The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(21)

Thank God.

“Hey.” Matt placed a hand on hers.

She didn’t draw away. He’d grabbed her hand a thousand times growing up. Whether it was running through the woods or wandering the fairgrounds to scope out the shortest lines at their favorite rides. His touch was familiar and calming. Maybe not so calming just now considering the question he’d felt compelled to ask.

“I’m here for you, not for them,” he said as if he’d read her mind. Probably had. “We shouldn’t even be having this conversation, but I can’t not tell you, Fin.”

“Tell me what specifically? That my dependability in a stressful situation is unreliable?” He needed to spell it out.

He released her hand, scrubbed his own over his smooth jaw. “This is more than concern for whether you can handle the stress. It feels like they’re using what happened to mount some sort of distraction.” He shrugged. “One designed to pull you away from your work with Jack. With the Legard case, I mean.”

This gave her pause. Matt was far too logical and too pragmatic to contrive conspiracy theories. “What kind of distraction?”

“You may not have heard, but Detective Wellman shot himself yesterday afternoon. The official cause of death hasn’t been released—”

“Shot himself?” The news jarred her. She gave her head a shake. “As in accidentally?” Why on earth would he have done so otherwise? Wait. No. Either way, this didn’t make sense. She had to be missing something.

“As in, he stuck his service revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger.”

Finley blinked at the violent image his words conjured. “Why?”

“Don’t know. The chief pointed out that his wife died a couple years ago.”

“Two years is a long time to wait to join your partner in death,” Finley argued. Wellman had talked about his wife often. “Besides, he has—had—two sons who have kids. They visit him all the time. Why would he check out like that? Did he leave a note?”

“If he did, it hasn’t been found yet.”

It wasn’t like this sort of thing didn’t happen. Cops weren’t immune. But . . . Finley thought of the voice mail. “He called me yesterday, but I missed him. I tried calling him back and got his voice mail.”

Why would he call her if he’d planned to take his life? To apologize for not solving Derrick’s case? Had he learned something new he wanted to share before . . . ? She doubted he would take the time to update her if he was contemplating suicide.

“He called you?” Matt frowned, took a moment to absorb her news. “I don’t have any idea why he would have called you, or any other details about his death.” He searched her gaze a moment. “It’s the chief’s reaction to Wellman’s death that has me worried. He reassigned Derrick’s case first thing this morning.”

Now Finley was even more confused. Wouldn’t all Wellman’s cases be reassigned? Chief of Police Lawrence’s personal interest in the reassignment was likely because he and the DA were friends of the Judge, and she wanted the case closed. Wellman had told Finley how her mother pushed him about the case.

“You’ve lost me. What does Wellman’s death and the new case assignment have to do with the chief and my involvement in the Legard case?”

“Lawrence gave specific instructions regarding Derrick’s case. He wants it dissected,” Matt explained, “starting with any role you played in what happened that night. He wants this new detective to get deep under your skin. His words, Fin. He wants you pressured.”

“Wait.” Finley held up her hands. She had to have heard that one part wrong. “What the hell does that mean, the role I played?”

“He didn’t clarify the statement.” Matt leaned slightly forward as if what he had to say next was particularly important. “But given the two cases—Derrick’s and Legard’s—came up in the same conversation as did the emphasis on your supposed role, there must be a connection. I don’t recall all this concern for how Derrick’s case was being handled months ago or even last week. Do you?”

When she moved her head side to side in a no, he went on. “There’s a motive here, Fin, and I think it’s about keeping you in check.”

Anger fired in her, burning away the confusion. “You’re right. The chief didn’t just wake up this morning with a one-year-old unsolved homicide on his mind. This is unquestionably about the Legard case.”

“Whatever the goal, you need to watch your back,” Matt warned. “You may want to consider speaking to the Judge. Maybe she knows what’s going on, maybe she doesn’t, but she needs to know that you know.”

The Judge would be fully informed. Finley had no doubt about that part. Not to mention, the Judge and Detective Wellman had attended church together when they were kids. According to Finley’s dad, the Judge considered Wellman a stellar detective. She would already be aware of all this.

Had the chief expressed his concerns to the Judge and briefed her on his plan for Derrick’s case? Or . . . was this her plan?

Who the hell knew?

“As grateful as I am for the heads-up,” Finley said, “I can’t have that conversation with the Judge. Our relationship doesn’t work that way anymore.” Before he could counter, she asked, “Who’s the new detective on the case?”