“Precisely. Instead of worrying about our dead neighbor, we need to find out what we can about this Maverick punk. I need to meet my daughter’s boyfriend and give him the dad talk.”
“You really don’t think she was involved with Duke?”
“No. But do you know what does concern me?”
Faye shook her head.
“Your certainty that the sweatshirt belonged to Duke.”
She straightened her stance. “It has his company logo — which everyone on the street knows — and his cologne is unique. Nothing strange about that.”
“Isn’t there?”
“How can you suggest such a thing?”
“Because my wife seems to know an awful lot about our next door neighbor. I see the way women look at him. Some men, too.”
Faye sighed. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
“Of course you are.”
Faye put her hands on her hips. “If anyone should be suspicious, it’s me.”
“You?” He struggled to keep his temper under control. “What do you mean?”
“Rose.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “Really?”
“Yes. She was hanging all over you at the party.”
Brad couldn’t deny that, but he needed to in order to prove the truth — that nothing was going on between them. “We were just talking. She was telling me what she’d learned from questioning the neighbors. Which really wasn’t much, by the way. Not a single thing I could give to the cops.”
“People thought you two looked cozy.”
“Who?” he demanded.
“Allison said—”
Brad pulled on his hair. “Allison. Of course! That woman has it out for me, just like I’ve been telling you since she started coming around. Do you think she’d be so friendly to you if Duke hadn’t died next door? She wants gossip, Faye. She doesn’t care about you.”
Her nostrils flared. “You’re jealous that I have a friend. I’ve been leaning on you for so long, now you have competition.”
“Would you listen to yourself?”
“Stop deflecting! People noticed how close you and Rose were the other night.”
“I can’t believe you’d even think that.”
“Really? What about Jessica?”
He stumbled back. “We moved past that a decade ago.”
“So, I’m just supposed to forget?”
“That was our agreement.”
Fire burned in her expression. “I can forgive, but I can’t forget. Not when I see you so close to someone who looks like Rose. It brings everything flooding back.”
He counted silently to ten. “Nothing happened with Jessica. Not even a kiss. Do you happen to remember that?”
“Dr. Trellis called it an emotional affair. That’s not nothing.”
“That shrink blew it way out of proportion. Even so, we managed to move on.”
“Have we, really? You’re not close to Rose?”
“Not remotely.” He laced his fingers through hers and held her gaze. “You’re the only woman for me, Faye. We’ve had our ups and downs — sometimes it seems like more downs than ups — but we’re meant for one another. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. Especially not after Jessica. You have to believe me.”
Faye’s expression softened. “The same holds true for me. There was nothing going on between me and Duke. Ever. It’s only ever been you.”
The look in her eyes told him more than her words had. It was all true. His stance relaxed. “Nothing has changed. We’re all good.”
One side of her mouth curved down slightly. “I think we should see Dr. Trellis again.”
A bolt of rage surged through him, but showing it would only reinforce Faye’s suspicion, so he pushed it down. “Neither of us accused. We questioned. Nothing wrong with that. An unhealthy couple wouldn’t be able to do that.”
“Don’t you remember how much she helped us last time? With your anger and dealing with your dad’s death.”
“There’s a huge difference between needing help to get past my dad’s murder and having a neighbor killed that none of us knew.” He glanced at the time. “We’re both going to be late if we don’t get going. How about we think on this and talk tonight?”
Her eyes lit up. “You’ll consider it?”
He gave a slight nod. “We’ll talk later.”
She squeezed him before heading down the stairs. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
Brad buried his face in his palms. Now on top of everything else he had to deal with, he had to figure out how to convince his wife that the family didn’t need a shrink.
Chapter Twenty
Hadley ducked behind the kid in front of her to hide another yawn. She’d barely gotten four hours of sleep. Then her parents freaking out on her at breakfast — exhausting.
Life would be so much easier if she could tell them what she was really dealing with — a dead boyfriend instead of some stupid made-up one. She needed to find a way to lock her bedroom door to keep Mom and Dad out. She’d never imagined they’d notice the sweatshirt.
“Hadley.” The teacher’s sharp tone pulled her from her thoughts.
“What?”
Mrs. Johnston pointed to the speaker. “You’re needed at the office.”
Several kids snickered and a few made comments about her being in trouble.
Hadley faked a laugh as she stuffed her things into the bag and marched into the hallway. She could be in trouble for all she knew, especially considering how poorly she’d been doing in her classes all week. Maybe this was about her history quiz. She’d bombed that for sure.
What if they weren’t going to let her try out for the next school play? Her heart sank at the thought. She would beg and plead, even offer to do janitorial work. Whatever it took.
When she got to the office, the secretary pointed her to a room. At least it wasn’t the principal’s office. But there was no nameplate on the door, so she didn’t know who was on the other side.
She rapped quickly.
“Come in.”
Her stomach knotted, but she stood tall and held her head high as she entered.
The detective who had come to the play. She sat beside a different cop.
“Thank you for coming, Hadley,” she said. “Have a seat.”
It wasn’t like she had a choice.
Once seated, the detective reintroduced herself and Officer Lang — he looked almost as young as Hadley.
She nodded and waited. Did they know she’d been in Duke’s house the other night? Or had they figured out she was dating him? What if they thought she had killed him? Or were they still looking at Dad?
The silence seemed to creep forever, the second hand on the clock moving in slow motion. “What can I help you with?”
“We’re here about the death of Duke Hill,” said Officer Lang.
“That’s what I figured.” She squeezed her hands together under the table where they couldn’t see. “What can I do?”
Detective Stewart paused before answering. “Tell us about your relationship with the deceased.”
An icy chill smothered her. They knew. “What do you mean?”
Officer Lang leaned forward. “You knew him well enough to be texting him late at night.”
Hadley’s breath hitched. Was that all they had? Texts? Her mind raced to their cover story. “He was tutoring me.”
Detective Stewart scribbled a note. “Do you text all of your tutors after eleven?”
“I hadn’t heard from him,” she said quickly. “I was worried he might not be able to help me before the Super Bowl.”
“Help you?”
“With my singing.”
The two exchanged an unreadable expression.
Her heart sank.
Detective Stewart turned back to her. “He tutored you in singing?”
Hadley nodded. Hopefully, they couldn’t see the beads of sweat forming around her forehead.
; “I wasn’t aware he was a singer.”
She cleared her throat. “He used to coach his sister when they were growing up. When he heard me singing, practicing for my play, he offered to help.”
“Explain.”
“I was in my backyard singing some lines for my play. There was one song, in particular, tripping me up. He popped his head over the fence and offered me a tip. I didn’t really get what he meant since I hadn’t had any formal lessons, so he said he could tutor me.”
They exchanged another look.
Officer Lang rubbed his chin. “There’s one thing that doesn’t make sense to me.”
“What?” Hadley’s heart hammered.
“Why were you so desperate to talk to your tutor after your play was done? His phone showed half a dozen texts from you.”
The room shrunk around her. “I, uh … he was supposed to go to one of my shows. I wanted to know what he thought of my performance.”
“It couldn’t have waited until the next day?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“But you wanted to know right then? It was too hard to wait?” offered Lang.
“Exactly.”
The detective scrawled more notes. “Did the deceased help you with anything else?”
Hadley didn’t like the way she said the word help. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Math? PE? Science?”
“No.”
“You two texted a lot, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Officer Lang stared her down.
“Not more than my friends.”
“So, Duke was a friend?”
“He was my tutor.”
“Do kids usually text their tutors as much as you texted Duke?”
“How would I know?” Irritation rippled through her. “And how is this helping to find the murderer?”
“We’ll ask the questions,” said the detective.
She glanced at the clock again. The bell would ring soon. She’d use that as her excuse to get out of there.
Officer Lang scooted closer to Hadley. “Did Duke have nicknames for all the girls he tutored?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your texts were under Angel Eyes.”
“He, uh, it was just like you said — a nickname.”
“Seems like an awfully personal nickname for a tutor.”
“It was nice. That’s all.”
“You sure?”
She pulled her gaze from his. “Yeah. Can I go now?”
“We have a few more questions.”
Hadley glared at him. “I’m missing an important lecture.”
“We’re almost done.” The detective gave her a plastic smile. “Do you know of anyone who didn’t like Duke?”
“Why would I? It wasn’t like I hung out with him and his friends.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.”
The room was silent so long, she was sure they would finally let her go.
“Did he mention anyone to you?” asked the detective.
“He didn’t.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you should think about it for a moment.”
Heat crept into her cheeks as she pretended to think. “He never said anything to me about that.”
“You were his neighbor. Did you see or hear anything suspicious?”
“I’d tell you if I knew anything that would help. I want whoever killed him to go to jail!”
Another glance exchanged.
Hadley pushed her chair back. “I need to get back to class.”
“We have just a few more questions, then you can go.”
“Fine.”
“Where were you on Friday night between your first and second showing of the play?”
“Wh-what?” Hadley’s mouth went entirely dry.
Detective Stewart tapped the table. “None of your friends recall seeing you for an entire hour. Everyone was eating and getting ready. You weren’t there.”
“Yes, I was.”
The detective’s expression darkened.
Hadley’s hands shook. She hadn’t thought anyone noticed her absence.
Everyone had.
Duke had brought her a boxed meal from their favorite restaurant. And flowers. He’d even gotten his hair cut for her. He couldn’t wait to spend time with her later to celebrate a job well done.
But he’d never responded to her texts.
“Ms. Morris?”
She sat up taller. “I don’t know why nobody remembers me being there. Maybe they were too busy with their own preparations. I know I was.”
“Where were you during that hour?” said Lang.
“I was there!” Hadley refused to let the cops see her crying. But desperation clawed at her. She had to think of something to change the topic. Anything other than this.
“And you—?”
“There were two people at his house Sunday night!”
“What?” The detective was visibly shaken.
“Yeah. I saw them.”
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” demanded Lang.
“I was scared.”
“Who? What did they look like?”
She took a shaky breath. “There was a man and a woman. I didn’t get a good look at them. But they came and left through his front door.”
“Are you sure?” Detective Stewart scribbled notes furiously.
“Yes. I’m next door.”
“Did you tell anyone?” asked Lang.
Hadley shook her head.
“When you see something like that, you need to speak up. That’s the kind of thing we have to know about.”
“Okay. Next time I will.”
The detective turned to the officer. “I hope the doorbell cam still has that footage.”
“Can I go now?” Hadley rose. “I don’t know anything else.”
Officer Lang motioned for her to sit. “We have more questions about the two people you saw. And we still need to know where you were that hour on Friday night.”
“I’m done. I know you can’t hold me without a warrant. I’m also a minor. Pretty sure my parents are supposed to be aware of you interrogating me.”
“Questioning you,” the detective corrected. “And the school can act as a parent, giving us permission.”
“Is that true?”
They both nodded.
Hadley gritted her teeth. They had to be lying. “I have the number of a lawyer my dad gave me. I’m going to call him before I say anything else.”
“You can go. If you think of anything else, give us a call.”
Lang handed her a card.
The bell rang.
Hadley weaved her way through the crowded halls to the bathroom. Got to a stall just in time to empty her stomach. Ignored the girls calling her bulimic.
The police knew she’d been with Duke right before he died.
And she had no way to make them think she hadn’t been with him.
They didn’t have proof, but they knew. They would probably find some proof in the car. Or on him. Aside from eating, they’d made out, and he’d run his hands all through her hair to fix it before she went backstage.
Her DNA had to be all over his car — and him.
It was only a matter of time until they found it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brad flipped through the file waiting in his inbox. His next hit. Again, close to home. Usually, he traveled out of the county — or at least the state — to eliminate his targets. Made it less likely that he’d be recognized.
Now the hits were getting closer to Pine Harbor.
Was Kurt testing him? Brad had made it clear he would never take a job in his hometown.
One more thing to bring up with Kurt, if his boss ever made it back into the office. It was looking more and more doubtful by the day.
“New target?” asked Rose, sitting next to him.
“Yep.” He closed the file. “Is Kurt in?”
<
br /> She scooted closer. “Haven’t seen him.”
“He’s avoiding me.”
“You really think he thinks about any of us enough to bother?”
“That’s a valid point, but in this case, he really is. He promised me help on Saturday. What has he given me? Zilch.”
“I wouldn’t take it personally.” She rested a hand on his leg. “I heard he had a nasty hangover yesterday.”
Brad pushed away from her, causing the chair to squeak against the floor.
Was that a smirk?
Rose inched closer. “How’s the search going for your dad’s killer?”
That gave him pause. He couldn’t recall ever mentioning that to her.
She batted her eyelashes. “Didn’t you say you were getting close?”
Brad knew he hadn’t told her that.
“It must be so frustrating not having answers for so long. It’s been, what, thirty years?”
He stood. “I don’t have time to look into that while the police are eyeing me for my neighbor’s murder.”
“You don’t have to worry about it. Kurt said he’d take care of that.”
“Which means nothing right now.”
She gave him a pouty frown. “He won’t let you down.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Brad shoved his chair against the table.
A key sounded in the back door.
Kurt entered, his hair unusually disheveled.
“Where have you been?” Brad demanded.
“Hello to you, too.”
“The cops are breathing down my throat. Have you seen any of my calls or texts?”
“Of course I have. Stop talking so loudly.”
Anger surged through Brad. “They came here yesterday. The cops.”
Kurt froze.
“If we don’t get them off my back, they’re going to start looking at the company. It’s bad enough the killer used one of our knives.”
“One of ours? Which one?”
“The Valderdorf.”
Kurt swore. “You’d better get them focused somewhere else — and quickly.”
“That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“You should be able to figure this out yourself.”
“What?” Brad exclaimed. “You always help out when we get into pickles with the law.”
“Regarding our jobs.” Kurt cracked his knuckles. “This has nothing to do with us.”
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