True to his promise, in seconds that seemed like years, Bradshaw busted in with Matt close behind him.
Brandishing Glocks, they yelled, “Police, hands in the air! Hands in the air!”
I wasted no time reaching for the cathedral ceiling, but Trey, holding Lila in his arms, simply shook his head. “Sorry, officers, she needs me. I can’t let her go.”
“You’re going to have to, Mr. Gregson. She’s ours now,” Bradshaw said.
Like the air in a pricked balloon, all the fake bravery drained out of me. I slipped to the floor, limp and exhausted, as empty as a roadhouse bottle at midnight. I tented my knees and laid my head on them, hiding my face, hiding from the truth. God, I’d messed up bad. So darn certain I knew who the killer was, I’d accused an innocent man of murder. How could anyone have been so wrong? So pigheaded?
“Honey.” Matt’s voice was close to my ear, so he must have been crouching by my side. I didn’t raise my head to look at him. I was too ashamed.
“Honey, are you all right?”
“No,” I murmured.
“No? What’s wrong? She didn’t shoot you, did she?” Alarm had leaped into his voice.
“She missed.” With that, I threw my arms around him while he held me and patted my back.
Voices and footsteps sounded all around us, but I didn’t give a good giggly.
“Sheriff, I have the transmitter.” Bradshaw.
I didn’t have the nerve to look him in the face.
“When you’re through, ah, helping the CI, will you bring her to the station?” he asked. “We need a statement.”
“As soon as she’s able, Detective.”
“Not too long, okay?” Kind of snarky.
I guess clinging to a cop at a crime scene wasn’t considered a proper way of behaving, so as soon as the room emptied out, I yanked a tissue out of my jeans, blew my nose, and stood. “Thanks, Matt. I needed that.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” His eyes crinkled with amusement.
A strange time to be amused, I huffed, and then I glanced down. “Oh, heavens.”
“Very sexy bra.” He sent me a big toothy grin.
“My best one.” I said, drawing the ripped shirt together in front. “It’s lacy.”
“I noticed.”
“I wanted to look good, in case I ended up in the morgue.” Not true. I’d never given the morgue a moment’s thought, but Matt didn’t know that, and his grin disappeared. Temporarily.
“You’re a remarkable woman, Honey Ingersoll, but there’s one other little thing.” The grin reappearing, he pointed to the back of my jeans. “I think you may have wet yourself. You know, being frightened and all. It’s not uncommon.”
I reached down and felt my bottom. Damp. “For your information, Sheriff, that’s Champagne.”
“Call it anything you want, sweetheart. Now, if you’re good to go, we need to find you something to wear.”
He disappeared into Trey’s bedroom, returning with a starched white dress shirt.
“You’re in luck,” he said. “Custom made.”
“That’s stealing. I thought you were incorruptible.”
“Not where you’re concerned. But for your information, the county will reimburse Mr. Gregson. Though a missing shirt’s the least of his problems.”
I shed my destroyed shirt, donned Trey’s, and with the sleeves rolled up, the tail covering my wet rear end, drove with Matt directly to the Eureka Falls Police Station.
It was in chaos. Phones were ringing all over the place, and Deputy Ellie was going crazy fielding questions from curiosity seekers lined up at the front desk. As we hurried past, Todd Stevens, editor of the Star, hustled in with his photographer in tow.
“I don’t have a story for you,” Ellie told him. “No, you cannot photograph Miss Lott. No, I don’t know if the senator has been informed of her arrest.”
How on earth has the news escaped so quickly?
Zach met us outside of Matt’s office.
“Get up front,” Matt told him. “Clear the building. Tell the press they’ll be informed as soon as Detective Bradshaw is ready to make a statement.”
As Zach hurried off, we went into Matt’s office and closed the door.
He said, “I’m going out front to give Zach a hand. You’ll be okay in here for a while?”
“Of course.”
“Bradshaw will be in as soon as he’s filed formal charges.”
Against Lila, the love of Sam’s life. Oh, God, what had I done? He’d be heartbroken when he found out about her, though chances were he already knew. From the noisy excitement here in the station, the whole town knew.
The last thing in the world I ever wanted to do was hurt Sam, but who could have guessed that privileged, lovely, and oh-so-correct Lila Lott was a serial killer?
Serial killer? I bolted upright in the chair. Is she? During my little sting operation, Violet’s name hadn’t come up once. But since the same gun killed both victims, it was unlikely anyone else was involved. Though, as I’d learned this afternoon, without proof positive, you shouldn’t assume guilt or innocence.
I heaved a sigh that bounced off the walls of the tiny room. What with so much floating around in my head, it felt too heavy to hold up. I wanted to go home, take a hot shower, and go to bed. Tune out today and what I would see in Sam’s eyes the next time we met.
He’d never forgive me.
Oh boy. I laid my head on Matt’s untidy desk and closed my eyes. It wasn’t a bed with a duvet, but it would have to do.
The rattle of the doorknob startled me awake.
“Sorry we took so long, Miss Ingersoll.” Bradshaw, his face full of shadows, strode in.
Matt followed and closed the door behind them.
I pushed back from the desk. “Your seat, Sheriff.”
“Stay where you are, Honey.” He took a stance by the filing cabinet.
Bradshaw sat across from me in the only other chair in the room. He took a recorder out of his pocket and laid it on the desktop. “If you don’t mind, we need to verify a few facts.”
I nodded. Would I refuse at this point?
“The suspect’s testimony is on the transmitter. We heard every word.” He permitted himself a small smile. “Just a few questions remain.”
The operation had only lasted a short time, but it was a blur of accusations and denials and confessions. Though my recollection was shaky, I answered everything as best I could. When we were finished, he pocketed the recorder and leaned across the desk to take both my hands. “On behalf of the citizens of Yarborough County, may I extend our deepest gratitude?”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“Oh, but it is.” He let go of my hands, gazing across at me with that dark look I’d found so off-putting just a short while ago. “You stopped a serial killer, Miss Ingersoll.”
“She killed Violet Norton too?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“Why? A harmless old woman like that.”
“Apparently she saw Miss Lott on the Hermann farm the day the Bixby woman was killed.” He shrugged. “She was silenced.”
Though I had guessed at a motive for Violet’s killing, if not the killer, I didn’t say so. This was a good time to keep quiet. I’d said enough already today. Besides, Bradshaw wasn’t through.
“Without your help, there’s no telling when we would have cracked the case. However, that said, I must tell you that you took terrible chances in there today and went way beyond our instructions. You’re lucky to be alive.” He stepped away from the desk. “So, my advice, young lady, is never again volunteer to be a CI. Not if you intend to live as long as Sheriff Rameros here wants you to.” With a wink—a wink!—he marched out, slamming the door behind him.
I blew out a breath and sent Matt a shaky smile. “Now what?”
“Now Bradshaw tells the press what went down. It’ll be all over the evening news. You’re going to be famous, Honey.” As if he needed to rest a while, he sank onto the empty chair. “Not only have you stopped a sick woman from killing again, you’ve altered the course of a national election.” A big, proud grin took over his face. “And how many realtors get to do that?”