Physical Evidence. Debra Webb

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Physical Evidence - Debra  Webb

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      “I don’t think I could handle any food right now.”

      She closed her eyes and he knew she was reliving the scene that had taken place in her hospital room.

      “Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

      Her eyes opened and she looked up at him with a kind of pain that tugged hard at his emotions. “I’d been lying there for what felt like forever trying to remember what went down with…with Deputy Miller.” She shrugged halfheartedly. “Finally, I had to get up. I couldn’t lie there a minute longer.” Hesitating briefly, she frowned. “When I sat up I heard a sound like glass cracking and something hit the pillow right behind me. I guess it was instinct, but I rolled off the bed and onto the floor even before I realized what had actually happened. I knocked the telephone off the table in the process.”

      She stared into her cup for a while as she gathered her courage and began again. “I guess the deputy heard the crash. The door flew open and he rushed in. I tried to warn him to get down, but it happened too fast.” She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. “I tried to stop the bleeding…but I couldn’t.” Tears welled past her lashes and slid down her cheeks. “All I could think to do then was run from the danger.”

      “So you came here?” He worked hard not to be affected by her vulnerability, and at the same time to keep an open mind.

      She nodded. “I was afraid. I didn’t know where else to hide. I knew no one would look for me here. And this was the only other place I remembered besides the hotel.”

      She was right about that first part. No one would have ever looked here. Not even him. She obviously didn’t remember the words that had passed between them in this very room on the night before last, since she felt comfortable coming here. “How can I be sure that you didn’t call out to Deputy Saylor for the shooter to take down so that you could escape?”

      “What?” She pushed out of her chair, sending it scraping across the floor. “Someone tried to kill me!”

      Mitch sat his cup down, watching closely for every nuance of her reaction. He had to play devil’s advocate. Had to see and feel her response. “The second bullet could have been the one that hit your pillow to make it look as if someone was trying to kill you.”

      She braced her hands at her waist. “You can’t believe that. Why would I have come here? Why would I try to help that deputy if I’d wanted him dead? Do you think I would have—?” A gasp stole the rest of what she intended to say as her mind evidently replayed those final moments in the hospital.

      “I’m sorry, Ms. Preston,” Mitch offered, with absolutely no contrition. “But until we solve this case, you’re my prime suspect. Despite the fact that you came here, running only made you look more guilty.”

      She stared directly into his eyes. “I ran because I was afraid. I don’t know why I came to your house,” she said flatly. “And I can’t tell you what happened in that car with Miller.” She flung her arms upward in frustration. “I don’t even know how I got all these bruises. But the one thing I can tell you is that I didn’t kill anyone. I know that.”

      She swayed slightly and had the presence of mind to drop back into her chair before Mitch had to reach for her.

      “All right,” he relented. “Let’s say for the moment that I believe you. How do you propose we go about proving your story? After all, you lied to me about why you were here from the beginning.” She might not remember just yet, but he couldn’t put it out of his head.

      That got her attention. Confusion claimed her features. “I don’t know why I lied to you. But there must have been a reason I held anything back.”

      Incredibly, he believed her. Mitch swore silently. This was nuts. He should just take her back to the hospital this minute and put her under guard in a room with no windows. What the hell was he thinking standing here allowing himself to swallow her story hook, line and sinker?

      But he did. That was the hell of it. He was furious that the Colby Agency had sent her here without coordinating with his office. He was even angrier that she had lied to him and that she seemed determined to make Phillip look bad somehow. But, damned if he didn’t believe, deep in his gut, that she was innocent of any wrongdoing where the murders were concerned.

      Before he opened his mouth and made an even bigger fool of himself, the telephone rang. He crossed the room and snatched up the receiver before the second ring. “Hayden.”

      “Sheriff, you’re not going to believe what me and Willis found in that P.I.’s hotel room.”

      It was Roy. Mitch glanced at the clock. “Roy, I thought everyone had called it a night?”

      “I know,” he crooned. “But I just couldn’t wait till morning to do this. I talked Willis into coming over here with me after the search ended for the night.”

      Mitch studied Alex, who was staring into her coffee cup again as if it held all the answers she needed. “So what’d you find?”

      Roy’s excitement was palpable. “We found a high-powered rifle hidden under the mattress. How much you want to bet it’s the same one that killed Saylor?”

      Chapter Two

      Mitch sat in the darkness of his bedroom staring at the telephone on the table next to the bed. A faint beam from the moon filtered through the curtains silhouetting the table and the items that sat upon it. The digital alarm clock read 12:45 a.m.

      He leaned back in his chair and told himself again that he couldn’t delay making that call any longer. For almost an hour now he’d been sitting here like this, mulling over all that had happened and putting off the inevitable. Roy had called his buddy in ballistics and gotten the promise of a priority test to confirm if the high-powered rifle found in Alex’s hotel room was, in fact, the one used to kill Saylor. They would have their answer some time tomorrow.

      Mitch hadn’t told Roy that he had Alex in custody. What was the point? The search wouldn’t resume until daybreak. That was soon enough to announce the news in Mitch’s opinion, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why he was delaying that call as well. He told himself that it was the right thing to do. First he needed to interrogate Alex further, and he wanted to do that on his own terms.

      She wasn’t up to questioning tonight, that was certain. He hadn’t bothered to tell her about the rifle they’d found either. She might make a run for it in the middle of the night if she thought that new evidence, which made her look even guiltier, had been found. Continuing to behave in a completely unprofessional manner, Mitch had allowed her to finish her coffee and then he’d shown her to his spare room. Fifteen minutes later she’d been sleeping like a baby.

      Opting to keep her whereabouts to himself until morning might not really bother anyone connected with the official search, but not telling Ashton was a whole other can of worms. There would be hell to pay if he didn’t tell Ashton. Whatever the man’s personal claim on Alex, as her attorney he wouldn’t appreciate being made to wait a moment longer than necessary.

      Pushing to his feet, Mitch blew out a weary breath. He padded across the carpeted floor and sat down on the edge of his unmade bed. Until just over one week ago his professional life had been pretty much a breeze, other than the long hours. The worse thing that ever happened was the occasional drunken brawl at one of the college hangouts, or, even more infrequently,

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