Happy Friday, lovelies! Hope you had a fabulous week! If you missed my post earlier this week, The Wrong Brother finally released on Tuesday. Eek! So exciting. I hope you enjoy this week’s flash!

Writing Prompt ~ Not good enough. (Provided by Melissa) Scene #2

Rory followed the woman toward her house, wondering how long this would take. It didn’t take a genius to figure out this woman didn’t kill her boss. Roger Fontain had been bludgeoned to death with a hammer. This woman looked like it killed her just to run around the block. He had seen her run out of her house and followed her a bit before driving back to her house to wait for her.

But he’d do his job like he always did and eliminate her as a suspect with actual evidence and not the way his gut always told him what was up. His captain never liked it when he said his gut told him so. Seriously. The thing spoke up all the time. What else could he say?

Ms. Duncan unlocked her door and stepped inside, grasping the side of the door as he walked in as well. He didn’t miss the way her knuckles looked white, her hand slightly shaking.

So she was nervous. Interesting. He honestly didn’t think she killed her boss, but what could she be nervous about?

Well, okay. He wasn’t exactly a people person. He came off abrupt to—well, everyone. But it’s one of the reasons he liked homicide. Dead people didn’t talk back. And when it came to solving a crime, he didn’t care how he came off to anyone because his main goal was to catch the bad guy. Dealing with actual victims always twisted his stomach the wrong way. Literally to the point he wanted to puke. He couldn’t handle their emotions. Too high strung. Too chaotic. Too emotional. Too many tears. Too much anger.

So, yeah, he loved homicide. His victims never gave him problems.

She closed the door and gave him a weak smile.

“Willow, your alibi? Where is she?”

Her smile wavered.

Great. She was lying to him. There was no Willow. Which meant she didn’t have a solid alibi. For some odd reason, it bugged him. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it bugged him, but it did.

“Oh, there you are, Willow. Come say hi to Detective Walker.”

Rory followed her gaze toward the hallway near a set of stairs that led up to the second level. A black and white cat strolled closer, its tail wagging leisurely.

This was a joke.

It had to be.

He pulled his attention away from the cat, who didn’t come too close—which made him happy—and looked at Ms. Duncan.

“Where’s Willow?”

He’d give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Right here.” She waved at the cat. “Tell the nice detective I was home all night with you. You even woke me up at two am to feed your sorry butt. And you gripe at me for eating too much.”

What in the hell was she talking about? It didn’t matter. This was not how he expected this to go, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Odd. Considering he never faltered in his actions. They were always clear and concise. Quick to decide.

“This is a cat, Ms. Duncan.”

She nodded vigorously. “She’s a sassy one, too. I’m not too surprised she’s ignoring you. She doesn’t like many people, especially men.”

Okay. Maybe he needed to reevaluate and question his own gut. Maybe she did kill her boss. She was clearly not firing on all cylinders right now.

“Not good enough. As sorry as I am she won’t answer my question, I can’t take the word of a cat that you were home all night.”

What the hell?

What did he just say?

He should be laying into her and demanding she tell him where she really was last night. Because this situation was just too odd.

Her bottom lip started to wobble. Then she trembled and went rigid, as if forcing her emotions back. Thank God. The last thing he needed was a weeping—crazy—woman on his hands.

“Look, I was home alone all night. And yes, with my cat, Willow. I did not kill my boss, even though I hated the man.”

Her eyes bulged that she even uttered that. It made him want to chuckle. She had no filter. It was refreshing. Most people put on the best show they could with him. Lied through the teeth like he wouldn’t catch on. He always caught on.

“Why did you hate him?”

She pressed her lips together, as if that would hold back more words.

“Ms. Duncan?” he said softly, something he never did with people. But for some reason—again he didn’t know why—he felt like he needed to tread gently with her.

She shrugged. “He had grabby hands I didn’t appreciate.” She looked away, reaching down to pet her cat on the back.

Another interesting tidbit. Rory wondered how many other women Mr. Fontain might’ve had grabby hands with.

“How grabby?”

Geez. He was even speaking her odd language. What was wrong with him?

Her eyes reconnected with his. “Too…grabby. Do you want a doughnut? I have the best doughnuts.”

Then she walked away with quick steps where he had no choice but to follow.

Meow.

Rory jerked back at the sudden sound.

Meow.

Shaking his head, he walked around the cat, but stopped and looked back it. He refused to believe the cat was actually talking to him.

“I don’t speak cat. Keep your distance.”

But he also wouldn’t be threatened by a cat.

♥♥♥

If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:
Scene 1