Russell’s most recent bank statements are in there. Never knew before the lady was richer than Midas, so we’ve got our motive.”
Wade had spent more than an hour with the lady, and he’d come away with the impression that she lived comfortably. If she was wealthy, she wouldn’t be the first person he’d met who lived far more simply than their bank account permitted. He did understand where Egan’s thinking had headed; however, as he turned to look out the door and across the hall where he could see Megan. “You think she’s after Mrs. Russell’s money and killed the grandson to get it?”
Egan nodded. “We’ve got to start somewhere, and that motive makes sense. That young lady drives a Lexus RX, has a pot full of money in savings, and a job that wouldn’t appear to support having either one. I figure the vic was onto something. She makes friends with these old people, gets in their good graces, and steals from them while everyone is smiling. She killed the grandson to squash his accusation.”
“Got any evidence to support that theory?” Wade asked.
“That’s why I’ve got you, Detective. To find it.”
Wade stared at his boss a long moment, remembering all the other times he’d been pressured to button up a case and get the public settled down. Too well, he knew the cost of putting the wrong person in jail.
Wade stepped into the office and closed the door. “Since this is the first major case we’re on together,” he said, setting the papers on the corner of the desk, “a reminder about how I work. I follow the evidence where it leads me, not where anyone with an agenda wants it to go. If it proves a theory, fine. If it doesn’t, fine.”
“I get your drift.” Egan pointed at the glass door of his office, through which there was a view of the conference room door across the hall. “Call her a person of interest or a suspect or a witness. But in my book, she’s at the top of the most-likely list even if you don’t buy into my theory. In those papers is the preliminary criminal report I’ve pulled on her, along with her credit report.”
“Have you read it yet?”
The chief shook his head. “Nope. I’ve been fielding phone calls from everyone in town from the mayor to the editor of the Gazette.” With that, he once more propped his feet on the credenza, turning his back on Wade. “When you talk to her, I suggest you go in armed with the facts.”
“You said something about a couple of interesting phone calls. Johansen and who else?”
“A guy who didn’t want to leave his name, but who says he knows for sure that Megan Burke held a grudge against Robby Russell.”
“He didn’t leave his name,” Wade repeated flatly.
“No. Caller ID was blocked, but we’ve got the phone company on it. I’ll be sure to let you know when we hear something.”
Wade nodded.
“Close the door behind you,” the chief instructed as Wade left the room.
He discovered the door to the conference room was locked when he tried the knob. Nothing like making a witness even more nervous by locking her up, Wade thought. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open.
“Sorry you’ve had to wait all this time,” he said, meaning it. This close, he could see her expression was drawn, her eyes red-rimmed. “Is there anything I can get for you? Coffee, something to eat?”
She shook her head, brushing her hair away from her face. He remembered her hair had been in a ponytail this morning. Now it fell to her shoulders, softly curling around her neck.
“The ladies’ room is back there. I’ve got one thing to do, which should take me no more than ten minutes.”
She nodded her understanding, stood, and came toward him. Despite her height, she seemed fragile as she slipped past him, heading for the restroom. The urge to protect her overwhelmed him for a moment—and then he looked down at the papers in his hand.
Sitting down, he scanned Egan’s notes and the record Caroline had printed. Megan was originally from New Jersey and evidently had come to Colorado to go to graduate school. She had worked as a physical therapist for several years in Denver at a rehab clinic affiliated with Denver General Hospital. Three years ago, she had moved here.
Three things stood out, and they were biggies. First, she had close to two hundred thousand dollars in savings—a lot of money for anyone, but a huge amount for someone on her wages. Second, she had changed her last name from Norris to Burke shortly after turning twenty-one. And third, she had been arrested and charged with assault and attempted murder.
He closed the file and stared down the hallway that led to the restrooms. He had been so sure she was one of the innocent ones. That, after telling Egan he didn’t make assumptions.
Expelling a harsh breath of irritation at himself, he put everything inside a folder and waited for her return. One minute turned into two, and with each passing one, his level of irritation with himself and her grew. When she finally came down the hallway, the five minutes had felt like an hour. Her hair was once more in a ponytail, her expression more composed than it had been a few minutes earlier. He followed her into the conference room. She sat down, folding her hands neatly on the table, her gaze not quite meeting his. For some reason, that pierced his control.
He let the door slam behind him when he came into the room. She jumped slightly, but nothing in her expression changed when he sat down across from her.
“Tell me about Megan Norris,” he said. “Tell me about your arrest.”
She blinked, then something in her expression dissolved. There was simply no other word for it. In a matter seconds, color drained out of her face, leaving a white line around her mouth and making the freckles sprinkled over her nose stand out. She stared at him without speaking, but the expression in her eyes was so devastated that he imagined he was looking at a person in shock. He’d interviewed enough witnesses, suspects and victims over the last fifteen years to know when a reaction was faked, and when one wasn’t. This was as real as it got.
The tug of sympathy pulled at his chest once more while he reminded himself he had a job to do. Collect the facts, build a case. Forget that he wanted to like this woman. That he already did like her.
“Did you read the whole report?” she asked, her voice surprisingly calm. “Or did you simply stop when you saw that I had been arrested?”
The fact that she seemed to know that further irritated him. “I want you to tell me about it.”
She lifted her chin slightly. “We don’t always get what we want, Detective. If you want the story…” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed, all the time holding his gaze as though he had somehow betrayed her. “Read the rest of the report.”
“And then you’ll talk to me about it.”
She nodded, the reluctance in the gesture as obvious as her tightly clasped hands.
“Fair enough. Tell me about your relationship with Mrs. Russell,” he said.
She did, her color improving little by little. They were neighbors and friends. Everything she told him echoed what Helen Russell had told him when they had talked. Mrs. Russell had described how Megan watched out for her, shoveling the snow in winter, taking her to church and the grocery store.
