style="font-size:15px;"> Emotions clogged Harrison’s throat at the hurt in his mother’s voice. Her screams the night Chrissy went missing echoed in his head, resurrecting guilt and anguish.
How could he interrogate his own mother after what he’d put her through?
She squeezed Brayden’s hand. “It’s all right, Brayden. Actually I don’t mind answering. I was home all night.”
Brayden’s eyes went dark. “Was anyone here with you, Mother? Anyone who can corroborate your story?”
She stiffened. “It’s not a story, it’s the truth. And no one was here. I had one of my migraines so I took a pill and went to bed early.”
“How about phone calls?” Harrison asked.
She sighed. “Like I said, I took a pill and went to bed early. If the phone rang, I didn’t hear it.”
Harrison raked a hand through his hair. Dammit, he wanted her to have a rock-solid alibi.
“I’m not the only one who disliked Waylon Granger,” his mother said.
“But no one else had a motive to kill him,” Harrison pointed out.
“Harrison,” Lucas cut in, his voice hard. “You’re not accusing Mom of murder, are you?”
Harrison folded his arms. “No, but it’s my job to ask questions and find out the truth.”
“The truth is that the town is better off without that lowlife in it,” his mother said curtly.
“We have no proof that he hurt anyone,” Harrison said, testing the waters to see if one of his family members mentioned the ribbon.
“He hurt his own daughter,” Dexter said. “Everyone in Tumbleweed knew that but no one did anything to help her.”
Dexter was right. Someone should have stepped in and protected Honey.
“That girl wasn’t worth saving,” his mother said. “She was white trash just like her mama.”
“She was only a kid.” A trace of bitterness laced his voice. “She never did anything wrong.”
“My God, you’re defending her.” His mother gave him a lethal look. “She probably lied about that night, Harrison. Chrissy always tried to sneak over and see that girl. I bet she did that night but Honey lied to protect her old man.”
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