The blue and red police lights sent out happy rays of color as they twirled, belying the grim nature of what lay inside my uncle’s bookstore. I sat in the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, as shudders racked my body.
A warm hand came to rest on my arm. “Would you like some water?” The EMT held out a bottle.
Words wouldn’t push past the tightness in my chest and lump in my throat, so I mutely shook my head.
“The police want to ask you a few questions. I told them I’d see if you were up to it.” She placed another blanket around my shoulders.
As if the day couldn’t get any worse. My eyes closed, and I took a deep breath. “Tell them I’m ready.” Tears stung the backs of my lids, and I blinked them away before the police could see them.
The EMT slid a tissue into my hand, and I blew my nose as she waved two men in suits over to where I sat.
“Ma’am, I’m Detective Frank Sutter,” said a rotund man in a brown polyester suit that looked like it had seen far better days. “This is my partner, Detective Keith Logan. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”
“I’m not sure what I can tell you.” I sniffed and huddled deeper into the blankets, glad to have the shield of faux wool between me and the detectives.
“First, can you tell us your name?” Detective Logan spoke softly, his warm chocolate eyes both soothing and alluring. Taller than his partner, Logan seemed fit and firm under his well-cut, albeit not overtly expensive, charcoal suit. Dark, wavy hair lay back from his face and brushed the back of his collar, and his skin tones and the set of his cheekbones gave the impression he was from the Pacific Islands.
My mouth opened, and only a squeak came out, although I wasn’t sure if it was from the stress or because Keith Logan was one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. Good Lord, what was wrong with me? It had to be the shock. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m Jenna Quinn. I’m Paul Baxter’s niece.”
“I understand you’re the person who found Mr. Baxter.” Detective Sutter pulled a pad and pen from his breast pocket and flipped it open in his meaty hands, making a quick note.
My throat closed, leaving me only able to nod again. Dear God, he was dead. Dead. What was I going to do now? Where would I go? Guilt crashed through me as I realized my fear about my predicament had supplanted my grief over the loss of my uncle.
“Can you walk us through what happened, please?” Detective Logan’s kind gaze caught mine, and he gave a tiny nod of encouragement.
Another ragged breath shoved its way through me. “I arrived just before two AM this morning and used the key Uncle Paul had told me about. When I got up this morning, I went looking for him to let him know I’d arrived safely. I found him at the bottom of the stairs.” A lone tear slid down my cheek.
Sutter grunted. “And you had never been here before?”
“No, I hadn’t seen my uncle in almost ten years, and even then, it was when he and my aunt came to visit our family in Charlotte.” Damn it. I winced, wishing I could take back the word Charlotte, but it was too late now. I prayed he wouldn’t decide to dig too deeply into where I was from.
Another grunt as Sutter made notes. “Why were you here now? Was this a planned visit?”
Now came the sticky part. I chose my words carefully. “Uncle Paul had heard I was between jobs”—not a lie … technically—“and he wrote and asked me to come stay here for a while. We hadn’t seen each other for so long, and he wanted to have the chance to reconnect.” And now it would never happen. The sweet, funny uncle I remembered from all those years ago was gone, and I had no way to tell him I was sorry for never finding time to come visit. Grief finally outweighed my own struggles, and the tears flowed freely.
The EMT pressed another tissue into my hand, and I sopped at my eyes and cheeks and blew my nose.
“Can anyone verify when you left to come here so we can verify when you arrived?” Sutter looked at me, eyes narrowed and speculative.
“I live alone.” Technically not another lie. I had lived alone, at least in the crappy rattrap motel I’d ended up in for the last two weeks. “No one can verify when I left.”
More grunting. I wondered if he even realized he was doing it.
“We have your number from the nine-one-one call. We’ll call you if we have any further questions.” Sutter snapped the pad closed and slid it into his pocket.
Logan held out a business card. “Please let us know if you think of anything that might solve this.”
His words registered as he walked away.
“Wait, what? Solve? It wasn’t an accident?” Horror sliced through me.
Logan turned back to me. “Right now, we honestly aren’t sure.”
My mind reeled. What did he mean, not sure? Not sure as in “not sure exactly what happened,” or not sure as in “we think he may have been murdered”? I swallowed back the scream of frustration and desperation that shoved against my throat. Having them think I had lost it wasn’t a good idea.
I stopped an officer and confirmed I couldn’t stay in the apartment until it was released as a possible crime scene, although I did manage to gain permission to gather my things, fully escorted and supervised, from the guest room and bathroom. As I numbly shoved my duffle into the back seat of my car, I shoved grief and fear to the back of my mind, almost losing that battle when the coroner’s van pulled into the alleyway. I turned my head away, forcing myself not to think about the black zippered bag they would soon roll out.
I slid into my car and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. My bank account had less than two hundred dollars in it, which wouldn’t last long if I had to find a motel, especially when I added food costs on top.
Not wanting to witness the removal of the body, I turned the key in the ignition and put the car in gear, slamming on my brakes when Sutter tapped on my driver’s side window.
“Going somewhere, Ms. Quinn?”
“You implied I was free to leave when you said you’d call if you had more questions.” I kept the car in gear, ready to scoot away the moment Sutter moved out of my way.
Sutter grunted again. “I think it would be better if you rode with us.”
The air left my lungs, and bile flooded to the back of my throat. I swallowed deeply to keep from vomiting on my steering wheel. “With you?” My voice came out in a trembling whisper.
Sutter’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips, apparently assessing my onset of panic. “Yes. We have a few more questions we’d like to ask you down at the station.” His cold eyes bored through me as if he already knew all my secrets.
My hands clutched the steering wheel, knuckles white. “I’d be happy to answer your questions, Detective. I’ll follow you in my car.”
Detective Logan approached and whispered something in Sutter’s ear.
Sutter straightened, narrowing his eyes at me again and nodding before striding off to an unmarked sedan and sliding into the passenger seat. Logan got behind the wheel, and as the sedan pulled away from the parking lot, I followed.