Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(43)

“Zach,” he yelled before walking away, leaving her standing there.

She peeked her head inside, watched the young man who had opened the door pick up a controller and take a seat on the couch next to another young man she didn’t recognize. A sweet scent drifted from the room to where she stood.

“Zach!” the other guy yelled when he saw her looking in.

“What do you want?” Zach shouted back as he came into view. “Hey,” he said when he spotted her at the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Aria Brooks from the SPCA. We worked together for a while.”

“I remember.”

“I was wondering if we could talk,” she said.

“What about?”

“I’d rather talk in private.”

“Inside or out?”

The inside of his house was small and cluttered. Beer cans and trash covered most of the tables. A hookah pipe sat on a side table next to the couch.

“Out,” she said.

He stepped outside and shut the door. She followed him to his truck, which was parked at the curb. He leaned against the tail end and said, “This is about as private as it gets around here.”

“I heard about what happened to your girlfriend.”

His head was down, his arms crossed over his chest. Aria’s belief in the goodness of people had eroded over the years. Right now, her cynicism was on high alert. She couldn’t think of one reason why she should beat around the bush. “It looks like you’re the number one suspect.”

He didn’t move a muscle.

“My sister is a crime reporter. She works for the Sacramento Independent. She saw you the morning after the murder. You were sitting in your truck, and she thinks maybe you were crying.”

When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were red and watery. “Maybe I was,” he said. “What’s it to you or your sister?”

“Where were you the night Kylie Hartford was murdered?”

“Are you with the police?” he asked. “Did they wire you and send you over here to talk to me?”

“No.”

“You’re a lawyer?”

She shook her head.

“Then why are you here?”

“For months I watched you work with animals, and I just thought you were a really kind human being. When I saw you were a suspect, I felt compelled to ask you all the questions my sister couldn’t because she’s out of town. So will you talk with me?”

He said nothing.

“If you’re arrested, I might be the only person, other than a court-appointed lawyer, who’s going to be able to tell your side of the story. Why are Kylie’s neighbors pointing fingers at you?”

He took a breath and looked around before saying, “The night before she was found”—he closed his eyes, took a breath, then opened them again—“we argued. I yelled at her. She shouted back. I left and slammed the door on my way out. It probably sounded worse than it was, but there’s no denying I was angry.”

“What were you arguing about?”

“Matthew Westover, an anchorman at Good Day Sacramento, where Kylie worked.”

Women adored Matthew Westover, but Aria didn’t understand the appeal. “Can you elaborate?”

“I knew she was going out for drinks after work with her coworkers, and I knew Westover might be there, but until that night I had no idea she was still fucking him.”

“She told you that?”

“Yes.”

“You said ‘still.’ This had been going on for a while?”

He nodded. “Matthew Westover wasn’t the first guy, and I knew he wouldn’t be the last. But I never stopped hoping that I would be enough for her.”

What the hell? Aria didn’t understand people. “Why did you stay with her?”

His eyes pierced Aria’s. “Because I loved her.”

Aria had never experienced that sort of love, and she was fine with that. But nobody could convince her that Zach Jordan wasn’t telling the truth. She could see the deep affection he’d had for Kylie in his eyes and scrawled into every line of his face. She asked one more question. She already knew the answer, but she asked anyway. “Did you kill Kylie?”

“No.”

“Where were you the night she was killed?”

“I was hoping I could stay away from her, punish her by not texting or calling. I was still mad about her being with Westover. I’m not proud of it, but after she got off work, I followed her to a book signing at the Sacramento Convention Center. After she disappeared inside the building, I drove to Device Brewery in Midtown and drank my sorrows away. They had to kick me out when they closed. Somebody got me to my truck, where I passed out. The next morning, I drove straight to Kylie’s apartment to tell her I loved her and couldn’t stand being apart for even one more minute. I was the one who found her.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I ran out of there fast, jumped in my car, and called 9-1-1.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sawyer pulled up behind a media van stationed outside the house where Isabella Estrada had grown up. The one-story ranch-style home appeared freshly painted. The yellow and pink rosebushes separating the house from the neighbors on both sides were in full bloom.