to question him before one of his deputies did.
THREE
Megan decided to eat breakfast at Rose’s Café before meeting Luke and the rest of his deputies to begin the search. She wasn’t really hungry, but her brain needed nourishment in order to remain sharp enough to find any clues as to where Liza might have been killed.
The similarities between Liza’s death and the victims of the St. Patrick’s Strangler, as the press had dubbed Paul Sherman, bothered her. She wanted to talk to the sheriff about her suspicions, but he hadn’t been at the office when she’d stopped by on her way back to the café.
Josie was behind the counter again. Megan ordered an omelet for breakfast and then asked Josie if she’d seen the sheriff recently.
“He’s out back, sweetie, talking to his son.”
“His son?” She couldn’t hide her shock. “He’s married?”
“Widowed.” Josie grinned, enjoying the gossip. “His boy runs a little wild, though, if you know what I mean.”
Widowed. Why the tragic news made her feel a mixture of sadness and relief she had no idea. Megan slid off her stool and walked outside, circling the corner of the diner. She stopped abruptly, remaining semi-hidden behind the Dumpster, when she caught a glimpse of Sheriff Luke Torretti facing down his son.
“How long have you been drinking?” Luke asked in a low furious voice.
“What do you care?” The boy was the same one she’d noticed the day before, the tall, lanky kid with the long, dark tangled hair, only today his hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail, partially hidden by the paper hat the boy wore. Dressed in scruffy jeans and a long apron tied around his narrow waist, he looked to be the café dishwasher.
She should leave, go back inside rather than stand here eavesdropping, but investigative instincts she’d thought long dead came to life, preventing her from leaving.
“You’re right, Sam. Why should I care? So what if you go to jail? So what if you’re convicted of strangling Liza Campbell? Why would I care about what happens to you, when you don’t?”
The boy, Sam, blanched, and Megan thought he looked ready to throw up. Maybe it was a hangover from the drinking Luke mentioned or the blunt description of Liza’s death. “Doug will vouch for me. I slept on the floor of his bedroom.”
“And what time was that exactly?” Luke didn’t give his son an inch. “Because from what I’m hearing, you were the last one to see her alive, and your only alibi during the time of Liza’s murder is your best friend Doug.”
“That’s really great, Dad. Thanks a lot.” The familiar sneer was back on Sam’s face. “It’s really nice to know my own father suspects me of killing some stupid chick.”
“Stupid chick?” Luke’s voice had gone dangerously soft. “Is that what you think of her? What’s the matter, Sam? Did she turn you down when you asked her out? Did she look down her nose at you? Make you mad? Did you have a fight? Tell me what happened between the two of you. If you come clean and tell me everything now, it will be better for you in the long run.”
Something in Luke’s tone must have warned Sam not to push it. Instead of hiding behind sarcasm, he responded to his father’s questions. “I didn’t fight with her. I never asked her out. She wouldn’t have gone with me anyway, she’s still hung up on Sean Mathews.”
“Is Sean her boyfriend? Was he with you guys last night?”
Sam shook his head. “No, Sean left two weeks ago to join the army. He’s in basic training down in Kentucky somewhere. Liza was mad he broke up with her.”
“So your story is that Zach, Doug, Teagan and Patrice left first, but you stayed behind a little while longer to talk with Liza. At midnight, you left Liza and went back to Doug’s house. There were six of you at the bonfire and you split a case of beer. After you and Doug went to his house, you sat around and finished off a bottle of Jack Daniels while playing video games.”
“Yeah.” Sam stared down at his feet for a long minute. “That’s what happened. Liza was fine when I left.”
“You let her go home alone?” Luke pressed.
Sam flushed with guilt. “I offered to take her home, but she said she’d be fine. She gave me the impression she wasn’t going straight home. I figured she might be meeting someone else. None of my business what she does in her free time.”
There was a long pause, as Luke digested that information. “How often do you drink?” Luke finally asked.
“Not that often.” The way Sam avoided his father’s gaze made Megan believe he wasn’t being honest.
“And you didn’t bother to come home last night, or to call to let me know you were planning to spend the night at Doug’s.” Luke’s sarcastic tone made her wince in sympathy for Sam, although it sounded as if the kid deserved it. She would have been just as upset if Katie had pulled such a stunt. “And where were Doug’s parents while you were drinking?”
“His parents are divorced. His mom works nights as a nurse at Hope County Hospital.” Sam hunched his shoulders. “This is the first time we got drunk on hard liquor. Normally we just drink a few beers. Doug’s mom is a nice lady, it’s not her fault we were stupid.”
“You’re right about that,” Luke agreed, his tone slightly bitter. “You and Doug were stupid. Really stupid. Drinking isn’t going to help, Sam. Don’t you realize by now that drinking is only going to make things worse?”
A heavy silence fell, and Megan wondered if she should choose that moment to interrupt. But then Luke dismissed his son. “Get back to work. One of the deputies might need to ask you some questions later.”
Sam looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he clamped his mouth shut and spun on his heel, walking back into the back door of the café. Luke turned and saw her, his eyebrows pulling together in a small frown when he realized she’d heard at least a portion of his conversation with his son. “You were right,” he said with a grimace. “He is trouble.”
She bit her lip, a twinge of sympathy making her regret her rash statement. She took several steps, closing the gap between them. “I’m sorry,” she said in a low tone. “I didn’t realize he was your son.”
Luke shrugged. “Not your fault.” His shoulders drooped, as if the interaction with his son had worn him out. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Yes.” She had to pull her thoughts together, having been distracted by the emotionally charged interaction between father and son. “It’s about the murder.”
He lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
She let out a breath in a soft sigh. “I’m sure you noticed the similarity between this most recent murder and the series of strangulations I worked on last year. Specifically, the choice of murder weapon.”
“The hollow-braided rope?” Luke asked.
She nodded. The rope disturbed her. Granted, the previous victims were all killed with a bright orange, brand-new
