Justice Delayed (Memphis Cold Case #1)(15)

“But he did it!” Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Your cousin still had the gun in his hands when Mom and I walked into the studio. He had blood on him—Steph’s blood—and she had a restraining order against him. He’s a violent person.” She held Will’s gaze. “Just what part are you having trouble with?”

“Look,” he said, “I didn’t mean to stir up trouble.”

Brad leaned forward. “Well, you have.” He turned to Andi. “But like Treece said, sit down and let’s hear Will out.”

“No!” Her brother’s calm voice threw gas on the fire raging in Andi. How could he sit there so calmly and want to hear anything that contradicted the evidence that Jimmy Shelton killed their sister?

It couldn’t be true. She’d focused for so long on Jimmy as Stephanie’s killer, her mind couldn’t accept that he might not be. A thought wormed its way past her anger. Why did Lacey suddenly want to see her after all these years? She’d wanted to tell her something about Steph. And if Lacey had been murdered, was it because she knew something? “I want to see this letter.”

“So do I,” Will said. “I plan to drive to Nashville tomorrow right after my meeting with David Raines in the Cold Case Unit.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m going with you.”

Will mimicked her action. “No, you’re not. I’m not sure I’ll go until I clear it with the lieutenant.”

She tried to stare him down, but Will wasn’t easily intimidated. “Will you let me know if you go?”

He hesitated and then finally nodded.

“Thank you.” If Will Kincade drove to Nashville in the morning, she’d be in that car.

“Okay, back to our case,” Brad said. “Have you remembered what the intruder said?”

“Diamonds.” The word popped out of her mouth.

“Diamonds?” Will repeated.

It all came rushing back to her. “He said I had diamonds that belonged to him. I tried to tell him he had the wrong person, that I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I couldn’t breathe, much less talk.”

Brad scratched his head. “Why would he think you have his diamonds?”

“I don’t know. If he’d looked around the apartment, he should have realized I didn’t have them.” To say her apartment was sparse was an understatement. “Could he have made a mistake and broken into the wrong place?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Brad said, “but tomorrow we get you two set up with a security system. Mrs. Casey too. When is she back in town?”

“She’s planning to stay with her daughter a couple of weeks,” Treece said. “I’ll call her.”

“You think you can get one installed that fast?” Andi asked.

“I hope so, because I’m spending the night here until you have one.” Her brother gave her a look that dared her to contradict him.

Unexpectedly, Andi’s heart warmed at his offer. “You’ll give up your comfortable bed for my couch?”

“Ouch. I hadn’t thought about that . . .” A grin spread all the way to his eyes. “I’m not leaving you and Treece unprotected.”

“If you have an air mattress, I’ll keep Brad company,” Will said.

She blinked back tears. It was hard to believe these were the same two who years ago had locked her in what later became Stephanie’s studio so she couldn’t tag along to their ball game. She cleared her throat. “Sorry, no air mattress.”

Will’s shoulders drooped.

“I have one,” Treece said. “I’ll get it, then we’ll go across the hall and set up everything.”

Andi didn’t argue, and ten minutes later she was settled in her recliner while they worked on getting everything set up. The headache had ebbed after she’d eaten, but it was now back with a vengeance. She took a tablet from the pill bottle she carried, then hesitated. The prescription said one or two as needed for pain, and one wasn’t doing the job. After swallowing two pills, she leaned back and waited for the pain to ease.

Once the air mattress was inflated and sheets put on it, Treece dusted her hands. “Done. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll go with you and secure your doors and windows,” Will said. “Then we’ll leave the doors to both apartments open.”

Andi glanced at the clock. “Wait, the news is on. Our segment on runaways airs tonight. Let’s watch it together.”

“And sit where?” Treece said.

Andi really did need to do something with her apartment. Other than the recliner and sofa that now had sheets on it, she had one stool at the bar where she normally ate and a chair at the table where she usually worked at her computer.

“Drag the chair from the table over here by me, and they can sit on the floor,” Andi said, nodding toward the men. Treece rolled her eyes but did what Andi said, and she clicked on the TV just as the ten o’clock anchor welcomed the viewers.

A twinge of jealousy pierced Andi’s heart. Snagging an anchor spot was her goal, Treece’s too, but she didn’t see one opening up anytime soon at the station. The investigative pieces they did together were going to get them noticed and into bigger markets.

Fifteen minutes into the news, their segment with Andi interviewing a girl of sixteen aired. She was in silhouette with her voice disguised, and under Andi’s questioning, she told how she started doing drugs at thirteen and ran away from home when she was barely fourteen. At the end of the segment, she thanked Andi and Treece for rescuing her from the streets.