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Pascale made a grunt of affirmation. Clicking the shutter, Jack flashed back to when Shannon had come on to him at The Summit. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Shannon fooled around on her husband, or that Mark preferred to turn a blind eye to his wife’s infidelities.
Had that changed tonight? Had Shannon’s unfaithfulness pushed her husband to do the unthinkable?
And what about the man Shannon had left the bar with? Had the ex-convict lost control of the violence Jack sensed lurked just beneath the surface? Dillon Ward had killed before. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think he was capable of taking a woman’s life.
As he methodically snapped pictures, Jack couldn’t help but remember the kiss he and Kelsey had shared.
He lowered the camera fractionally and clenched his jaw. Damn it, he never should have touched her.
Didn’t matter, he assured himself as he raised the camera. By the time he was through processing the scene and went to question Ward, Kelsey would be long gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
KELSEY SMOOTHED A HAND over her jittery stomach before inhaling deeply and knocking on the door to Dillon’s apartment. She’d almost left town, had made it as far as the highway before deciding to try one more time to get through to her brother. She needed to tell him how sorry she was for her part in sending him to prison.
And she needed him to listen. But, even if he did blow her off again, she wasn’t giving up. She’d simply go back to Manhattan and regroup.
Lifting her hand to knock again, she heard footsteps and the door opened. Her heart sank. Dillon looked like hell. Heavy stubble coated his cheeks and chin, his eyes were bloodshot and he had a serious case of bed head.
He looked like their stepfather used to after one of his many benders.
She swallowed her disappointment. God, how she wished his life had turned out differently.
It would have turned out differently, she reminded herself, if it hadn’t been for her.
“I thought you were gone.” Dillon’s voice was husky, as if she’d woken him up. Possible, since it was barely seven-thirty on a Saturday.
“I’m leaving,” she said, pushing past him, but her entrance was ruined when she stumbled over a pair of work boots by the door. She kicked them to the side and stepped over several small clumps of mud littering the floor.
“Come on in,” he said wryly as he shut the door.
Kelsey crossed to the small, round kitchen table. “I just need ten minutes.”
“I told you yesterday—”
“Please, Dillon. I swear, after ten minutes, after you hear me out, if you still want me to leave, I’ll go. You’ll never have to see me again.”
She held her breath while he studied her. Time had matured him. Besides his broader shoulders, his face was much leaner. But his eyes, those incredible hazel eyes of his, were the same.
This was the same brother who had loved her.
“Ten minutes.” He went to the sink and began filling a coffeepot with water. “Then you’re gone.”
She pressed her lips together and sat at one of the two chairs at his table. While he measured out coffee, she looked around the apartment. It was small and sparsely furnished. No clutter on the counters, no pictures or photographs on the walls. No magnets or notes littering the refrigerator. Pretty much just like her own apartment.
And how sad was that?
“This is a nice place,” she lied.
Dillon snorted. “It’s a regular penthouse.”
“Have you lived here long?”
“Long enough.”
She forced a smile even though Dillon had yet to look up from the coffee dripping into the pot. “Smells good up here. Must be nice living over a bakery. Bet you get all the day-old stuff half price, huh?”
He finally lifted his head. “You’re rambling.”
Heat crept up her neck. “Yeah, well, I ramble when I’m nervous.”
He grunted and replaced the pot with a mug so the brewing coffee dripped directly into it. Poured coffee into a second mug before putting the pot back and set one in front of her. “I remember.”
And for some stupid, inconceivable reason, those two little words made her eyes fill with tears. Luckily, Dillon turned back to the coffeepot and she was able to blink away the offensive moisture before he noticed.
He pulled the other chair out and sat down. “Why don’t you—”
A knock at the door cut him off. Dillon swore under his breach and went to answer it, his body blocking Kelsey’s view.
“Holy God,” he said to the person on the other side. “Could this morning get any worse?”
“I need you to come to the station with me.”
Kelsey froze. She recognized that voice. It had haunted her dreams last night. Well, maybe not her dreams, more like her fantasies.
Dillon opened the door more fully. “I’d love to, Chief. But I’m afraid I have company.”
Jack entered the room, his gaze zeroing in on her. “What are you doing here?”
“She’s leaving,” Dillon said, before she could speak, “in approximately four minutes.”
Jack frowned and turned his attention back to Dillon. “She’s leaving now. And you’re coming with me.”
Dillon sipped his coffee, leaned back against the counter and crossed his bare feet at the ankles. “What’s this about?”
Jack quickly studied the room, then stared at a spot by the door. “Are those your boots?”
“Yeah.”
“Were you wearing them last night?” Dillon straightened. “Why?”
Jack looked at Kelsey as he said, “We can discuss it at the station.”
She fought a growing sense of unease. “I think you should discuss it now.”
“This doesn’t concern you, ma’am,” Jack said.
Ma’am? Last night the man had kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her and now he was back to calling her ma’am?
She looked out the open door. A uniformed officer stood on the top of the stairs. Her unease turned into full-blown panic. “If it involves my brother, then it does concern me.”
“Take it easy,” Dillon murmured to her. “Am I under arrest, Chief?”
“I just want to ask you a few questions about last night.”
“Ask away,” Dillon said mildly.
“Where were you this morning between the hours of midnight and two-thirty?”
“I was here.”
“Can anybody verify that?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I, along with numerous other witnesses, including your sister here—” Jack nodded toward Kelsey “—saw you leave The Summit bar with Shannon Crandall.”
“So?”
“Were you in Mrs. Crandall’s house?”
“I stopped by there—to pick up a check.”
“Did you and Mrs. Crandall argue?” Kelsey couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “What’s this about?”
Jack kept his eyes on Dillon. “Shannon Crandall was found murdered this morning.”
Her stomach turned. “What? Oh my God. But, I don’t understand.” She looked from Jack to Dillon as they attempted to stare each other down. Jack’s face was unreadable, while Dillon’s expression grew darker with each passing moment. “What does this have to do with Dillon?”
“Don’t you get it?” Dillon ground out harshly when Jack remained silent. “I’m their number-one suspect.”
JACK SHUT THE DOOR TO the booking-interrogation room after taking Ward’s statement, leaving Pascale in the room with their suspect. Alone in the hallway, he leaned against the cold beige wall and stared at the scuffed linoleum floor.
Two hours of questioning and they hadn’t managed to shake Ward’s story or, better yet, get him to confess.
Ward had been nothing if not cool and calm during the past two hours. No matter how hard Jack had grilled him, he’d stuck to his story unflinchingly, his expression giving none of his thoughts away.
And, as much as Jack would like to blame the lack of progress on Ward’s stoic personality, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his own fault. If coming back to Serenity Springs had somehow dulled his edge as an interrogator. An edge he’d honed carefully during his four years as detective.
With little physical evidence—and no murder weapon—no eyewitnesses to the actual crime, and no confession, he didn’t have a strong enough reason to charge Ward with murder. Yet.
Jack walked past the empty holding cells and down the main hallway. As he placed his hand on the doorknob to the break room, Ben Michaels came barreling around the corner.
“Chief,” the kid called as he hurried down the hall.
Jack sighed. “What’s the problem?”
“Dora Wilkins is here…out front. She wants a statement.”
Jack rubbed his temples. Because not only was Dora editor in chief of the local newspaper, the Serenity Springs Gazette, she was also their lead reporter. And a huge pain in Jack’s ass.
He ground his back teeth together. Hell, he’d hoped for a few minutes alone. Time to make a quick phone call to his inlaws and check in on Emma. “Put Dora in my office. Tell her I’ll—”
“I can’t do that,” Michaels blurted. “Why not?”
Michaels’s protruding Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. “I’ve already put my mom…uh…I mean, the mayor in your office.”
Great. Not only did he have a murderer to find and an overzealous reporter to get rid of, but he also had to take time to coddle and reassure Mayor Michaels.
Sometimes, he really hated his job.
“Does Dora know the mayor is here?” Jack asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Keep it that way. Let the mayor know I’ll be in to see her in five minutes. Then put Dora in the front office. Tell her I’ll give her an official statement in half an hour. Any word from the district attorney?”
“He’s in court this morning, but he’s supposed to call as soon as he has a recess.”
Jack turned to the break room door. “Let me know the minute he calls.”
“Uh, Chief…”
Jack bit back a curse. “Yeah?”
“That woman, the one who was at the accused’s apartment—”
“He’s not the accused. He hasn’t been charged.”
“Right. Uh, anyway, she showed up here after we brought Mr. Ward in.” He lowered his voice and gestured to the door. “She’s waiting in there.”
Of course she was.
So far he’d managed to put Kelsey—and the stricken expression on her face when he’d escorted her brother to a police car—out of his mind. Naturally he would now have to face her, to be reminded of the way he’d lost control and kissed her.
Kissing her had been a mistake. He just hadn’t expected it to reach this magnitude of mistake-dom. After all, last night she’d simply been a sexy stranger. A woman who’d attracted him.
Today, she was the sister of a murder suspect.
“Better make it fifteen minutes before I get to the mayor,” Jack said. “And no one on staff talks to Dora. No statements. No theories. Nothing. If she so much as asks for the time, the answer is ‘no comment.’ Understand me?”
Michaels bobbed his head. “Yes, sir.”
Jack pushed the door open.
Kelsey, in the act of pacing behind the long, scarred rectangular table, whirled to face him. “It’s about time. Can my brother leave now?”
Ignoring her question—and the way her scent wrapped around him—he headed to the coffeemaker. After pouring the inky liquid into a disposable cup and adding a generous amount of powdered creamer, he grabbed the bottle of pain relievers from the counter.
