by Lara Lacombe
“I’ll do my best.” She glanced into the other room, a determined expression on her face.
Affection rose in his chest, making him want to hug her. She genuinely wanted to help him, which was more than he could say for many of the people connected to this case. He glanced at Paulie and heaved a mental sigh. The man hadn’t been terribly cooperative the first time they’d questioned him; given his defensive posture and sour expression, Micah didn’t think he’d be too forthcoming now.
Still, he had to try.
He left Bea in the observation room and stepped into the hall to find Carson and Brayden already waiting for him. “Did he give you any trouble when you picked him up?”
Brayden shook his head. “Nah. Mouthed off a little, but he had to put on a show for his friends.”
“All right, then. You guys ready?”
“Let’s get to it,” Carson responded.
Micah opened the door to the interrogation room, making Paulie jump. He covered it with a sneer as he watched the three detectives file in. “Three against one? That hardly seems fair.”
“Works for me,” Micah said, trying to keep his tone friendly.
Gains shifted in his seat, his eyes darting from Micah to Carson to Brayden and back again. The man was clearly uncomfortable, which in his case meant he probably had something to hide. Paulie wasn’t one of Red Ridge’s more upstanding citizens; he’d had several brushes with the law over the years. Mostly little stuff like petty theft or public intoxication—never anything that rose to the level of a felony. But Micah had always suspected Paulie’s lack of a serious record was due more to luck than the man’s own behavior.
“So, why am I here?” he asked, breaking the silence. “What’s so important you had to haul me down to the station, instead of just having a friendly chat at the bar?”
Micah and Brayden took the two chairs across from Paulie, while Carson stood in the corner. “We’d like you to recount what you saw the night Bo Gage was murdered.”
Paulie’s face scrunched up. “Recount?”
“Tell us about it,” Brayden clarified. “We want to hear your story again.”
“Oh, is that all?” Gains said, the tension leaving his body as he relaxed into his chair. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”
Micah and Brayden exchanged a look. “What did you think we wanted to talk to you about?” Micah asked innocently.
Paulie flapped his hand, waving off the question. “Nothing. My imagination just gets to working overtime, you know.” His laugh was forced and nervous, and it didn’t fool anyone. Micah made a mental note to keep tabs on Gains once they were done here. If he tried to probe into the man’s business now, he wouldn’t get any answers regarding the Groom Killer case. Since that was his priority, he’d just have to ignore whatever it was Paulie was up to for the time being.
“Tell us what you saw that night,” Carson said, his voice quiet and commanding. Bo Gage, the first victim, was Carson’s half brother. Micah knew it had to be difficult for him to work on this case, but Carson had never once complained about the long hours or the investigative dead ends.
Gains nodded. “Yeah, sure. Well, it’s like I said at the time. I saw a woman running away from the bar around six thirty, six forty-five. Long, curly red hair. Dead ringer for Demi Colton, if you’ll pardon the expression.” He glanced quickly at Carson, then away again.
“Did you hear her speak?” Brayden asked.
Paulie shook his head. “Nah. I wasn’t close enough for that.”
“But you were close enough to see that she had red hair, even though it was getting dark?” Micah said.
Gains shifted in his seat. “Uh...well, uh, yeah. She...” He trailed off, and Micah could practically see the wheels turning in Paulie’s head as he struggled to come up with a plausible explanation. “She ran under a street light and that’s when I noticed her hair color,” he finished triumphantly. “So that’s how I know.”
“I see,” Micah commented. “I don’t suppose you noticed anything else?”
Paulie looked at him blankly. “Like what?”
Micah shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she was wearing perfume?”
“Could be,” Paulie said. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Brayden leaned forward. “You know, Paulie, I have to say your testimony is a little unusual.”
Gains eyed him suspiciously, his guard snapping into place. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“Well, usually when a witness talks to us, their story changes slightly every time they repeat it. Not the main details, but the words they use. They might say ‘the guy was wearing a blue hat’ the first time, and by the tenth time they’re calling it a baseball cap.”
“So?” Paulie’s tone was defensive, and Micah noted a flicker of fear in his eyes. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Every time we’ve talked to you, you’ve used the exact same words in the exact same order,” Brayden said. “Almost like you’ve memorized your statement. I’m just wondering why you would do that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Paulie,” Micah said, careful to keep his voice soothing. “If there’s something you want to tell us, now would be a good time.”
Gains shifted his gaze to Micah. He was looking more and more like a cornered mouse trying to escape a pride of lions. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, and he swiped a hand across his chin. “Like what?”
“Did someone tell you what to say?”
Paulie didn’t respond right away, so Micah pressed a little. “Look, I know times are tough. Maybe someone offered you money to say you saw something that night? It happens. All you had to do was tell us about the redhead by the bar. No big deal, right?”
Gains nodded slowly, looking almost hypnotized. Micah’s heart jumped—he was getting close to the truth, he could feel it. “Is that what happened, Paulie? Did someone tell you what to say?”
Brayden shifted in his chair, causing it to drag across the floor. The sound wasn’t very loud, but it was enough to get Paulie’s attention. He snapped free of his trance and shook his head vigorously. “No. I saw what I saw. No one paid me anything.”
Micah leaned back with a mental sigh. It was obvious Paulie was lying, but unless Gains flipped on whoever had paid him to give a false statement, Micah had no way to prove it.
Paulie crossed his arms, his expression obstinate as he looked from Micah to Brayden. “Can I go now?”
Micah fought the urge to lean across the table and shake the man. “Paulie—” he began, hoping to reconnect. He’d been so close to the truth before. If he could just get Paulie to listen to him again...
Gains shook his head. “I told you everything I know. I don’t have anything new to say.”
No one replied right away, which seemed to fuel Paulie’s determination. “I don’t care how long you keep me here. My story isn’t going to change.”
No kidding, Micah thought sourly. That much was clear.
It was time to lay it all out for the man. “Look, here’s the deal. If you’re lying, you need to tell us. It’s not too late for you to come forward, and we can help you make things right. But if you don’t...” Micah trailed off and shook his head. “If you let this go on much longer, you’re tying my hands. I want to help you, I really do. But you have to help me, too.”
Gains sat stone-faced. “I got nothing to say. Can I go now?”
“Yeah,” Micah said with a sigh. “We’re done here.” He pushed to his feet, sending his chair to the floor with a crash.
Gains flinched as he stood. Micah took one of his cards from his pocket and held it out. Paulie looked at his hand suspiciously. “What’s that?”
Micah summoned his dwindling patience. “My card. In case you remember anything. Or decide you want to talk to me again.” It was a long shot, but maybe once G
ains had had a little time to think, he’d reconsider his lies.
Paulie shook his head. “Nah. I don’t need that. I told you before. I don’t know anything else.”
Micah stepped forward, triggering a small squeak of alarm from Paulie. He tucked the card into the man’s shirt pocket and gave his chest a little tap. “Humor me,” Micah said quietly. He bared his teeth in a fierce grin and felt a spurt of satisfaction as Gains swallowed with an audible gulp.
“C’mon,” Carson said from the corner. “I’ll escort you out.”
Gaines nodded and moved to follow Carson. But he kept his eyes on Micah the whole time, as if to assure himself that Micah wasn’t going to follow him.
Maybe that’s the way to get through to him, Micah mused. If he fears me more than the person who paid him, I might be able to get a name out of him.
As a general rule, Micah didn’t like to use fear as a weapon. But in this case, he was willing to make an exception...
“I’m so sorry.”
He turned to find Brayden staring at the table, his shoulders slumped.
“Don’t worry about it,” Micah said kindly. He was disappointed in the outcome of the interview, but taking his frustration out on Brayden wasn’t going to help.
Brayden glanced up. “I shouldn’t have moved. You had him. He was about to talk.” He shook his head, and for a second, Micah was afraid his friend was going to be sick.
“It’s okay,” Micah said, faking a confidence he didn’t feel. “We’ll get him again. He just needs some time to think things over.”
“You think?” There was a note of hope in Brayden’s voice that Micah couldn’t bear to squash.
“Yeah,” he said. “In the meantime, why don’t you make Gains your pet project? Really dig into his past and his contacts. See if you can come up with a list of possible suspects who would have a reason to pay him to lie about what he saw.”
“Done,” Brayden said. He straightened, a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’ll make this right.”
Micah smiled. “I know you will.” He could have investigated Paulie himself, but he knew asking Brayden to do it was the better choice. Micah didn’t hold it against him, but he knew his friend felt bad about his mistake during the interview. Digging into Paulie’s business was his opportunity to earn a little redemption and hopefully restore his confidence.
Micah was no stranger to guilt and self-recrimination. He’d spent months after the ambush nearly paralyzed with indecision, second-guessing his every choice, no matter how small or insignificant. And while Brayden’s mistake hadn’t cost any lives, Micah knew that once the seed of doubt had sprouted, it grew quickly.
A soft knock on the doorframe pulled him out of his head. Bea stood in the hall, looking hesitant.
“Can I come in? I figured since he was gone it was okay for me to move, but if this is a bad time...” She trailed off, glancing from Micah to Brayden.
“No, it’s fine.” Micah gestured for her to join them. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone that long. Sorry.”
She shrugged. “It’s fine. I know you’re busy.”
“Well, that was a colossal waste of time,” Carson said sourly as he walked in. “I thought you had him there for a minute, but then—” He broke off, as if suddenly realizing Brayden was still in the room.
A flush of color climbed up Brayden’s neck, but he didn’t respond.
“We gave him something to think about,” Micah said, trying to salvage the conversation. He turned to Bea. “I don’t suppose you remembered anything new?”
She shook her head, her expression apologetic. “No. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s pretty clear Gains is lying, so I wouldn’t expect his statement to shed any light on your attack.”
“What happens now?” she asked.
Micah sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Now I start looking at our victim, Joey McBurn. Hopefully we can figure out how he wound up in the crosshairs of the killer.”
“Let me know if you need help,” Carson said. “I’m still chasing down leads from Bo’s murder, but since these cases seem to be connected I’m happy to share what I know if you think it will help.”
“Thanks,” Micah said, appreciating the offer. The squad had a weekly meeting where everyone briefed the team about each case, but it wouldn’t hurt to pick Carson’s brain.
“Let’s get back to it,” he said, glancing around the room. Carson and Brayden nodded, and they all filed back into the hall, headed to the main bullpen and their respective desks.
Three grooms had been killed in as many months. And now the killer was targeting witnesses. That kind of escalation wasn’t a good sign, and the pressure for answers was mounting.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. Could he solve this case before someone else died? Or had the Groom Killer already selected the next victim?
Chapter 10
It was late afternoon when Micah finally pushed back from his desk. “I can’t stare at this screen any longer,” he announced, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I need to get outside.”
“That sounds good to me,” Bea replied. While Micah had been working, she’d been going over the accounts for the boutique. There was far too much red on the screen for her liking, and while she knew closing her laptop wasn’t going to make her business problems go away, a distraction would be nice right about now.
“I need to take Chunk for a long walk,” he said. “I can leave you here at the station and pick you up later, if you like.”
“Actually, can I go with you?” In all the chaos of the past few days, she hadn’t been to the gym. It would feel good to stretch her legs and breathe fresh air. And maybe she and Micah could talk about what had happened between them last night...
Micah shrugged. “Works for me.” He stood and Chunk lifted his head from the bed, his expression hopeful. “Let’s go, buddy.”
Half an hour later, Micah and Bea had both changed into T-shirts and sneakers. The three of them stepped off the porch, Chunk tugging eagerly at the leash as they walked. The dog wagged his tail happily, sniffing industriously at everything they passed.
“He seems to be enjoying himself,” Bea said.
Micah smiled indulgently as he looked at the dog. “Yeah. I usually walk him every day, but our schedule has been a little off lately.”
There was no censure in his voice, but Bea felt her face flush nonetheless. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said easily. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
They walked in silence for a few moments. The sun was warm on Bea’s shoulders, and she felt the tension draining from her muscles as she moved. Their pace was steady but not strenuous—they couldn’t walk too quickly, since Chunk had a tendency to stop every few feet for a more thorough investigation of some interesting bush or clump of flowers. Micah tolerated these delays with patience, letting the dog sniff his fill before urging him to move on.
She studied Micah, trying to determine if it was a good time to bring up last night’s kiss. He seemed relaxed, much happier than he’d been before they’d left the station. Now was probably as good a time as any to start the conversation; if she put it off much longer, she might lose her nerve.
Butterflies filled her stomach as she gathered her courage. She took a deep breath, searching for the right words to say—she wanted to open this discussion on a good note so she didn’t make him immediately uncomfortable. If Micah shut down, she’d never get any answers.
“So...” She trailed off, feeling foolish. Then she shook her head. Just go for it. “What happened last night?”
If Micah was surprised by her question, he didn’t show it. “I kissed you.”
Oh, is that all? His tone was casual, as if he did that sort of thing all the time. A kernel of doubt manifested in her mind. Maybe the kis
s hadn’t affected him as much as it had her...
“Yeah, I noticed that.” She tried to keep her voice light. If Micah didn’t think the kiss had meant anything, she wasn’t going to clue him in on her feelings. She wasn’t in the mood to get her heart broken again, thank you very much.
Micah cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about that. I let my emotions take control, and I shouldn’t have.”
Her heart lifted at his words. If he had emotions where she was concerned, perhaps he wasn’t so unaffected after all. “I’m not upset.”
A muscle in his jaw tightened. “I am,” he muttered.
Bea’s frustration mounted. This wasn’t going well at all. She hadn’t meant to make Micah feel bad—she’d simply wanted to talk now that they were both calm. She took a deep breath and tried again. “I meant what I said last night. I miss you.”
He was silent a moment, the only sounds the crunch of their footsteps on the grassy trail and the chuffs from Chunk as he explored the terrain. When it became clear he wasn’t going to answer her right away, her exasperation overcame her patience. “Do you feel the same way about me?”
“Does it matter?” he said.
“Yes. It matters to me.”
“All right. Then, yes, I do miss you.” He huffed out a sigh. “Are you happy now?”
Part of her did rejoice to hear her feelings were reciprocated. But she didn’t understand why Micah seemed so bothered by his admission. She had confessed her feelings first, laying the groundwork for him to do the same. He didn’t have to fear her rejection, so why was he so upset?
“It doesn’t sound like you’re happy,” she said. “What’s going on?”
Chunk stopped to explore a rather large bush and Micah turned to face her. His green eyes flashed with emotion—anger? Sadness? She couldn’t be sure.
“What is it you want from me, Bea?” he asked. “Isn’t it enough to know I never stopped thinking about you? Do you want me on my knees—will that satisfy you?”
His outburst stunned her. Where was this reaction coming from? She hadn’t asked him to break up with her, and she certainly wasn’t asking him to grovel for her forgiveness. Although the idea was a bit tempting, in light of his current response...