you didn’t mind helping her?”
“Right.”
Clay ran a hand through his hair, looked around. “Listen, I know this doesn’t make a lot of sense, but something about this doesn’t feel right to me. I think they’ll let Kelsey go soon and I can’t help her because I’m needed here. We’ve taken everyone’s statements and I was just about to announce that everyone’s free to go. Do you think you could go to the station and offer to give her a ride, make sure she’s okay?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” It beat wandering around here in a suit, trying to stay calm, like one of the band members on the Titanic while it went down. “Are you two dating?”
Clay laughed. “Her mom and my mom are sisters. I’d say that’s a no.”
Cousins. How had he missed that in high school? That shouldn’t have made Sawyer as relieved as it did. He didn’t remember ever being attracted to Kelsey in high school, though he’d admired her intellect and competitive spirit. Was he that shallow that the fact that she’d grown up gorgeous had made her catch his attention? Or had he just changed enough to recognize that Kelsey Jackson might be a special kind of woman?
“I’ll go see what I can do,” Sawyer said, and Clay nodded.
“Thanks, man.”
Then the other man was gone, leaving Sawyer to jog toward his truck and wonder how this night that had started out as an obligation—a somewhat boring one, at that—had turned into some kind of secret mission to make sure a woman who couldn’t stand him was all right, safe from a threat Sawyer didn’t yet understand.
* * *
Kelsey sat in the small room that passed for an interrogation room in Treasure Point. Really, it was an old office that the officers usually used as a sort of lounge. It was where the coffeepot was, and the smell of burnt coffee filled her nose and made her ready to confess anything just so she could get out of this room, out of this town and back to her life in Savannah.
Except sheer stubbornness meant that she wasn’t about to confess when she wasn’t guilty of anything. Quite the opposite, she was one of the most promising witnesses they had. So why this treatment? They’d kept her waiting in here for nearly an hour.
The door squeaked as it began to open. Kelsey braced herself. As boring as it had been to sit here, and as eager as she was to get this over with so she could leave, she was not looking forward to any line of questioning that pointed to her as a murderer, a concept so atrocious to her she couldn’t let her mind dwell on it.
But instead of Davies’s smirk, ready for an interrogation, it was the chief’s weathered, familiar face.
“Sir! What are you doing here?”
He cracked the smallest of smiles behind his facial hair. “I work here. Although I could ask the same of you.”
Kelsey looked down.
“Listen, I talked to the lieutenant. And I’ve been over to the museum to see where all of this happened, and I talked to Clay Hitchcock. Let’s start this over, shall we?”
“How so?”
“It sounds like you have some useful information about Michael Wingate’s murder.”
Murder. Kelsey shivered.
“But I’m not looking at you as a suspect. This town and this department has had enough foh-paaahs lately.”
She tamped down the giggle that his overly Southern pronunciation of faux pas had brought on.
“Tell me what you saw, Kelsey.” He pulled out the chair across from her. Leaned back.
Kelsey weighed her options. She could still ask for a lawyer and refuse to answer any questions until counsel arrived. She was taking a chance sharing everything she knew. If someone was eager to frame her, they could twist the information she gave against her.
But she knew from her time on the force that the chief was a man of honor. She wouldn’t end up locked up without a cause, and the best thing she could do was give him the story he was asking her for, just in case any of it helped. Besides, the information would clear her name for good in case anyone was wondering. The balcony should show signs of a struggle between a pair of people much larger than she was. They might even get footprints that clearly didn’t match her heels, or other pieces of physical evidence like hairs or fibers.
“I needed some air.” Kelsey began, and she told the chief about leaving the main party area, finding a darkened room, then hearing voices and the sounds of a struggle.
“I went straight to Clay and told him and he went out to investigate. The next thing I knew, the lights were off.”
“The lights?”
“All of them, sir. Someone flipped a breaker, I would guess. But what I want to know is why? It’s not as if the murderer needed to sneak up on Mr. Wingate. The murder had already taken place. And if the darkness was to cover his escape, why bother? The museum has multiple exits. Even if he looked as though he’d been in a struggle, it would have been easy enough for him to sneak away without being seen after the body fell. Why draw attention to the fact that something was going on when he had the chance for a clean getaway?”
“Maybe he panicked?”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. Something about this feels cold-blooded to me. I don’t think it was premeditated, but I don’t think the pushing was an accident. I do think whoever the other man was, he meant to kill Wingate.”
“Solid reason for that?”
“No. Just gut instinct.”
The chief said nothing to that. She wouldn’t have expected him to—no words were necessary to remind her that her gut instinct had been wrong before. With devastating consequences for her career. In the case that had ended her tenure with the Treasure Point police department, she’d had a pair of conflicting statements to reconcile regarding a theft from Sawyer Hamilton’s wealthy, influential parents. The senior Hamiltons had pointed fingers at a former employee of theirs, a man named Scott Nicholson.
Given her own grudge against Sawyer, it hadn’t taken much for Kelsey to feel sympathy for Nicholson, a man from humble beginnings who seemed to be suffering from the Hamiltons’ prejudice. Believing in his innocence, she chose to release him from custody, not knowing that they’d find ironclad evidence against him just a few hours later. Her bad judgment meant that he almost managed to escape punishment entirely—they barely managed to catch him before he fled town.
“So, where do we go from here?” Kelsey spoke up, recognizing that she did so because the silence made her uncomfortable. Too much silence gave her time to think about the past, something she preferred to avoid.
“From here, you’re free to go. I only wanted your testimony. Davies was being a bit overzealous for justice in this case. He could have taken your statement at the scene. Bringing you down here in the back of the squad car was unnecessary.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Thank you.”
Kelsey rose to her feet and preceded the chief out of the office. She’d just
