A High-End Finish(15)

“She should’ve thought of that before . . .”

I didn’t catch the last part of the chief’s comment but I had a feeling it wasn’t complimentary.

“I’ve known her my whole life, Chief. I’ll follow her to the station. There won’t be any problems.” I appreciated Tommy’s vote of confidence.

“You know her well enough to vouch for her?” the chief asked sharply.

Tommy hesitated, then said, “I would trust her with my life.”

Hot tears sprang to my eyes, a rare occurrence. I’d always known Tommy was a good friend, but hearing him defend me to his boss, especially with everything that was going on, meant a lot.

It also meant something to know that the chief of police didn’t trust me to drive my own car to the station. That made me so angry, I wanted to spit nails. But I would just have to live with his attitude. Thor was new in town. He didn’t know me. Didn’t know who to trust and who to suspect. I could only hope that he was good enough at his job to learn quickly.

I wiped my eyes and sniffled once, composing myself before coming into view. Another patrol car had arrived and two more cops I recognized were scanning the yard in front of the house.

“Get your keys, Shannon,” Tommy said casually. “I’ll follow you to the station.”

“Okay.” I gave the chief a prickly look as I passed him. He raised that one eyebrow again, and even though I couldn’t see him as I walked down the steps, I knew his gaze never steered away from me.

When I reached the walkway, I turned to look up at him and cursed silently. Damn it, why did he have to be so compelling? It was disconcerting to distrust him so much and feel this attraction to him at the same time.

I would be smart to ignore his appeal and concentrate on the fact that he considered me a murder suspect, someone who would flee the scene to avoid his cop questions.

The two officers who had just arrived were preparing to dust the front stair rail and doorway for fingerprints. Jensen asked them to also survey the neighbors and take note of anything unusual while they waited for the county coroner to arrive. Tommy and the chief followed me back to the station in their SUVs.

Fifteen minutes later, we all pulled into the parking lot of the Lighthouse Cove Police Station. I saw my uncle Pete’s truck and figured he was here, too. I was happy to have all the support I could get. I just hoped they hadn’t stopped at the pub first to start a new betting pool.

? ? ?

“I’d like to go over it from the beginning again,” Chief Jensen said as he flipped a page in his notepad. “What were you doing out at the Boyers’ house on a Sunday afternoon?”

It was the fourth or maybe fifth time the chief had posed the same question over the past two hours. Was he trying to get me to flub my answers? He’d also been called out of the conference room twice, something that unnerved me because I was stuck waiting and wondering what would happen next. Maybe he was getting reports from the crime scene or stories from other witnesses, whoever they might be. Maybe he’d found the real killer. So what was I still doing here?

The last time he’d left the interrogation room, I had asked him to please send my father and uncle home. It was no use having them hang around and wait for me. I would fill them in on things once I got home. If I was ever allowed to go home.

I gazed at the chief and tried to appear patient and helpful—if you ignored my clenched teeth. “As I already told you, I got a call from Mr. Boyer, who asked me to swing by and check to see if there was water running somewhere in the house. He said he was still in San Francisco and couldn’t get here for a while.”

“And he heard about the running water from a neighbor.”

“That’s what he told me.”

Jensen skimmed a few pages of his notepad. “We’ve talked to all the neighbors and nobody claims to have called the owners.”

I frowned at him, confused. This was the first time I’d heard that. “But that’s what Stan told me. Why would he lie? He said that one of his neighbors called him. You should track him down and ask him the same question. Or maybe your guys missed one of the neighbors. You might want to follow up with them.”

He ignored my useful suggestions as he scanned his notes. “Did Mr. Boyer reach you on your home phone or your cell?”

“My cell phone.” My cell phone! I quickly rummaged through my purse and pulled it out, feeling victorious. I slid my finger across the screen and handed it to him. “See? Here’s my list of recent phone calls.”

He stared at the screen for a long moment and I wanted to snatch it back from him. Was I showing him too much? Was he memorizing the names of the other people I’d talked to recently? But then he tapped the Boyers’ icon and it took him to another screen that listed whether the call had been incoming or outgoing, the time and date of the call, and how long it lasted.

He took his time studying the info screen, then wrote the details down on his notepad. He handed the phone back to me and I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “So that proves it, right?”

“There’s still the matter of that death threat on the beach.”

Could he see the steam coming out of my ears? How many times did I have to explain myself? “I’ve already gone over that with you,” I said carefully. “What else do you want to know?”