by Laura Scott
“Just getting in the truck?” He knelt and touched her shoulder.
She winced. “Well, I may have been debating a few moments about coming in for you. I was worried and freaking out.”
“I’m not the one holding my shoulder.” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. It could have been so much worse. “You need it looked at?”
“No, it’s gonna bruise like a peach, though. Was it Benard?”
“No. He’s at his kitchen table. Dead.”
SIX
At the station, Mae handed Colt an interview roster. “Jared’s mom and stepdad are here.” Colt hadn’t seen Karen—Jared’s mom—or Mr. Wilcox in forever. Chance Leeway’s interview would follow.
“McCoy?”
Colt spun and Deputy Cody Weinbeck had his mile-wide grin going. He’d always been a ladies’ man in high school, even when dating Tillie. He’d flirted with Georgia several times—until she wrote the article in the school paper about him. Colt had held Georgia’s heart, and it had never made sense to Colt. How he managed to snag the prettiest girl in school was the greatest mystery he’d ever been tasked with and never solved. He’d been nothing but a loser with a drunk for a father and a mom who’d hightailed it out of town and didn’t even think he’d been worth taking with her.
“Weinbeck,” he said as he gave his hello in a chin nod. “How’s life treating you?”
“Not bad.” He glared at Georgia as if his cheating this time was her fault. Of course, Colt hadn’t asked her if she published it in the Magnolia Gazette. Maybe she had. He bit back a chuckle.
“Cody,” Georgia said with what appeared to be cool composure. “How’s Tillie?”
Colt gripped her forearm with light pressure to let her know now was not the time to go picking new fights. Apparently, goading deputies and old classmates wasn’t a trigger for her anxiety.
Cody ran his tongue across his teeth and flared his nostrils but said nothing. He stalked toward the alcove with the vending machine.
“Why?” Colt asked.
“I tried to help it, Colt. I really did.” She pursed her lips and shrugged.
Mae looked puzzled but remained impassive.
Colt shook his head. “Come on. I’ll show you to our case room.”
Inside, they had access to a two-way mirror that allowed them to look right into the small interview room where Jared’s mom and stepdad sat holding hands and looking optimistic. The team didn’t have much uplifting information to offer, and Colt hated unearthing all that they’d worked to heal from and move past. But did one ever move past loss? Their loved ones would always linger, and the emptiness would always be felt. But a new, strange normal would eventually begin and nudge them into a land of living. That’s how he’d grieved his mother leaving and never calling. Not even on a birthday. Colt was aware she’d moved to Phoenix and worked as an office manager for a heating and air company, but he knew nothing personal about her.
They entered the interview room and hugged in place of shaking hands. These people had been family to Colt and to Georgia. It was deeply personal.
Aging hadn’t agreed with either of the Wilcoxes. Wrinkles and exhaustion backdropped the spark of hope in their eager expressions. He’d seen this exact face on nearly every family member of lost loved ones where no justice or answers had been found. No closure.
Gerald helped Karen back into her chair and eased his belly under the table as he situated himself in the seat with a groan. “Colt. We weren’t sure what to think when we got the call from one of your unit members. Have you found something concrete to bring justice to our boy?” He held on to Karen’s hand like a lifeline, and Karen sniffed. Georgia handed her a tissue from the box on the table.
Something concrete? No. Just a serious gut instinct that the killer had and still did reside in Magnolia. Someone Gerald could have sold a car to and Karen might have even given a haircut—could even be a regular at her salon.
“We’ve reopened the case based on new facts, which is promising. Now we can test the old evidence with new technology. The truth will present itself.”
“New facts? Not concrete evidence?” Karen asked.
“It’s enough to pursue.”
“It better be, Colt. If you’re gonna drag us through this again.” Gerald’s tone demanded they not be put through the wringer again. Karen closed her eyes, and Georgia grasped her free hand.
Colt asked all the same interview questions from fifteen years ago.
Karen was at home. Gerald had worked late at the dealership catching up on invoices and then came home, and he and Karen had made popcorn and watched a movie. They didn’t know who could have killed their son. Jared didn’t seem upset. No one that they knew of had approached him about playing for Ole Magnolia, but Jared had changed his mind two weeks prior to his murder. Then a couple of days before his death, he’d confided in Karen he was going with Mississippi State as originally planned. They were surprised, but it was his choice.
Neither had new information to offer. Colt shared a little about the podcast and the attacks that followed and Georgia’s theory about the illegal recruiting. Colt thanked them for coming and assured them he would not rest until he discovered who’d killed Jared, and Georgia echoed the same promise.
They saw themselves out, and Colt lifted his chin to motion Georgia toward the door. “Here comes trouble,” he grumbled.
Chance Leeway strutted into the room. Time hadn’t aged him. He carried the athletic swagger and had the physique to back it up. Not a fleck of gray in his blond hair. Clean shaven and irritated.
“McCoy,” he said as if it were minutes before a game and he knew he was going to win.
Colt didn’t ask Chance to use Colt’s proper title. Didn’t matter. He was in charge of this meeting whether Chance realized it or not. “Chance. Good to see you. Hate it’s under these circumstances.” He extended his hand for a shake. Chance shook it.
“What exactly are these circumstances? I need to be at the school, not here answering questions that I answered a billion years ago.”
Colt clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Well, according to the reports from those billion years ago, you didn’t say much at all due to a lawyer telling you to remain quiet. I don’t see a lawyer now. You need one?”
“You tell me.” His green eyes hardened.
“You’re being questioned, not arrested, but I can read you your rights if you want me to.” He invited Chance to take a seat with a sweep of his hand.
Chance scowled and plopped in the chair with a thud.
“Well, he’s still a charmer,” Colt murmured.
Georgia hid a smirk and sat beside Colt.
Could he be Georgia’s attacker? Did he poison her dogs? He’d had time to kill Coach Benard, clean up and be here now. They’d spent over an hour with the Wilcoxes.
“Why are you here?” he asked Georgia.
“She’s consulting on the case.” He explained about the podcast and attacks.
Chance didn’t seem too concerned for Georgia’s plight. Didn’t make him a killer. Just a tool.
“Tell me about that Saturday night Jared died. What did you do that evening? Do you remember? I know it’s been a long time, man. I’m not expecting a sharp memory, but something. Jared might not have been your best bud, but he didn’t deserve to die.”
Chance nodded. “I respected his game. For sure. Look, truth is I was angry about the game the night before. Y’all won, but I thought the ref made some biased calls. I said some insulting slurs to Jared—to all y’all. I carried the grudge into Saturday night. After meeting up with some guys at the Dairy Freeze, I called Jared to apologize for the threats I’d made. That’s why my dad secured an attorney for me, because that made me a suspect and he didn’t think anyone would believe I was apologizing. You know he’s also a criminal defense attorney.”
Colt
didn’t believe it now. Chance wasn’t known for saying sorry, and he wasn’t even cordial about being here.
“I appreciate your cooperation. I’m well aware of teenage rage and spouting off hot air. How did Jared respond to your threats prior to your apology? What kind of threats, by the way?”
Chance snorted. “Typical butt-kicking if he crossed my path. I made it clear that I was the better player and everyone knew it. Face it—it was true.”
It was true. Chance had had a better arm, but Jared was definitely scholarship material even without a deal under the table.
“Did you have a problem with the rumors that Jared was going to Ole Magnolia to play first-string QB and on a full ride for them, when you were going, too—with no ride—and were the better player?” Colt asked. “You’d have been playing his second string. I’d be fit to be tied if it were me. Because you’re right, dude. You were the better player, and Jared knew it. Admitted it to me once.”
Chance rubbed his chin and adjusted his ball cap that read Tigers. “I was miffed. Yeah. But not enough to kill him for a place on the team. Besides, he told me that night on the phone he was looking at going to Mississippi State instead. Probably wouldn’t play much, but he wasn’t feeling Ole Magnolia like he was before. I was shocked. He was gonna pick less playing time over all the fame and glory and the possibility of being drafted into the NFL? I told him he was an idiot.”
Maybe Chance wasn’t lying about the apology. He had just reiterated what Jared’s parents had told them. Only Jared could have told him that. Colt leaned back and crossed an ankle over his other knee in a kicked-back, easygoing position. “Did he tell you that after or before you apologized?”
“After. Told me it wasn’t necessary anyway. I was gonna get all the playing time I wanted. Suited me. Why kill him if I was going to get what I wanted anyway? I had no motive.”
Said like a true attorney’s kid.
“How do you and Coach Benard get along?”
Chance grinned. “I like ol’ Benard. He’s old-school, but he listens to me, and quite frankly, he’s been the mentor I never had. I’ve learned a lot about football from him. Why?”
“What do you know about illegal recruiting? Did he say if that went on at Courage High?”
Chance frowned. “It goes on. For sure. But not at Southern High. Benard is a straight arrow, and he wouldn’t do that. Now, I can’t say your boy Flanigan wouldn’t, and I heard he has. Some guys I used to play with suddenly moved into the district to play for Flanigan. Rumors were it had been worth their while, and they did go on to play for Ole Magnolia, but I don’t have proof. I guess ask Benard.”
Chance legitimately appeared not to know Harry Benard was dead, and the fondness in his eyes when talking about him couldn’t be missed. Didn’t mean he wasn’t responsible for Jared’s death or Georgia’s attacks, though. But then why kill Harry? “Was he at the school today?”
“He was first period, then he went home with sinus issues. I canceled his meetings for him.” He leaned forward, his eyes wary. “Why? What’s Harry done, McCoy?”
“I don’t know. We went by there and he’s dead.”
Chance’s face bleached, and his mouth dropped open. “Like a heart attack? ’Cause he’s been popping a bunch of antacids, and I told him he ought to see a doctor.”
“No, he was murdered, and that’s all I can say, as it’s an open investigation.”
Chance sat stupefied, his mouth still hanging open.
“I’m sorry,” Colt said. Georgia offered condolences as well.
“I can’t believe it. Who would kill him?” He glared at Georgia. “Your stupid podcast. What did you say?”
“Let’s leave Georgia out of this. I think it goes back to the night Jared died. But you had an alibi, right?” Did he?
“I was at the Dairy Freeze with Joey March and Ryan Sedgwick.” But he didn’t quite have the same confidence he’d swaggered in with.
“Got it in the files.” He patted the manila folder. “They all said the exact same thing.” And that was where the problem lay. No one said the exact same thing. They were lying to cover Chance’s behind. But why?
What had he done that he needed them to cover for him?
And would they cover for him now?
* * *
Georgia thrummed her fingers on the interview table and rolled Chance Leeway’s conversation around in her head. Colt paced from wall to wall while stroking his scruffy chin with his index finger and thumb.
She didn’t like Chance for Harry Benard’s murder. But she wasn’t so sure he hadn’t played a part in Jared’s death and her attacks. Chance had accused her podcast of causing Harry’s death, and if it had led to his murder, she would always feel guilty for that. She’d never meant harm to anyone, only justice.
Colt paused midway in the small interview room. “I’d like to take a crack at Joey March and Ryan Sedgwick. Their alibis are too tight.”
“I thought so, too. They literally used the same words according the interview notes. Who does that?”
“Collaborating liars.”
“Exactly.” She tossed out her fist, and he crossed the few feet and bumped it. She’d forgotten about their bumps for agreement. One they also used as code to say I love you when people were around. Naturally, it was agreement only. But Colt caught her eye, and remembrance radiated regret and better times in those deep blues. Georgia looked away for fear of being swallowed and drowned by them. Instead, she replaced those thoughts with the case. Focusing on Jared and her own attacks was where her brain and her heart needed to idle.
The team entered the case room, folders and coffee in their hands. Their presence broke the connection bouncing between her and Colt.
“Did you get in touch with Moore Thompson’s or Tyler Burgess’s mom about getting lawyers and setting up a time to come and talk with us?” Colt asked. “And have you discovered who wrote the anonymous letter to Dandy?”
Poppy sipped her coffee and nodded. “The letter was written by a Shalondra Jamison. We talked to her two hours ago. She was angry over her daughter not being able to stick in the district for band, when athletes in the same grade were allowed special circumstances. She says everyone knows this goes on, but no one says anything because it makes the school look good, but she’d had enough.”
Rhett jumped in. “As far as touching base with those students’ parents, Miss Thompson is at work and can’t take personal calls, and Miss Burgess isn’t answering her cell phone. Her employer said she took personal time to go see her mother in Tupelo. Yeah, right.”
She was probably getting out of dodge and hoping this would blow over. It wouldn’t.
“Where does Miss Thompson work?” Colt asked.
“Wilson’s Orchard.”
He glanced at Georgia. “Feel like apple picking?”
“I was just thinking I could make y’all thank-you pies for putting your lives on the line for me.” She winked.
“Don’t joke about pie,” Rhett said with a boyish grin. “Especially apple pie. It’s my favorite.”
The first time Rhett had lightened up. Nice to see. “I never joke about dessert.”
“Then get to picking,” he teased, and Poppy snickered.
“Y’all get some lunch and keep me posted.” Colt led Georgia outside to the truck.
“So,” she said while buckling up, “what do you do for fun in Batesville?”
He laughed as if she’d delivered a great joke. “Fun. Most of my time is spent working or traveling for work. And of late, packing for the move.”
“That’s right,” she murmured. “Atlanta. Are you excited?” The thought of the dangerous and fast-moving traffic sent a nervous flutter in her stomach.
Colt twisted his lips to the side in thought. “I am. It’s an honor to be asked, and I look forward to solving cases and proving they made the righ
t call in hiring me. But I’ll miss small towns and Mississippi. My church. My team. They’re family to me, and you know I haven’t had much experience in that arena.”
Grandma and Grandpa as well as Jared’s parents and even Coach had been more family to him than his own father.
“Have you spoken with your dad since you’ve been in town?”
He heaved a sigh. “No. He only calls if he’s been on a bender and he’s ranting about something that’s my fault or that I can’t fix. I imagine in person it’ll be the same or worse. I have enough to deal with at the moment.”
She hadn’t had parents the majority of her growing up, but she remembered how much they’d loved her. Colt had never had that, and her heart ached for him. “I’m sorry. I rarely see him. Once at the farmer’s market. He was buying corn. He was cordial, but it was small talk.” Even if things couldn’t be made right with his dad, Colt would feel better if he forgave him. She wouldn’t press him, though. It wasn’t her place.
“Subject change,” he said. “Who do you like for Jared’s murder?”
There were so many options. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe we’ll get a break and get an identified print off the watch, which will lead us to something concrete.”
“Spoken like a true detective.” His grin drew a gooey response in her belly.
Physical attraction. She could deal with that. Didn’t mean there was an emotional connection. There couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be. “Armchair detective.”
He chuckled. “Whatever you say, Sherlock. And I know we’re making light—and I get the need to at times to help with the fear and anxiety, but I don’t take your safety lightly, Georgia. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”
Georgia paused, laying a hand on his forearm, the corded muscle doubling the response in her belly, or maybe it was the conviction in his words—a little of both, perhaps. “Thank you for saying that. I know I’m secure with you. My fear and anxiety—they don’t have anything to do with your ability to keep me safe.”
A sliver of relief slid into his eyes, and his shoulders relaxed. “I thought you might be triggered because you don’t feel like I can protect you.” His neck reddened.