Maybe they would find the person responsible.

  Addie was going to have to make a statement to the police. She’d have to admit she was receiving hang-up calls and had been since before she left Virginia. The man outside the window—she didn’t know if she should mention what might be a figment of her imagination.

  Being run off the road was definitely not the symptom of a lingering nightmare. Her car had the damage to prove it.

  So at least she knew coming home hadn’t resulted in some kind of mental break. She wasn’t going to wake up in a psych ward and be told she had cracked. Because Addie faced the fact that was everyone’s nightmare. And anyone who said that wasn’t a deep-seated fear was probably lying to themselves. No one was completely sane.

  “Okay?”

  She nodded. The fire chief seemed like a nice guy. “I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  “The fire started here. The blaze spread so fast it’s hard to tell.” The chief motioned to the wall. “Given there’s a gas can right here, it’s not hard to figure out the source.”

  “But he only burned this end of the building.” She frowned. “Instead of pouring it all around and killing us quickly when the whole place went up.”

  The chief shrugged. “We could surmise all day, but all we’d be doing is guessing at his intentions. Or hers.”

  She nodded. “It wasn’t designed to go up fast, though. Right?” Just enough to freak them out. To herd them to one end, so he could push insects to the main room and leave them trapped.

  It had taken minutes—and seemed like much longer—before they got to that spot where Jake could call Hank. They could so easily have died but found a way out and they were rescued. Not because they’d managed to save themselves, though.

  The fire chief studied the damaged exterior wall. “I’d say whoever did this had a strategy. What it was, might only be answered when we can question them about why.”

  “Addie!”

  She spun around so fast her head swam. Russ strode over, a thunderous look on his face that other people would assume meant he was angry. He was, but only because he was mad at being scared.

  He moved to her and kept coming. Until Addie was enveloped in a hug that choked her up.

  “I’ll give you two a minute.” That was the chief, but all she could see was the collar of Russ’s jacket that her face was smashed against.

  His hold was like being grabbed by a bear. After being abandoned by a mother who chased romance to and fro across the country, Russ’s hugs had been a comfort. But then, anything would’ve been. As much as she didn’t appreciate what that said about her being starved for affection, she figured it was okay given he was her uncle. They cared about each other.

  Russ shifted. “The chief told me what happened.”

  She couldn’t help frowning. “Did he tell you Jacob was behind the whole thing?”

  Russ flinched. “Was he?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “That’s my point. He was with me. He didn’t do any of this.”

  Of course, it could be argued he might’ve had an accomplice. But as with Ivan Damen, she still didn’t think that was likely. After all, one had never turned up after Damen was arrested fifteen years ago. Whoever saw a second person, it wasn’t Addie or Jake.

  It seemed like everyone thought Jake had criminal intentions. The captain had gone to him first for an alibi for that girl’s murder. Celia Jessop hadn’t even been autopsied before they were demanding to know his whereabouts.

  She couldn’t help but think they all had it in for him.

  Since Addie was predisposed to be on his side because he was her first love and everything they’d been through—even if their relationship hadn’t ended on the best of terms. It was hard not to jump in all the time and defend him.

  She was supposed to be a professional here, which was why she’d left town. So she could make a life for herself that wasn’t all wrapped up in her history and her emotions.

  “Come on.” Russ slung his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll give you a ride, and we’ll sort out your car later.”

  Addie grabbed her phone. She ensured the police were good with her leaving and then told Russ, “You can drop me at my office. I have work to do.”

  She’d missed her whole lunch break at this point.

  He frowned over the hood of his truck.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Toss that stuff in the back.”

  Addie saw what he meant when she opened the door. She didn’t throw the box of shotgun shells, but she did put them on the back floor. His heavy jacket on the seat. She wasn’t sure what to do with the one sock and the bag containing half a sandwich.

  “Wanna finish that?”

  She handed it to him. “I’m good.”

  Her throat was still raw from the smoke inhalation. Was Jake’s? Maybe she shouldn’t care so much when there was plenty of work to do. The police would find whoever set the fire. She had her job, and it didn’t involve doing theirs and getting distracted. Whether this was one in a series of coordinated attempts to hurt or scare her didn’t matter.

  But the idea she’d been herded to Jake’s studio stuck with her.

  If someone could do that and be so planned about their attack, what else had they caused her to walk into unknowingly?

  She shivered in her seat.

  Russ cranked the heat and pointed all the vents at her.

  “I’m good. I just need some hot tea at the office.”

  “Good idea.” He hit the gas and peeled out of the parking lot as though the building were still on fire. Except that was the way he normally drove. “Word to the wise?”

  He always phrased that statement like it was supposed to be a question. Addie said, “Sure.”

  “Be careful how vocal you are about standing with Jacob.”

  “Because of how the police view him?” She shifted in her seat. “Has he committed some crime I’m unaware of?”

  Russ said nothing, but she saw the shift of his throat.

  “Spit it out, Russ.”

  “They’re hauling him in for questioning over the death of Celia Jessop.”

  She opened her mouth to tell Russ there was no way Jacob did that. “Someone just tried to kill us. They’re choosing now to bring him in?”

  “It’s just questions. He isn’t in danger or under arrest.”

  Addie wanted to text him and tell him to ask for a lawyer, whether he was under arrest or not. Still, she couldn’t get in the middle of this if there was even a hint that he’d had anything to do with it.

  No way it would get far if this was only a case of police prejudice. Hank would make sure they moved on if it had no weight, and no prosecutor was going to take a case with no evidence.

  She had a lot of faith in people she didn’t know well, some of whom she didn’t know at all. That thought only made her want to push her way into the police department and ruin her tenuous relationship with the cops here. Justice was one thing. But whoever wielded that gavel had to be blind otherwise bias entered the equation.

  They weren’t going to put up with her for long if she stuck her nose in what they thought was their business.

  She had her own cases to work, and someone targeting her. “Whoever set that fire”—she glanced out the front window—“they knew what Jake and I went through. They knew exactly what triggers to pull.”

  Russ glanced over.

  “And there’s a killer in town. He’s been operating for years, working on his skills. Figuring out how to cover it up. Escalating. Learning.”

  Not that Russ didn’t already know all that. She’d walked him through a lot of it when he visited her office. Still, maybe she needed to remind herself. Even though she’d nearly been run off the road, there were things to do. She wasn’t going to let some guy with an agenda to hurt her and maybe Jacob also, distract her from doing what she’d been brought here to do.

  Especially if that was his intention.

  “You think it’s the same person?”

  “It would be a serious coincidence, but I’m not about to rule it out.”

  “Good.” Russ lifted his chin. “If you need a hand with all those files, I’m happy to. Just as soon as I talk to Mona.”

  “What’s up with Mona?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Gotta pick her up from school. She got suspended this morning, but I made her wait when I heard you were hurt. So we need to swing by the school.”

  Addie blew out a breath. “What happened?”

  “Punched the head cheerleader. But they’ve been beefing for a while, so…”

  “Let’s go get her.”

  He frowned. “I’ll do it after I drop you off. You need to work.”

  Addie shook her head. “I can go in later. This is important.”

  It had been clear from the outset there was a reason she was here. Maybe more than one now that she’d been here for a minute. Sure, she had at least a dozen cases to read, but Mona was her little sister. It didn’t matter what was happening at work, her family needed to come first.

  Addie hadn’t been here for years.

  But she was here now.

  20

  Jacob could feel the simmering rage behind him. He didn’t turn, and the cop at his back didn’t shove him into the room.

  But it was close. “In here.”

  Jacob was surprised they didn’t shackle him to be paraded through the police station like the criminal half the cops in Benson thought he was. Didn’t matter which precinct they took him to, the reception would be the same. But they used the main station downtown—the building with headquarters upstairs.

  The one with Addie’s office at the front, across the hall from the police reception desk.

  Too bad they brought him in the back entrance so he couldn’t see it. Was she still at his studio? None of them had told him, and Hank didn’t get in the car.

  Jacob looked back at the hall but didn’t see his friend.

  Captain McCauley paused in the doorway. “Detective Maxwell won’t be conducting this interview.” An officer handed him a paper file and McCauley shut the door. “Take a seat.”

  Jacob was tempted to lean against the wall and not sit, just to be contrary. Instead, he pulled out the chair and settled across from the captain.

  He wasn’t interested in Hank getting in the middle of this. His friend didn’t need to have his career marred by an association with Jacob. At least not any more than it already was.

  Still, a little solidarity wouldn’t have been a bad thing.

  Hank’s hands might be tied so that he couldn’t step out of the boundaries of procedure and the oath he’d taken. Jacob didn’t want him to do that. He wanted any cop to be someone people could rely on to be honorable. That meant Hank not bending the law—even just to reassure him.

  Jacob was on his own here.

  “What can I help you with?” He figured he might as well begin as though he was doing them a favor. Not that he wasn’t well aware they’d love nothing more than to trap him into confessing to some crime.

  Celia Jessop’s murder.

  The captain opened his file and studied the contents. Probably waiting in the hope Jacob started talking just to fill the awkward silence.

  But Jacob didn’t see silence like that. There was usually some noise, some sign of life, if you listened closely enough for long enough. His cats. Traffic on the street below his apartment. He could hear officers in the hallway and a phone ringing—signs of life that were probably reassuring to the captain to know his people were close by.

  All designed to make Jacob believe he was on his own in here.

  Which he didn’t need to be. “Do I need a lawyer?”

  McCauley looked up. “You aren’t under arrest.”

  “So I’m free to leave at any time?”

  McCauley’s expression shifted a fraction. Jacob wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be an agreement or if the guy was displeased Jacob knew that.

  “You know, you guys are the reason I have to keep apprised of my rights.”

  McCauley lifted a brow. “Because you feel the police victimize you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Criminals often feel targeted by the police. Mostly I’ve found it to be down to guilt of the wrong you know you’ve done.” McCauley shrugged. “You go to church. I’m sure you’ve heard the pastor talk about conviction.”

  “And you’ve heard him talk about unjustly judging someone.” Jacob couldn’t help but fire that back. He didn’t have the energy to hold his tongue, probably something he should put that mention of church experience to work dealing with.

  He was just about to pray over that when McCauley said, “So how about you go over your whereabouts at the time of Celia Jessop’s death one more time. For my records.”

  Jacob considered his words before he spoke. The captain would try and get him flustered and reacting before he thought. That was the last thing Jacob needed to do, even if he had nothing to do with Celia’s death.

  Jacob shrugged one shoulder. “When did she die?”

  “Tuesday night.”

  “What time did you say?”

  McCauley paused. “Between one thirty and three thirty.”

  Jacob blew out a breath. “The last time I saw her and we talked was a couple of weeks ago.”

  “That was the conversation the boyfriend”—McCauley looked at his notes—“interrupted?”

  Jacob nodded.

  “Guess he sure got the wrong end of the stick.”

  Jake didn’t like the tone. He’d have fired something back, but whatever it was didn’t matter. McCauley had already decided he was guilty and lying about it.

  Though the town was contending with a killer who kidnapped high schoolers once a year. The police had everyone convinced they had the man in custody two weeks before Jacob and Addie went to theirs. It turned out that wasn’t the guy—and they were taken. He hadn’t been the accomplice either—just some guy designed to be a red herring.

  Then Becca Cowell had been killed.

  The police in Benson had been trying to repair the public’s trust in them ever since. Whether it was working or not was hard to say. A couple of outfits in town did private security work—one, Vanguard, was all women. He didn’t get involved in a lot of it.

  Jacob liked his solitary life.

  He realized the captain was just staring at him.

  “What?”

  McCauley stared. “Where were you when Celia was killed?”

  “Oh.” He frowned. “Sleeping, like I told you at my apartment. So why do you need me to tell you again?”

  He could think of a few reasons, and none flattered the captain and his ability to do his job. More likely McCauley had been there the other day to ask this same question with the express purpose of throwing Addie into Jacob’s private space and seeing how he reacted to her.

  Maybe McCauley figured he would snap. Kind of like right now.

  “New evidence has come to light.”

  “Oh?” Jacob frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about right now. What you need to worry about is telling me the truth. It might help explain this new evidence.” McCauley sighed. “So how about this. When we look at your computer—which we will soon enough—are we going to find photos of Celia Jessop?”

  “You get that I’m a professional photographer, right?” Jacob frowned. “Or do you think that’s just a cover so I can give in to some dirty secret you’re so certain I’m hiding?”

  “I guess we’ll find out as soon as the warrant comes through.”

  They were going to tear apart his entire life. “How about I save you some trouble?”

  “How’s that?”

  Jacob leaned forward slightly. “I. Didn’t. Kill. Her.”

  “I can see why you might want a judge to believe you were cooperative, so they can take that into account when murder charges are filed.”

  “Because you think all I’m trying to do is look good?” Jacob said. “Because I’m so guilty?”

  “You tell me.”

  The truth was, Jacob didn’t feel the need to plead his case. He could scream and cry over the injustice of being accused, but there would be no evidence he’d killed that girl. How could there be when he didn’t do it?

  “I was asleep.” Jacob shrugged one shoulder. “How could I have killed her when I didn’t leave my apartment?” He paused a second to wonder how diabolical the police thought he was since Hank was at his place for breakfast when Jacob had come back from the gym.

  “That only leaves the onus on me to prove you did.”

  That didn’t sound like a happy invitation. “I guess it does.” Jacob had to wonder—again—why they brought him in suddenly now. “Unless there’s some evidence I don’t know about.”

  McCauley nodded. “When you’re arrested, you’ll want to talk to your lawyer about trying to explain how your fingerprint is on a clear, sticky residue affixed to the victim’s abdomen.”

  “My fingerprint?”

  He nodded again.

  “On like, glue?”

  “You tell me.” McCauley paused. “It’s your print. A partial one, anyway.”

  “So not a print, but a bit of one that you think is mine?” That sounded inconclusive at best. “I haven’t seen Celia for two weeks where I was even close enough to touch her. Why wouldn’t she have taken a shower since?”

  “That might be an angle you want to take up with your lawyer. When you need one.” McCauley’s eyes flashed. For a second he looked pretty smug. “A partial match is still a match.”

  Jacob stood. If that were true, they’d have a warrant for his arrest already.

  All he wanted to do was go to Addie.

  Considering McCauley was right, and he would need a lawyer if the cops kept up with this, he should probably get on that first. Maybe Russ knew a good one—someone he’d hated as a former federal agent. Whoever it was would be a quality shark who might manage to keep Jacob out of jail.

  He needed to face the fact that was where the police wanted this to go. The place where he’d end up convicted of a crime he didn’t commit.

  And yet, the only person whose opinion he cared about was Addie. As long as she knew he hadn’t done it, that would enable him to face anything.

 

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