Page 112 of Better the Devil

But she’d kept her dad’s release a secret.

There had been a girl spotted just yards from the crime scene.

And if anyone had a reason to want Bosco Maximuke out of the picture, it was the daughter who’d never felt safe when he was around.

‘Where were you the night before last?’ he asked.

She blinked, like she was surprised by the question. Like she was gobsmacked he’d actually asked it.

‘With you at parents’ night,’ she said, once she’d got over the shock. ‘Then I walked back to your house with your dog, after you asked me to.’

‘Before that, I mean. Where were you between school finishing and the time you met us in the hall?’

‘Don’t remember.’

‘You don’t remember? Well, I’m going to need you to try.’

‘Oh, wait!’ Olivia tapped the heel of her hand against her forehead. ‘I was murdering a guy. Sorry, went clean out of my head. I’ve got a lot on.’

Logan sighed. ‘Olivia.’

‘What? That’s what you think, isn’t it?’ she asked, all wide-eyed and exaggerated innocence. ‘That I killed some junkie I was sleeping with, or whatever. That’s what you think I am.’

‘No, I’m just… I need to ask?—’

‘Then ask. Come on. Go for it,’ she insisted. ‘And that wasn’t true, by the way. About killing that guy. I was lying. But then,what more do you expect from me? Not like you can trust me, or believe a word I say.’

She crossed her legs, rested her clasped hands on a knee, then nodded like she was giving him permission to continue.

‘So, go on. What else?’

‘You still haven’t told me where you were,’ Logan reminded her.

‘And I don’t have to. You’re not my dad. I told you where I wasn’t,’ Olivia replied. ‘I wasn’t killing anyone. Or shagging anyone. I think that covers it.’

Logan considered pressing the matter, but she’d only dig her heels in. A different approach was called for.

‘How did you feel when your father contacted you from prison?’

That one caught the girl off guard. She just stared back at him, silenced by the question, or maybe by her visceral reaction to it, which made it all the way to her eyes.

From the mirror beside them, Logan felt sure he heard something. A creaking of a floorboard, maybe. A rustling of a bag.

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Olivia asked, shifting in her chair.

‘Everything,’ Logan told her. ‘Were you happy he was getting out?’

Olivia shrugged, trying to make it look like she didn’t care, and wasn’t really fussed either way.

Logan saw through it immediately.

‘Were you scared?’

Olivia snorted. ‘Of him?’

‘Of what might happen when he got out,’ Logan clarified. ‘Of what might happen to your… existing living arrangements.’

‘Wow. You think I set him up so I could keep living with you? You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?’