anyone do that if that wasn’t their job? She couldn’t fathom it. But she couldn’t deny the warmth layering upon her fear. The people she’d worked with had protected her. There was no way for her to ever repay them.
“How long before the police arrived?” Alex asked.
She bit her lip. “I didn’t see any police.”
“Surely someone would have reported hearing a gunshot,” Chase stated.
She cocked her head, trying to recall more of that night. “It’s strange. I don’t remember hearing the gun go off.”
“The weapon could have had a noise suppressor like the guy today,” Chase told her. “But even those make a sound that would have likely echoed through the alley.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She’d been frightened, her heart pounding so loud in her ears and her breathing labored from terror.
“What did you hear?” Chase pressed.
“I—I don’t recall.” She searched her mind, desperate to dredge up some answer, but there was nothing, just the looping images and the residual fear. “It was a year and a half ago. But I know what I saw.”
“Are you sure it was Sokolov who fired the fatal shot?” Alex asked, as he parked the vehicle in front of the sheriff’s station, a brick two-story structure that had been rebuilt after a fire last year.
Ashley couldn’t see any signs of the damage done by the blaze. The image of The Matador flittered through her thoughts and grief over what was lost twisted in her chest. “Yes.” There was no doubt in her mind about Mr. Sokolov’s guilt.
Alex twisted in his seat to study her. “Did the other guy have a weapon?”
She shook her head, embarrassed for not knowing the answer. “Not that I noticed.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Chase asked. “That would have been the best course of action.”
Stung by his words and the fact that she hadn’t done the best course of action, she tried to explain. “I wanted to. Once the shock of it all wore off, my first instinct was to run to the nearest police station.” Her lips twisted. “But Gregor... He said I couldn’t trust the police. Mr. Sokolov owned too many of them. Gregor said I couldn’t trust anyone.”
“But you trusted Gregor,” Chase pointed out.
Ashley detected a hint of complaint in his voice. “I did. He was my friend and had helped me. But he couldn’t protect me long-term. Mr. Sokolov was cruel. Gregor had a scar on his face given to him by Mr. Sokolov when he’d let one of the waiters leave early because his child was sick. Everyone was afraid of Mr. Sokolov.”
“Why did any of you stay there?” Alex asked, his gaze genuinely puzzled.
She shrugged. “He paid well.” She focused back at Chase, taking comfort in his attention. “And when Mr. Sokolov wasn’t around, it was a great place to work.”
Chase’s gaze intensified. “Then why run?”
Her chin dropped a fraction. “Gregor said my only option to stay alive was to run, keep moving and never look back. Mr. Sokolov would kill me and everyone I loved.”
A scowl dipped Chase’s eyebrows together as if he didn’t like what she’d said. Neither did she. Being on the run, looking over her shoulder, constantly afraid had wreaked havoc with her mind.
“How did you survive this last year and a half?” Chase asked.
“Gregor gave me some cash, and the identification of a woman my approximate age and height and put me on a bus for New Mexico.” Those first few days were beyond stressful.
His gaze narrowed. He slid his hands from hers. “Wait, are you telling me you’re not Jane Thompson?”
The moment she’d dreaded had arrived. It was said that the truth will set you free, but she had a sickening quiver in the pit of her stomach that, in this case, the truth would condemn her. Would he still want to help her, knowing she’d deceived him and everyone else?
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