The Twiceborn Queen (The Proving Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

travelled across his bandaged arm in its sling before coming to rest on his face.
    He shrugged. “Hospital didn’t seem so appealing any more.”
    “Well, since you’re here, we can take your statement too.” She led us from the reception area to the interview rooms. “If you could go with Detective Franks, Mr Stevens, you can talk to him while I ask Ms O’Connor some questions.”
    Ben followed Detective Franks, and Detective Hartley smiled at Lachie.
    “What about you, young man? Would you like to wait with Constable Eaton here while I talk to your mum?”
    “She’s my auntie, actually.”
    A young woman in uniform offered Lachie a friendly smile. “Would you like a jelly bean?”
    That sealed the deal. Lachie went off with her without a backward glance, while I followed Detective Hartley into the small interview room.
    We faced each other at the table and she pressed the button to start the recording. After she’d recited the standard warnings and asked a few preliminary questions she got stuck straight into it. “How well did you know Amy Johnson?”
    “Not well at all. I’d seen her a couple of times before, when I was visiting Ben.”
    “And how did you get on with her?”
    “Fine. To be honest, I didn’t pay her that much attention.”
    “So you never argued with her? There was no friction between you?”
    “No, nothing like that. I don’t think I ever said more than hello.”
    The guy who’d taken my initial statement at the hospital had asked this too. Was all this checking and double-checking standard procedure, or had Detective Hartley decided something seemed screwy?
    “Please tell me again what happened.”
    “I came back into the room—”
    “Where had you been?”
    She interrupted a lot more than the first guy. No detail too big or too small. Maybe that was how you got to be lead detective on a case.
    “I was going home, but when I got to the car park I couldn’t find my keys. We were coming back to check if I’d dropped them in Ben’s room.” They had been under the bed, against the wall. One of the police officers at the hospital had retrieved them for me.
    “And where was Ms Johnson when you came in?”
    “Standing right next to the bed, holding a pillow over Ben’s face.”
    “What did you do then?”
    “I told my nephew to run to the nurses’ station, and then I tried to stop her.”
    “Did you shut the door?”
    “What?”
    “Did you pause to shut the door before you tried to stop Ms Johnson suffocating Mr Stevens?” She pulled out a notebook and flipped through until she found the page she wanted. Must have belonged to the officer who’d questioned me at the scene. “The two nurses who came to your aid said the door was shut when they arrived.”
    She looked up, an expression of polite interest on her face. I paused. No telling what was going on behind that attentive mask, but I had a feeling she didn’t miss much.
    “I … guess I must have, then. I was probably trying to stop Lachie from seeing what was happening. He’s only ten, you know.” I didn’t actually remember shutting the door, but it was a smart move if you knew you were probably going to use unusual methods of winning a fight. Unless, of course, some detail-obsessed detective decided to take it as an admission of premeditated murder or something.
    She regarded me steadily. “Most people would have stood there and screamed for security. You’re remarkably cool under pressure, Ms O’Connor.”
    It sounded more like an accusation than a compliment. I’d have to try harder to be unremarkable.
    “There wasn’t time to wait for help. I had to do something.”
    “And you’re positive Mr Stevens didn’t know Ms Johnson either before he was admitted to hospital?”
    That was about the fifth time someone had asked me that. Some of my irritation crept into my voice. “Asking me again won’t change my answer, you know.”
    Detective Hartley smiled, a professional expression that didn’t reach