He looks . . . put-together. Clean-shaven, freshly showered, dressed like nothing happened. Like he didn’t rip me apart a few hours ago whilst stinking of whiskey.
“The police are on their way,” he continues, his gaze locked on mine as he rolls up his sleeves. “They want to speak to us about Anika.”
The words stop me in my tracks. “Why?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
“They think her death is suspicious.”
Catherine straightens. “Suspicious? Why would they think that?”
Ray doesn’t look at her. He doesn’t look at anything except me. “Because I went through the CCTV from the last few weeks,” he says slowly. “And it seems Anika’s been having a visitor.”
My heart stutters, then starts racing.Luke.He knows about Luke.Fuck.The air feels too thin and too heavy all at once. I scratch at my collar, pulling it from my neck.
The buzzer sounds, breaking through the silence.
Ray doesn’t move his eyes from mine as he crosses the room and presses the button to let them in.
Before the elevator doors open, Ray closes the distance between us. His hand wraps around my arm, pulling me in so suddenly, my breath catches with surprise.
“Remember something,” he murmurs, his voice low, meant only for me. My heart hammers faster. “I don’t like lies, Wynter.” His fingers tighten slightly, just enough to make the warning sink in. “You’ve just broken my number one rule.”
A chill runs through me.
Then, just as quickly, he lets me go.
Catherine brings in coffee, her movements quieter than usual, like even she can feel the weight pressing down on the room.
We sit in the living room, but no one touches their drink.
“We carried out an urgent post-mortem on Anika,” one of the officers begins, his tone measured and professional. “And the pathologist doesn’t believe she died of natural causes.”
Silence drops heavily between us.
“She had a significant amount of morphine and tramadol in her system,” he continues. “Far more than what’s listed on her patient records.”
My brows pull together in confusion.
“They don’t match?” Catherine asks, her voice tight.
The officer shakes his head. “No. Which means we’re now treating this as suspicious.”
I glance at Ray. He’s showing no emotion, just staring at the officer with a cool, controlled look on his face.
“We’ll need statements from both of you,” the officer adds. “Just to establish a timeline—where you were, what time you returned, and how Anika seemed when you last saw her.”
“Of course,” Ray says smoothly. “Whatever you need.”
His tone is calm. “Should I have the agency carer contact you as well?” he adds.
The officers exchange a look. “We’ve already spoken to the agency you usually use,” one of them says. “They informed us the booking was cancelled.”
Ray’s expression darkens slightly. “Cancelled?”
“Yes. Did the carer give you her name?”
Ray shakes his head once, irritation creeping in. “Maybe. I wasn’t paying attention.”
He pauses, like he’s trying to recall the moment they met, then his jaw tightens. “Wait, I didn’t cancel anything,” he says slowly. The room seems to shrink. “So, who the fuck was the woman in my home, and why was she here if the booking was cancelled?”