Bronson looks down at me. “You’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

His expression softens. “I promise.”

My stomach does a little flip. And I believe him.

There’s just something about Bronson.

Something steady. Something reassuring.

Something that makes me feel safe even when everything around me is spiraling into chaos.

I follow the security guard toward a small office near the restaurant’s entrance.

And discover that actual questioning is considerably less glamorous than television suggests.

For starters, there isn’t an interrogation room.

There’s a desk.

Two chairs.

And a printer that sounds like it’s actively dying. It’s nothing like TV. How disappointing.

I’m barely settled when the questions start.

The detective opens his notebook. “Can you tell me what happened when Vanessa offered to let you try on her ring?”

“Well, first of all, I should establish that I had absolutely no intention of trying on her ring.”

He looks up. “Okay.”

“She offered.”

“Understood.”

“And I actually declined initially.”