Free Cropped to Death (Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) by Christina Freeburn Page A

Cheryl stop by to see if you had a layout for our contest?”
    “Faith, this is serious.” He braced his arms on the desktop and leaned forward. “You don’t realize how much trouble you’re about to get into.”
    I knew. I just didn’t really care. Or not care that much. Marilyn needed someone’s help and all she had right now was me.
    Steve sat on the edge of the desk. “Detective Roget isn’t happy with your amateur sleuthing.”
    “He’s going to arrest me?” I peered at the desk and pushed a paperclip around the surface, fighting the emotions wanting released. I wasn’t sure if I’d cry or yell at Steve.
    “He didn’t say anything about arresting you. He just wanted to know if I’d talk to you. Thought you might listen to me.”
    “Why would he think that?” I grimaced after the question left my mouth as the implied meaning registered in my brain. I would listen to Steve’s warning as well as I did the detective’s—not at all.
    “Because he wanted to offer me a professional courtesy before he took certain extreme measures,” Steve said.
    I stared at him, hoping he’d elaborate on the statement without my vocal prodding.
    He stood and looked down at me. I hated when people did that, it was easy enough to look down on me when standing, sitting while someone did made me feel like a child receiving a scolding.
    “Roget has been asking around about you,” Steve said.
    Sweat trickled down my back and I swallowed down my gasp. Roget had no right asking about me. I pressed my hands against my legs, stopping myself from jumping up.  No reason for Steve knowing someone prying into my background was my worst fear.
    “People saw us together, in friendly terms, as Roget put it.”
    “Why wouldn’t you be friendly?” I forced out a smile.
    “Then there’s the fact we live close to each other. A nice, easy arrangement was what the detective called it. Might be the reason you’re getting preferential treatment for interfering in a criminal matter.”
    My cheeks flamed at the assumption the detective made against Steve’s character and mine. Pride mixed in with the embarrassment. It was nice to know others thought I had the ability to hook a guy like Steve.
    “What did you say?” I asked nonchalantly. Part of me needed Steve to respond that he said there was nothing between us, without him being insulted at the assumption. Another part of me wanted him to have told the detective if there was something between us, it was none of his business.
    “I told the detective a man shouldn’t go around ruining a lady’s reputation because he was irritated at her.”
    “Oh.”
    “He then responded you were doing plenty of damage on your own. Like intimidating a witness.”

“That’s not true!” I jumped up and the rolling chair collided into the wall. “I asked a simple question and the woman blew up. She’s lying about why she went with Michael to the art show.”
    “Faith, the investigation doesn’t concern you.”
    I stamped my foot and crossed my arms. Not grown-up behavior, but I had no idea what else to do to release the frustration shooting through my body. “It does concern me, Marilyn is my friend. That Annette chick is hiding something about what happened when Michael died. I need to find out what it is. Marilyn asked for my help and I owe her.”
    Steve narrowed his eyes. “You owe her?”
    “I need to help her.”
    “Stay out of this. You’re only going to help yourself become her roommate.”
    “You don’t understand.”
    “I do.” Steve wrapped his arms around me and rested his head on top of mine.
    “No, you don’t,” I muttered before accepting the comfort he supplied. This was a temporary lapse of judgment not to be repeated. Ever.
    We remained like that for a few minutes before Steve released his hold and took a step back.
    “Please, listen. It’s not your fault. You had to tell the detective what Marilyn said.”
    Heaviness filled my heart. “Then why do I feel so