“Whatever happens, do not let them see this.” Her face looked pained; the scent of smoke clung to her skin. “Not until you hear from me.” Her lips trembled. She had trouble pronouncing the words, though her meaning was clear.
Tommy nodded, started to slip it under his T-shirt, then thought better of it and passed it to Layla, who frantically shoved it deep in her bag as Larsen fought to muscle inside.
“Don’t mess with me, Redman,” he barked. “If she’s in there, it’s in your best interest to turn her over. I don’t care who you are; you try to keep her from us, we’ll nail you for obstruction of justice.”
Without another word, Ira swung the door wide, allowing a blast of heat and light to shoot into the room. His features sharp, gaze darkened, he seemed to almost fade into the shadows as a swarm of cops overtook Aster.
“What’s this about?” Her eyes darted wildly from Ira to Larsen. “Why are you handcuffing me? I haven’t done anything!”
“Aster Amirpour—” Larsen grinned, seeming to relish each and every word. “You are under arrest for the murder of Madison Brooks.”
Aster’s face drained of color as she bucked hard against the detective, an attempt to break free that was futile at best. “That’s insane! I—”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Larsen continued. “Anything you say can and will be used against you—”
“On what grounds? I had nothing to do with this! What did that creep Ryan Hawthorne tell you?”
“Ryan has a solid alibi.”
“But that’s not possible! I was with him that night—only he left and never returned!”
“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, the court will assign one for you—”
“I was with him! I left the club with Ryan Hawthorne!”
“Ryan Hawthorne left the club with friends and returned to his place with those same friends. The doorman and video footage confirm it. There’s no record of you.”
“But Ryan doesn’t have a doorman!” Aster screamed, recoiling in fear when Larsen thrust his face close to hers, his squinty eyes glinting with the anticipation of what he was about to reveal.
“Witnesses at Night for Night saw you leaving, but not with Ryan Hawthorne. We’ve uncovered the clothes you wore that night, and they’re covered with Madison’s blood.”
Layla gasped, as Tommy instinctively reached for her hand. The two of them watched Aster crumble before them. Her body collapsing, folding in on itself, looking so lost and defeated she bore absolutely no resemblance to the strong, sexy, overconfident girl Tommy had known.
“That’s impossible,” she cried, her voice hoarse, reduced to a whisper. “I had nothing to do with it!” She lifted her chin, gazed around frantically until she found Ira. “Please,” she cried. “Tell them! Call my lawyer and get me out of this!”
Her face lifted with hope as she watched him approach, only to crash in despair when he reached around her and removed the prize-winning check from her fingers.
“For safekeeping,” he said. His gaze impenetrable, he returned it to his pocket. The cops pushed Aster out the door and through the throng of tourists and paparazzi already gathered like vultures, leading her away under the glare of falling ash and flashing lights.