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Dela stared at Quinn. Why was he being such an ass? She stood up. “In the hamper in my bathroom, except for this shirt and these shoes,” and pointed to the security uniform shirt she wore. “Do I need to strip here in the kitchen?”
His eyes flashed, and she wished she hadn’t let her anger and frustration get to her. She walked to the hall and over her shoulder said, “Agent Shaffer, you’ll find a garbage sack under the sink that you can put the clothes in.” Continuing down the hall to her bedroom, she locked the door and stripped out of the top layer of clothing and the sock and shoe on her foot. Dela pulled on sweat pants and a sweatshirt, before sliding her foot into a slipper and leaving the shoe as she always did on her prosthesis.
Opening the door, Quinn stood beside the door with the open garbage bag.
“You know, Detective Dick didn’t even ask for my clothes or even take any samples when he had me in for questioning.” She dropped the muddy clothing from the hamper, her shirt, and shoe in the bag.
“Both shoes,” Quinn said, staring at the shoe on her prosthesis.
She backed to the bed and sat down. “You really know how to hurt a person,” she mumbled, untying the shoe and pulling it off the fake foot. With tears of anger and humiliation burning her eyes, she said, without looking up, “Do you want the sock, too?”
“Yes.” His voice was softer this time.
She pulled the sock off her titanium foot and held it up without looking at him. “If it makes you happy, I gave you my underwear and the jacket I was wearing this morning.”
He didn’t move, she could see the toes of his leather shoes.
“Get out.” She raised her voice and her head, looking at him with all the hurt and anger she felt over his believing she could kill someone.
He started to open his mouth, then clamped it shut, pivoted, and left the room.
Dela sat on the end of the bed, listening as the FBI Agents walked to the door and it shut behind them.
Mugshot walk/hopped into the room and lay his head on her lap. She stroked his soft fur and hugged his neck. “I never really liked him anyway,” she said, sniffling.
♠ ♣ ♥ ♦
After a soak in the tub, Dela called Kenny, her second in command at the casino.
“Hey, Boss, what’s going on? Margie said Detective Jones hauled you out of here this afternoon,” Kenny answered.
“He thinks I killed someone. But I didn’t and Heath is going to help me prove it.” She had thought about how Heath had believed her. If someone had accused Heath of murder, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to say to him, “I know you didn’t do it.” What made him so sure she hadn’t? Or had he just said that to try and get her guard down? They had been apart a lot of years. In those years, they’d both grown and become different people. They’d both done things she was pretty sure the other would have never guessed when they’d dated in high school.
“We know you didn’t. But you know Bernie, when he gets word of this you may be in trouble.” Kenny was her upbeat sidekick. But he also knew Bernie Moon a lot better than she did. Bernie was his uncle.
“Yeah, I plan to talk to him tomorrow. In the meantime, can you see how many people at the casino knew about Paul Winter making meth and if they know who he sold it to?”
Kenny whistled. “Paul was cooking? That explains a lot. I’ll see what I can find out. Good luck with Bernie.”
“Thanks.” She ended the call and sat in the recliner, thinking.
Knocking, and Heath’s voice, invaded Dela’s dream. She rubbed a hand over her face and opened her eyes. The amber glow of the living room light reminded her she was in the recliner. When she’d first moved in during the remodel, she’d slept in the recliner until she’d bought a bed.
Mugshot stood by the front door whining.
“Dela, it’s me, Heath. Come on, I see the light on.”
A glance at her watch showed it was a quarter to midnight.
“Just a minute,” she said, fumbling for her crutches and rising up out of the recliner. Three steps and she unlocked the door and moved to the side.
Heath opened the door. He wasn’t in his uniform, but his gaze scanned the room as thoroughly as if he were on duty.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, moving into the kitchen to get something to drink.
He followed her. “I couldn’t quit thinking about what Grandfather Thunder said about the victim cooking meth. I came back out to have a look around. Then as I passed by, I saw the light still on and thought maybe you were having trouble sleeping.” He sat in a chair at the table.
“No, I fell asleep in the chair after the Feds were here.” She sat down, sliding a glass of iced tea in front of Heath.
“Quinn and buddy?” Heath asked.
“Yeah. He said Detective Dick asked him to help because you were biased.” She raised the cup to sip and watched Heath.
He grinned. “I might be a bit biased, but I also know you wouldn’t kill anyone.”
She shook her head. Her shoulder-length dark hair brushed her neck. “You don’t know that. I was an M.P. for the army in Iraq.” She held his gaze. “I have killed someone. But it was in the duty of my job for the army. I have never killed anyone stateside.”
Heath studied her. “You’re telling me you have changed.”
She nodded. “But not so much I would kill someone without thinking about the consequences. In Iraq, it was kill and protect, or be killed. Here, I don’t plan on ever ending another person’s life.”
He grasped her hand and held it. “I know that about you. You take life, all life, seriously. That’s why I know you didn’t kill Winter.” He released her hand and picked up his glass. “What did Quinn want?”
She stared into her drink. “He had Shaffer search the house and then he made me give him the clothes I had on.” Tears burned her eyes. “Even the shoe from my prosthesis. It was embarrassing.”
Heath was beside her, his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, you already told me he’s a jerk and I’ve seen it myself. You didn’t kill the victim and his blood won’t be on your clothes. From what I saw on the reports, he bled internally so there was little blood that spilled.”
“I’ve been thinking about how wild he looked when he attacked me. Do you think he was taking the stuff he cooked?” This thought had come to her when she was soaking in the tub.
“Toxicology on the body will tell us. The autopsy should show the usual effects. Sores or deteriorating teeth.” Heath squeezed her shoulders. “Want me to hang out here tonight?”
She studied him. There wasn’t heat or desire in his eyes. He was asking as a friend. Which was all she needed right now. Dela still wasn’t sure she wanted to put the burden of her messed up life on anyone else.
“I’m not feeling the need for company. I just wish Ina had never called me or that she had better information when she told me that her husband wouldn’t be at home.”
Heath released her and sat back down across from her. “What made her think her husband wouldn’t be living in their house?”
Dela studied him. “The neighbor said he hadn’t been around. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” She grabbed her crutches and stood. “I really would like to go to bed. I have to go to work tomorrow and make sure no one there throws me under the bus with Detective Dick. Kenny said I’d probably hear from Bernie and he would ask around about Winter making and selling meth.”
Heath rose and put both their glasses in the sink. “Sounds like you’ve been busy between your questioning and house being searched.” He stepped up to her and again put his arms around her. “Remember, I’m only a phone call away.” He glanced around the house. “I believe your remodel has been finished for a couple of weeks according to Grandfather Thunder. Am I still getting an invitation to move in as a roommate?”
She smiled as she peered up at his face. His long dark hair hung about his shoulders, framing strong cheekbones and a high forehead. It was a face she knew well. “I think when I am cleared of this mess, you may move in. If you do it before, they may not give you access to the case, which we’ll need to find out who framed me.”
He grinned. “I will work hard at getting you cleared so I can move in soon.”
She pushed out of his embrace. “If I had said I’d changed my mind, would you have changed sides and helped Detective Dick railroad me?”
“I would never help Jones do anything to hurt you. I would have started looking for my own place. I’m tired of living with my mom and Grandfather Thunder.”
Dela laughed. “I know that feeling. I enjoy my mom so much better with us living apart.”
“Check in with me in the morning.” Heath walked to the door.
“I will. Thanks for being such a good friend.” She swung over to the door with her crutches.
“I’ve never stopped being your friend. We just needed time and space.” He opened the door and walked over to his car.
She waved, closed the door, and locked it, then headed down the hall to her bed. “Come on, Mugshot. We need sleep so we can prove I’m innocent.”
