CHAPTER EIGHT
Dakota stood in the stairwell of the precinct, one hand clenched, resisting the urge to slam it against the wall. She inhaled shakily, trying to calm herself. The stairwell smelled of mildew and sweat, and the faint murmur of voices drifted from the hall adjacent to the landing above her.
Hinges creaked, and she felt a faint gust of stale air as the door behind her opened and closed again.
She looked over, attentive all at once. Her hand still clenched at her side, and she felt the way her knuckles strained beneath the skin. “So?” she said. “What did you find?”
Marcus crossed his arms, one hand holding his phone. “Alibi checks out. His aunt and uncle confirm, but we also caught that Hellcat of his on a parking lot camera about thirty minutes from the crime scene at the es
