Justice Delayed (Memphis Cold Case #1)(48)

After seeing Larry Ray Johnson’s pickup, somehow he had to talk Andi out of getting involved in Lacey Wilson’s case. If his hunch was right, and Lacey had been murdered, and if that same person had tried to kill the corrections officer by sabotaging his truck, this guy played for keeps.

Of course, he could be all wrong, but he rarely was. For Will, solving a crime was like putting a five-hundred-piece puzzle together. His brain seemed to know how the pieces came together.

Andi was waiting for him in her parents’ driveway when he pulled up. “I’ll follow you.”

He got out of his car. “About that. I don’t think this is a good idea. Reporters don’t belong at a crime scene.”

“Will Kincade, you promised.”

His heart sank. He had promised. But only if she got permission from Director Kennedy, and maybe that hadn’t happened. Before he could ask, she put her hand on his arm, her fingers sending electricity through his body.

“If Lacey’s case can shed light on my sister’s murder, you’re not going to lock me out of this. I promise, I won’t report it on the news, at least not until we catch the real murderer.”

“There is no we.” He didn’t blame Andi. If the roles were reversed, he’d want to be in on the investigation.

She stepped back. “Suit yourself. But it’s a free country, and I can go wherever I please. Director Kennedy has given me carte blanche with this case. See you on the nightly news.” She turned to walk away.

With Kennedy’s backing, she could do just what she said. She had him over a barrel. “Wait.”

If he let her work alongside him, he could at least keep her out of trouble.

She turned around, victory in her eyes. He was in a no-win situation, and she knew it. His mistake had been in taking her to Nashville in the first place. In more ways than one, judging by the way he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. “Come on, if you’re going with me.”

She ducked her head, but not before he saw the grin spread across her face.

“I better not hear one word about this investigation on the news.”

“I promise I won’t report anything until it’s over,” she said as she slid into the front seat.

“Your brother’s not going to like this,” he muttered.

“I can handle Brad.”

He didn’t know about that. “How’s your arm?”

“Still sore, thank you for asking,” she said. “What did you learn at the accident scene?”

“Part of the steering mechanism failed, and Johnson lost control of the truck.”

“So it was an accident?”

“Didn’t say that,” Will said, making a right turn onto the street where Lacey Wilson had lived. “The trooper has asked the TBI to take a look at the truck.”

When Will approached Lacey’s house, Brad’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Instead, a black Cadillac sat in the middle of the concrete drive like it owned the place. He called in the tag number to Emily.

“Whose car is it?” Andi asked when he hung up.

“It belongs to Laura Delaney.”

“I have an appointment with her tomorrow. Wonder what she’s doing here?”

“I don’t know.” Delaney couldn’t have missed the crime scene tape. “But I think I’ll find out.”

The front door was partially open, and voices floated down from the second floor. At least two people. “You stay here until I see what’s going on,” Will said.

Will slipped inside. Drawing his gun—just in case—he eased up the stairs. He wanted to see what they were doing before they realized they weren’t alone.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Keep looking. There has to be something.”

The district attorney was here with a man, and it sounded like her husband. He frowned at the snatches of conversation coming from the room. What were they looking for? From where he stood, a mirror reflected clothes strewn over the bed, and he holstered his gun.

“Police,” he said, rounding the corner into the bedroom and holding up his badge.

“Oh!” Laura Delaney clasped her chest.

Spencer jerked upright from the closet with a pair of shoes in his hands.

“Sergeant Kincade, you scared two years off my life!” Laura glared at him.

Will planted his feet. “This is a crime scene, Ms. Delaney. What are you doing here, and when did you arrive?”

“Crime scene?” she said. “We talked about this earlier. Lacey committed suicide. We just arrived and were getting clothes for her funeral.”

“Homicide hasn’t been ruled out.”

Laura dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “It’s not a homicide. She’s been depressed for years.” She turned to her husband. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yep,” Spencer said, and then slid his hands in his pockets.

He was about as talkative now as earlier. Will motioned them out. “For now it’s a crime scene, so you need to leave.”

She pointed to a gray crepe dress on the bed and the shoes. “May we take these clothes?”

He glanced over the simple dress and nodded, then followed them downstairs.

At the front door, Laura turned to him. “Keep me informed about this case, if you don’t mind. Lacey was a good friend, and if it is murder, which I doubt, I want the person responsible caught.”