even try to sway a someone’s memory.
“You should go home, get some rest,” Joplin said to Elise, sounding not only calmer but chastised, as well. “I can drive you there.”
She motioned to Colt, or rather in his general vicinity. “I need to give a statement about what happened. That could take a while.”
“Then, I can drive her home,” Colt offered.
That earned him another huff from Joplin, but he didn’t say a word to Colt. Instead, Joplin looked at Elise. “Call me when you’re done, and no matter what time you finish, I’ll come and get you.”
She shrugged. Then nodded eventually. Colt was betting dollars to donuts that she wouldn’t call. Nope. She was riled at both of them and would figure out her own way to get home.
Joplin picked up his briefcase and shot Colt one last warning look before he headed out.
“You actually told that jerk I was following you?” Colt asked.
That brought her gaze snapping back to his. “Because I honestly thought you were.”
But the snapping and the fiery eyes didn’t last. With a weary sigh leaving her mouth, she sank back down into the chair and buried her face in her hands.
Winced again, too, when she touched the stitches.
Colt didn’t ask her about the pain this time, but he snatched up the phone, called the medic who’d just left and insisted that he bring some meds over for her right away. The hospital was just a few blocks up, so it wouldn’t take long for him to arrive. She might need those meds just to get her statement done.
“What’s going on between Joplin and you?” Colt came out and asked. “And don’t say it’s nothing because I detected more than a hair’s worth of tension between you two.”
A huff, but again no fire. “Sometimes I get the feeling that he’d like for me to say more.”
Colt did a mental double take. “More?”
“He wants me to go through hypnosis to see if I can recall more details about Roy.” Her gaze came back to his. “Like maybe blood on his clothes or looking disheveled, as if he’d just been in a fight with Whitt.”
The sound that Colt made started out as a groan but got much louder. “This is a witch hunt. The only DNA found in that room was my mother’s, along with a whole boatload of Whitt’s blood.”
“But your father was there the day Whitt went missing,” she mumbled.
“So says you.”
“Have you actually asked your father if he was there?” Elise challenged.
“No. I don’t have to. If he’d killed Whitt, he would have owned up to it. He wouldn’t have run. He darn sure wouldn’t have abandoned his family.”
But his father had admitted being more than just drunk that day and having some gaps in his memory. Of course, he’d just learned about his wife having an affair. And not just any ol’ affair but with his sworn enemy. A man who’d been a thorn in his dad’s side since they were young boys.
Colt went closer to her so she wouldn’t miss a word. “If my father had killed Whitt, he would have almost certainly gotten blood on him. And when he sobered up, he would have seen it and gone to the sheriff.”
He paused. “Have you actually asked Jewell about this?” Colt threw right back in her face.
The breath she took was thin and long. “Yes.”
“And what did she say?” But he had to ask that through clenched teeth.
Elise made him wait several long moments before she answered. “Nothing.”
Which sounded like a boatload of guilt to him. Innocent people usually spoke up to defend themselves.
Something Jewell had yet to do.
In fact, from all accounts, she wasn’t even cooperating with her own attorney. Hadn’t even hired him. Joplin had volunteered pro bono and had refused to back off even when Jewell had asked him to.
Because Elise and he were in the middle of an intense staring match, Colt nearly jumped out of his skin when the sound shot through the room. Elise gasped.
But it was only the phone.
Talk about losing focus.
“It’s me,” Reed said the moment that Colt answered. “The Rangers got an immediate hit on Gambil’s prints.”
That got his attention. Because that usually meant the prints were in AFIS, the national fingerprint database. “Gambil had a criminal record?”
“Oh, yeah. His real name is Simon Martinelli, and I just talked to one of our criminal informants about him.” Reed paused, cursed. “Martinelli wasn’t in town to scare Elise.”
Mercy. There went the bristly feeling down his spine again. “Then why the devil was he here?”
“Because Martinelli’s a hit man,” Reed answered “He was sent here to kill Elise.”
“You know that I’m staying here with you tonight, right,” Colt said when he pulled to a stop in front of her house.
Elise was certain that wasn’t a question, and she wanted to insist that she didn’t need a babysitter.
But she was afraid he’d disagree.
Because someone wanted her dead. Had even sent someone to end her life. And that someone had nearly succeeded.
She’d hoped the bone-deep exhaustion would tamp down the fear. It didn’t. She was feeling both fear and fatigue, and that wasn’t a good mix.
Nor was having Colt around.
However, the alternative was her being alone in her house that was miles from town or her nearest neighbor. And for just the rest of the night, she wasn’t ready for the alone part. In the morning, though, she would have to do something to remedy it. Something that didn’t include Colt and her under the same roof.
For now, that’s exactly what was about to happen.
They got out of his truck, the sleet still spitting at them, and the air so cold that it burned her lungs with each breath she took. Elise’s hands were still shaking, and when she tried to unlock the front door of her house, she dropped her keys, the metal clattering onto the weathered wood porch. Colt reached for them at the same time she did, and their heads ended up colliding.
Right on her stitches.
The pain shot through her, and even though Elise tried to choke back the groan, she didn’t quite succeed.
“Sorry.” Colt cursed and snatched the
