Chapter 344
The officers didn’t buy it and insisted on checking the footage.
To their surprise, just as the manager had claimed, there wasn’t a single useful frame-the cameras had captured nothing at all.
Lyman shook his head. “Next time, don’t waste police resources. Filing false reports is a crime, you know.”
He stood his ground, insisting he hadn’t laid a finger on Mitchell. And even if he had, Mitchell started it.
Mitchell was livid. He’d honestly thought this time he’d finally get justice, but things had turned out the opposite.
“Lyman, do you even have a shred of decency left?” Mitchell ground out, glaring at Lyman with enough intensity to burn holes through him.
Lyman just shrugged. “Not anymore. Lucky for you, you never had any to begin with. Consider it a gift.”
“You-!”
“Officer, if there are no witnesses and no evidence, I’m free to go, right?”
The officer nodded. “You’re free to leave.”
Lyman didn’t waste another moment. He left, Effie following close behind.
Neither of them spared a glance back, while Mitchell stared daggers at their retreating figures.
Not long after, Lyman’s phone buzzed. It was Fenton calling.
He put him on speaker. “Spit it out. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
Fenton snorted. “Well, well, look at you-turning into a deadbeat, huh?”
Lyman genuinely hadn’t expected the news to spread so fast. It had barely happened, and Fenton already knew.
“Reception’s bad here, gotta run,” Lyman replied.
Right then, a woman’s high-pitched giggle drifted through the speaker, so
suggestive that even Lyman felt his ears burn.
“You sound busy,” Lyman said dryly. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
Before Fenton could reply, Lyman hung up.
Fenton kicked the sofa in frustration. “Damn it! Who’s got the bad reception now?
If the signal’s so bad, why could he still hear that?”
He glanced over at Annabel, who was sprawled on the floor in a drunken heap, looking like she’d melted into the carpet.
This woman, he fumed inwardly, was out clubbing every night, drinking herself senseless under the guise of work, never sparing him a thought.
Tonight, she’d barely made it out of the bar before collapsing on the sidewalk, A few unsavory characters had started circling, but luckily, Fenton had found her and brought her home-otherwise, things could’ve gotten ugly.
Suddenly, Annabel’s eyes snapped open. She glanced around blearily, mumbling,
“This place looks familiar…”
Fenton snorted to himself. Of course it did this used to be their love nest.
Then Annabel muttered, “Looks just
like that bastard’s place. Ugh, why am I still dreaming about him? Why can’t dream about someone handsome for once? God, why do I keep seeing that jerk in my dreams?”
Fenton’s temper flared. Who was she calling a jerk? Him? Seriously?
He’d done her a favor, and now he was the bad guy?
If he’d known this would happen, he’d have left her there.
Suddenly, Annabel lurched in his direction. “Hey there, handsome…”
Fenton straightened up, feeling a little pleased. At least she had some taste.
He was about to say something when Annabel suddenly gagged. “Ugh… Why do you look just like my disgusting ex-husband? I think I’m gonna be sick… Ugh…” “Annabel!” Fenton roared, nearly bursting a blood vessel. “Not on my carpet!”
After dry heaving, Annabel finally seemed to settle down, then promptly fell asleep right there on the floor.
…
The next morning, Effie was jolted awake by a shrill ringtone.
She fumbled for her phone, but before she could see who was
calling Lyman snatched it from her,
clearly annoyed. “Who the hell is
calling this early and ruining my
sleep? I’m turning it off.”
Lyman hadn’t slept well and was in a foul mood.
Effie protested, “Wait, I think I saw—”