Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(83)

“Zara Remington? You’re under arrest for the murder of Julie Pentley.” Detective Norton reached in and took her arm. “Please exit the vehicle.”

She coughed and let go of Ryker’s arm. Panic and shock buzzed through her mind. “I didn’t kill Julie,” she whispered as the detective assisted her into the cold. He turned her around and quickly snapped cuffs on her wrists. The metal was cold and bit into her skin.

Fury lit Ryker’s eyes, but with the gun at his temple, there wasn’t much he could do. “Don’t say anything until your attorney shows up,” he ground out.

Dazed, Zara gulped in air. “I won’t.”

Norton turned her, almost gently, toward his car. “You have the right to remain silent.” As he continued with her rights, she blanked out, her mind spinning.

What now? Her shoulders shook, and her knees weakened.

The detective guided her into the back of his car and shut the door before taking the driver’s seat. The officer with the gun then slipped into the other seat.

Silence ruled the car as Norton drove through the blustering storm to the police department. Zara endured being fingerprinted and then sat in a cell for about fifteen minutes before Norton fetched her. She entered a different interrogation room from last time. This one was cold and stark with one of those one-way mirrors she’d seen only on television. From a metal table, Norton pulled out a metal chair for her, facing the mirror.

She swallowed and sat, trying not to shiver.

He took the seat across from her, his brown eyes somber. “We know you did it.”

She blinked.

“The only motive I can think of is that you were still in love with the mayor.” Norton tapped a manila file on the table. “Or maybe Julie came at you, full of drugs, and you had to defend yourself? If so, tell me. I want to help you, but you need to help me first.”

Right. “I didn’t kill Julie, and I wasn’t present when she died.” Zara sat back and crossed her arms, her voice trembling. “I’m not saying another word until my lawyer arrives.” She knew the detective’s goal was to get her talking about anything and then catch her in some sort of mistake. Since she hadn’t killed Julie, she shouldn’t be afraid, but she knew better than to speak without Heath present.

“That’s your choice.” Norton also sat back. “But when your fast-talking attorney gets here, I won’t be able to help you.”

Like he really wanted to help her.

“Did Julie leave you anything? Any proof that you were her friend, not a jealous rival?” the detective asked.

“I gave her three thousand dollars a month to help her with bills,” Zara burst out. “Why do that if it wasn’t for friendship?”

The door opened. “Stop talking.” Heath strode inside and immediately shrugged out of a snow-covered jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. He wore a black button-down shirt, faded jeans, motorcycle boots, and a pissed-off expression on his handsome face, and his light brown hair was ruffled and sprinkled with snow.

Zara kept herself from edging away from the barely controlled violence rolling off him. He had another case to worry about and shouldn’t have to babysit her. “You don’t have to stay,” she whispered.

Heath ignored her and faced the detective. “This is going to get you sued, Detective.”

“I don’t think so.” Norton waited until Heath sat next to Zara. “We have proof, a lot of it, so your client needs to help herself out here and cooperate.”

Heath’s upper lip curled. “You have fingerprints at Julie’s motel, which makes sense because my client visited Julie there. They were friends.” He pushed back from the table. “If that’s all, then I want to bail out my client.”

Norton shook his head. “That’s nowhere near all. We have your client’s ID for the Picalo Club, which is related to the blackmail, I believe. Your client was explaining the money to me.”

Heath frowned. “Right. Zara lent Julie money because her asshole of a husband wouldn’t give her any. There’s no crime in that.”

“I think Zara bought drugs for poor Julie because Julie was blackmailing her.” Norton smiled, full of triumph. “I have a dealer, folks.”

Zara’s mouth gaped open. “No—”

Heath held up a hand. “Stop talking.”

She breathed out.

“You don’t have a dealer who will say that, because that never happened. Stop fishing, Detective. It’s a waste of time.” Heath glanced at a well-used watch on his wrist. “So far, you’re just wasting our time and courting a false arrest lawsuit. Maybe harassment.” His nostrils flared.

Norton leaned to the side of his chair and reached into a briefcase. “Well, we did find this.” He tossed a see-through bag onto the table. It fell with a loud thunk and bounced once.

Zara squinted at a knife covered with what looked like crusty blood. “What the hell?” she breathed.

“I’m betting the farm that it’s the murder weapon.” Norton smiled. “We’ve tested the blood, and results should be back soon.”

“So?” Heath asked.

“So? We executed a search warrant last night on your client’s home, and we found the knife hidden in her bedroom closet beneath several boxes of shoes. In fact, the knife was found in a box of those fancy Manwelloo Blonkers, or whatever they’re called.”