I think I knew I was full of crap even before the words left my mouth. And I really was out of line doing the whole arresting thing like that. But it was like I was possessed, taken over by the demon of the woman scorned, the less worldly and more naive Fee Fleming who trusted this piece of trash for years only to have her heart torn out, thrown on the ground, stomped and discarded with the level of disdain most people reserve for a cockroach.
Speaking of cockroaches, Ryan blinked at me before his face flared red, those high cheekbones lit with his anger, eyes flashing. It sucked he was still so pretty, really. Come to think of it, I’d done a number on my old nemesis, Vivian, when we were kids, taking the stuffing out of her in defense of Daisy—not to mention giving her a satisfying gusher of a nosebleed—when I’d broken her schnoz. There was nothing saying I couldn’t offer a love tap right here and now, right? Who’d stop me? I was a deputy. I could always say he was trying to escape.
Fee, oh Fee. Get over it already.
It took Jill grasping my arm in one strong hand and tugging me with some force to her side to keep me from giving my plan a go. When had I become so irrational? Oh, right, when I caught the guy I thought I was going to marry in bed with another woman in our apartment, taking over my life, wiping out my happiness with a single, startling moment of awareness and awakening I’d gladly let him share the memory of with a firm and painful knee to his sensitive places. He’d earned it, right? Let him truly experience how I felt in the very place he seemed to value over my heart.
“Mr. Richards, is it?” Jill didn’t smile, wasn’t throwing me under the bus. Nope, not in the least. In fact, she seemed pretty serious about my accusation and took a step closer to him, bless her, frown pulling her brows together, her feminine yet physically intimidating presence making him back off, the coward. “I’m assuming Fee has a reason for her attempted arrest?”
Ryan rubbed at the spot on his chest where I’d poked him, the baby, like it still hurt. Boo freaking hoo. His own scowl deepened but he answered her with the twinge of a whine I’d been so grateful to escape once I realized who he really was. “I have no idea,” he said. “Grayson was my boss and I’m only here because he invited me to come.” He stuck out his jaw in my direction, petulant little-boy face no longer endearing or adorable but annoyingly trite. “If I’d known she was here I would have stayed home or advised Mr. Gallinger to dump this trip all together.” Eddie hissed under his breath but Ryan didn’t seem to notice he’d just stabbed his old college buddy in the back. Just like Ryan, no change there. All about him, wasn’t it?
Jill glanced over her shoulder at me. “You and Fee have a history?”
Well, crap. Whoops. Before I could answer, Ryan rushed on.
“She’s a menace,” he said, moving like he planned to lunge at me though I knew the coward in him would never try it. Jill’s head whipped around and shut down his angry tone, but the childish whine remained as he finished. “She almost got me disbarred. Thanks to Mr. Gallinger I kept my license to practice law and went to work for him exclusively as his legal counsel.” He sniffed at me as if he caught scent of something that didn’t appeal. “Say what you want, but I owed him. I didn’t kill him.”
“Maybe you’d like to tell Deputy Wagner that your father is a chiropractor,” I snapped back. “And that you have the skills needed to kill Grayson Gallinger in the exact mode of his death.” And double whoops. I realized as I let that writhing, screeching cat out of the bag of my messy thoughts I’d just handed everyone in earshot the kind of information that wasn’t really detective best practice. In fact, it was pretty much no-no No.1. And from the shock and then anger on Jill’s face, she was going to tell me all about how much I’d screwed up just as soon as she got me alone with her.
Thankfully, she held her patience as the men gathered closer, whispering and shaking their heads at each other while Barry joined us, looking contrite.
“Confirmed,” he said. “The victim died of a broken neck, a single twist that severed his spinal cord and killed him instantly.”
Jill’s grunt told me he was now on her crap list, too, so at least I wasn’t alone there. “Mr. Richards,” Jill said then, voice dropping to rasping depths like she was channeling Crew—something that made me feel worse, not better, because it wasn’t just her I’d let down, it was him, and after he’d trusted me and everything—“is it accurate your father is a chiropractor and would have knowledge of how to deliver such an injury?”
Ryan snorted, hands up, looking aghast enough I knew then I’d jumped the gun and made a fool of myself. “Please,” he said. “Just because my dad is one doesn’t mean I know jack about it. And besides.” He shuddered, looked at his hands before dropping them to his sides, “I can’t even kill a spider let alone a person.”
Calm returning, I remembered how many times I’d been forced to remove dead mice or bugs from our apartment because Ryan just couldn’t bring himself to handle the tiny corpses. He’d clearly not changed at all, so what were the odds he could bring himself to end someone’s life?
Sigh. Yeah, nice job, Fee. Way to let him get to you all over again.
The realization and subsequent self-flagellation actually left me clearer headed than I expected and, as Jill glanced back and forth between us as if waiting for me to offer a reason she should pursue the questioning I shook my head.
“I think his real alibi is cowardice,” I said. “Thanks for reminding me of that, Ryan.”
Jill’s jaw jumped but she seemed to have her own temper under control while she nodded to me then my cheating ex. “Very well,” she said. “But I’ll have more questions for you shortly. In the meantime, with this new evidence in hand, I’d like to start again. Mr. Mauer?”
Eddie glared at Ryan as she took him aside for further questioning.
I’d give Jill props for her education and taking initiative. Over the next few hours she showed how much she’d learned from Crew, her methodical and calculated interrogations of each of the suspects—and they were all suspects, though Bill she discounted almost immediately, not to mention Mom—as thorough as her boss’s. And about to drive me just as crazy.
Dad always said Crew was too locked into traditional techniques, too taken with his training and the slow, in depth dissection of truth he’d learned from the FBI. I tended to agree, pacing when she went on and on in concise Sheriff Turner fashion, wishing she’d just hurry up already.
Impatience, thy name was Fiona Fleming.
But, after almost screwing up her case—or after screwing it up by revealing the COD, let’s be honest about it—I held my tongue and my peace, listening in and doing my best to focus on what she asked who and how. It really was very interesting, how she asked and asked again in layers of questions, seemingly innocuous, about alibis and attitudes and how they knew Grayson Gallinger. By the time Mom interrupted to announce dinner was ready, Jill had created a clear picture of each and every one of the people in the retreat’s positions, habits and feelings toward the dead man without actually coming out and asking directly for anything aside from, “Where were you at 2AM?” and “What was your relationship to the victim?”
Very cool. But worthless, as far as I could see. It wasn’t like she miraculously had one of them supply a spontaneous confession or anything. I could understand the process and accepted that it was helpful, but more peripherally. I liked getting my hands dirty, I guess.
Go figure.
Jill left Bill and Moose watching over the men who Mom fed with her same efficiency and finesse. Yes, someone died, but that didn’t stop Lucy Fleming from doing what she did best. And, as the gathered suspects dined on her delicious fare, I joined Jill, Mom and Barry in the kitchen, Petunia at my mother’s feet in expectant excitement.
I tried to apologize, but Jill waved it off. “You have a history,” she said. “That’s the guy?” Yes, I’d mentioned my cheating ex a few times, hadn’t I? Why did I let my embarrassment about having history with him keep me from mentioning that earlier? Dumb, Fee. Just dumb.
I grunted while Mom growled something under her breath.
Jill just sighed and nodded. “Listen, I get it,” she said. “I’ve my own string of jerks I still wish I’d been able to just shoot if I could have gotten away with it.” She stared down into her bowl of second night stew, the good stuff gone to the guests thanks to Mom’s dedication to her craft. Jill didn’t seem to notice, lips tight and thin. “But Fee, I need you to keep it together or I’m taking that badge away. Got it?”
Crew wasn’t the only one under pressure. I knew better. I nodded quickly. “I promise, I’ll stay out of trouble from now on.”
Jill actually laughed, all the tension leaving her, while Mom snorted beside me. Even Barry had the nerve to look amused. His humor only lasted a moment, though, what looked like abject misery settling over his face, slumping his shoulders.
I decided to ignore Jill and Mom’s reaction to my attempt at being a good Fleming and prodded him. “Are you okay?” I was mostly over my irritation with him, but not completely.
He shrugged, rubbing one arm, looking distinctly unhappy. “I just hate the wilderness. Bugs and dirt. Helicopters. Everything to do with this case.”
I gaped at him, Jill and Mom both startled, too. “What are you doing in Reading, then?” Um, mountains, hello.
He met my eyes with enough hang-dog in his expression I doubted his state of mind. “It was a great opportunity,” he said. “And I was told I’d be in the morgue for six months, not the field.” He stared sadly down at his dinner. “I wasn’t expecting back street politics or being dumped in the middle of nowhere like this.”
Ah, so he was under pressure, too. “Get used to it,” I said, not quite heartless but close.
Mom, on the other hand, patted his shoulder and pushed his bowl closer. “You’ll feel better after you eat, I promise. I even have apple pie for you, if you clean your plate.”
I almost snorted, but Barry took her to heart and dug in. Jill finished a moment later, leaving us as she helped herself to the walkie.
“I’ll report in,” she said. “Just don’t try to arrest anyone else while I’m gone, okay?”
Smarty pants deputy. I let her go, poking at my own stew, feeling about as perky as Barry all of a sudden. Except a moment later he beat me to shaking it off, looking up with a spark of something pulling him free from his funk.
“Oh, by the way,” he said. “I meant to tell Deputy Wagner and forgot. I had another look at the body when you left. Turns out there’s an odd bruise on the victim’s chin. It’s pretty distinctive.” And then, as if he hadn’t just handed me the key to the case, he finished with, “It’s the kind of mark that might help identify the killer.”
***