TWENTY THREE

A black Wrangler came to a stop in front of Fabian Williams’ apple green lawn and Amber could make out two plainclothes detectives in the jeep.

Amber was joined by Fabian who stood by her side at the front timber door of his house, she in her white t-shirt and jeans which she had hurriedly put on, and Fabian still in his office suit. The detectives were in the vicinity and told her over the phone that they would just be dropping by for a little chat.

But as she watched them alight the jeep, Amber had to wonder if all they wanted was to truly chat.

She had to struggle to stay calm. Although it was near five in the evening, the sun felt too bright and while there was a slight breeze, the air was extremely suffocating. Amber wanted more than anything to run away from the approaching cops, but she couldn’t. Instead, she stood there helplessly, like a deer caught in headlights.

If Fabian noticed her unease, he made no mention of it. The blonde detective be