Chapter 2

Detective Alaric Harper was a thirty four year old who had been in the force for eight years, and he was very good at his job. He was a tall man. Larger than life as some people would describe, handsome as sin, he looked every bit the stereotypical biker, except for the fact that he’d cut shorter his dark hair.

When he and his partner arrived at the crime scene, Christopher Wesley was already dead; shot right in the head. His personal security had also been taken out. There was blood all over his home office where the murder had occurred, and the murder weapon had been missing. But they did recover something which pointed at his wife, Vanessa Spencer as the prime suspect—At least the only suspect they had at the moment.

His phone.

A quick search through his phone records, and they'd discovered that she was the last person he'd spoken to before he died. After listening to the recording of the call, Detective Alaric knew he'd have to bring her in for questioning.

Vanessa Spencer was a beautiful woman, Alaric had to admit that. She was of average height; 5'8" if he had to make a quick guess. She'd had a perfect body, long dark hair, beautiful face and big dark, innocent looking eyes behind her glasses, but Alaric had been in the game long enough to know that you couldn't judge anyone or proclaim anyone innocent or guilty just by their looks.

As she sat in the interrogation room, he stood on the other side, watching her intently. She couldn't see him through the glass, but he was sure she knew she was being watched. She looked worried, but not anxious and shaky, and Alaric had to admit to himself that she had nerves.

He wondered what a woman like her saw in a politician like Christopher Wesley, but acting like he didn't know why she was married to him would just be stupid. Christopher Wesley was a wealthy man, and most women loved men who could spend on them. They didn't care what kind of person he was, as long as he could pay their bills and spend heavily on them. Vanessa Spencer no doubt could be one of those women no matter how innocent she looked. The question now was, if she did kill him or if she was involved in his death in one way or another, then why did she do it? There had to be a motive.

His partner, Paul Forbes, walked into the room and Alaric turned his attention away from Vanessa to stare at him.

"So, do you think she did it?" Paul asked him as he walked in.

"Maybe. I don't know," Alaric replied, "But we won't know anything for sure right now until we talk to her. If she did it, there had to be a motive and we have to find out what it was. So let's get to it."

Vanessa's head whipped up immediately when the door opened. She frowned at the two men. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded angrily. "You have no right to treat me this way,"

"Relax, Mrs Spencer," Paul told her, "We just brought you here for questioning,"

His reply seemed to make her angrier. “Is that so?” she asked, lifting her hands so they could see her still cuffed hands. “Is this how you treat the people you bring in for questioning?”

She yanked off her glasses and glared at Alaric, since he was the one who had put the cuffs on her. He returned her gaze but still he said nothing…Just stared at her. Her eyes were dark, nearly black, but they were less cold without the glass barrier between them and the world. The skin around her eyes was free from wrinkles, and her lashes were thick, incredibly long. He leaned back, his gaze searching her face. She scrunched her nose and still, her skin barely crinkled. With the slight pink flush staining her cheeks, she looked youthful—younger than he imagined her to be before they picked her up. His eyes narrowed.

“I’m very sorry about that, Mrs Spencer,” he said finally, but he didn't look sorry at all. “We are just trying to get answers,”

“And you had to treat me like a criminal to get those answers? My husband is dead, Detective–” she paused.

“Harper–” Alaric completed for her.

“Detective Harper” she continued, “My husband just died, and I didn't even know about it until you showed up on my doorstep. Now, not only did you tell me about this in the worst way possible, you accuse me of being his murderer and bring me to the station like some sort of criminal. You are both going to pay for this!"

Paul Forbes took a seat in front of her, but Alaric didn't. He stood, towering above her while looking as formidable and intimidating as ever.

"You do what you need to do, Mrs Spencer" he replied nonchalantly, "But we're going to get to the bottom of this case whether you like it or not. With or without your help,"

He walked briskly towards her, then leaned forwards to uncuff her hands without staring at her. Vanessa on the other hand paid attention to him. He walked purposely and gracefully, she had to give him that, but he had terrible people skills. He also didn't look like he smiled a lot. She rubbed her ankles as soon as she felt the cuffs come off.

"I'm sorry about that. Do you wrists hurt?" Paul Forbes asked her,

"What do you think?" she replied.

Detective Alaric Harper returned to his place, standing beside his partner's chair, "You talk about how upset you are about your husband's death, but according to what we know, you two have been separated for about a year now," he began, going straight to the point, not caring one bit about her wrists. She hated him.

"Yes, we were separated, but that doesn't mean I wanted him dead!" she replied.

He nodded, "We also know that you filed for divorce weeks ago. Care to tell us the reason for the delay?"

"I did file for divorce, but Christopher wouldn't sign the divorce papers,"

"And why did he refuse to?"