Gotcha! by Christie Craig

frame, wide shoulders, and long legs made the chair look smaller. She figured him to be taller than her ex’s six feet. Baldwin probably weighed in around—she appraised his flat stomach, the snug fit of his jeans—maybe 210.
    She stopped appreciating the man’s form as her gaze found his eyes, eyes that seemed to find her survey amusing.
    “I’m tired,” she said. She wished he’d leave. She was feeling antsy, and the feeling grew as he glanced around the room.
    “Where’s your phone?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder.
    She fought the tightness in her voice. “Use your own.”
    “Where’s your phone ?”
    She debated whether or not to lie, but she knew when she was beaten. Well, she almost knew. Throwing in the towel had never been easy. “Can’t you just call the FBI?”
    “Where is it, Macy?”
    Something about the way he said her name made her even more eager to see him gone. Accepting defeat, she yanked her purse off the end table.
    He stood and eyed the machine’s flashing red light. “Did you really think I wouldn’t ask?”
    She shrugged. “Actually, I did.”
    “And your cell phone?” He pointed to her purse.
    “Dead. Out of minutes. Out of money.”
    “Convenient,” he said as if he didn’t believe her.
    She pulled the phone from her purse and tossed it at him.
    He caught it. Eyeing her suspiciously, he opened it, pushed a few buttons, and tossed it back at her. Then his gaze went back to the blinking red light on her answering machine.
    His face was like granite. “Before I listen to this, is there anything you’d like to tell me? I’ll say you gave the information voluntarily.”
    “Voluntarily?” She stiffened under his scrutiny. “I don’t know where Billy is or who’s on the machine. I’m not guilty of anything but loving my brother.”
    He settled down on the couch, between her and the recorder. She scooted over, away from his body warmth. She expected him to hit the play button, but instead he shouldered back in the sofa and watched her squirm.
    “Why were you at Ellie Chandler’s tonight?”
    “I went to talk to her, but I didn’t know Billy had escaped. I went to see him today. He begged me to go see Ellie. And…I told all this to the FBI.”
    “Where were you the rest of the afternoon?”
    “I had a five-thirty shift. I went straight to work. It wasn’t until I left Ellie’s that I heard about the prison break. My mom had called me several times tonight at work, and that’s probably her on the answering machine. I didn’t call her back, and when I heard—” Emotion crowded her throat. “When I heard about the inmate who was killed, I thought it was Billy.”
    “Why would you assume that? Did he tell you he was going to try to escape? Ask for help?” Suspicion thickened the policeman’s tone.
    “No! He told me that another inmate wanted him dead. He said that the guards were afraid of this David Tanks person. He said Tanks has people on the outside who do things for the guards, and—”
    “What kind of things?” the cop interrupted.
    Macy shrugged “He didn’t say. And then Ellie said—”
    “You talked to Ellie?” Baldwin leaned forward. “When did you talk to her?”
    “I haven’t actually spoken with her. When I came home today, she’d left a message on my recorder.”
    “I thought you went straight to work.” Suspicion again tightened his voice.
    “I came home to get my money bag. After I went to the library.”
    He nodded, but she couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. “What did Ellie say?”
    “She said she was afraid Tanks was going to do something.”
    Sergeant Baldwin’s eyebrows pinched together. “Did it occur to you to come to the police with the information?”
    “I might have, if Ellie hadn’t already tried, but she said some cop was too busy staring at her boobs to listen. You wouldn’t happen to know that jerk, would you? Someone named Jake something?”
    She could swear he flinched, but he didn’t comment.