“And they think Garrett killed him?”

  “Don’t you watch television? It’s been all over the news.”

  “Television’s for wankers.” She touched her nose stud. “Can’t trust anything anyone says on it.”

  “Well, he’s in jail.”

  She furrowed her brow. “How long have you been dating?”

  “Not long,” I admitted. “But I’m on his side. I know he’s a great guy. I’m working with the police to clear his name.” She didn’t need to know that I wasn’t officially working with the police.

  She stood there looking at me for a moment, her face still not giving away any emotion. “Then you should probably check out the secret basement and the rando that comes through here every once in a while. Might be related.”

  “What rando? What’s a rando?” I asked but she was already at the front door. “Can you help me?”

  “Uh, no.” She turned the handle and walked out.

  Rude.

  I huffed over to the door I assumed led to the basement and shook the handle. Locked.

  I slid my fingers over the top of the doorframe. No key. I rummaged through the drawers in the kitchen. Nothing.

  I texted Shayla.

  Do you know what a rando is?

  She texted back in seconds.

  you don’t know what a rando is

  No, that’s why I’m asking you.

  it’s what we call someone random. someone we don’t know

  By ‘we’ she meant people younger than me, people her age.

  Thanks.

  Not that that helped me in any form or fashion. I hadn’t seen anyone but the cops and the housekeeper here. No randos to be found.

  why

  No reason.

  uh-huh ok……

  I ignored her and shoved my phone back into my back pocket. I needed to get to the bottom of all of this.

  20

  My knock was heavy on the solid wood door that probably cost more than my car. Like most places, Prairie City had its upper, middle, and lower economic classes—and the homeless, of course—but this area, the neighborhood surrounding Golden Rock Trail, was home to a higher-than-usual upper echelon of society. It was the ultra-ritzy where many of the wealthiest people in Colorado lived if they wanted to be a bit removed from the Denver metro area.

  I knocked again, and a woman who looked to be in her mid-fifties opened the door a crack.

  “Can I help you?” Her voice sounded like she’d just woken up even though it was mid-day and she had a full face of makeup and perfect wavy brown hair.

  “My name’s Rylie. I’m a park ran—”

  “Yes, I know who you are.”

  “The snake video?”

  She shook her head. “Tinder.”

  “But, uh—”

  “Not for me, for my son. I swiped right, I haven’t heard back from you. I didn’t expect you to show up on my doorstep though.”

  “I’m not here about Tinder. I’m actually seeing someone.” My mind was reeling. I tried to gather my thoughts. “Can I ask you a few questions about something that happened on the trail the other—”

  “This again? The cops already asked me a bunch of questions. I didn’t see anything.” She tried to shut the door in my face, but I’d wedged my flip-flopped foot into the jam.

  “Ouch,” I said.

  “Well, you shouldn’t put your foot in people’s doorways. Now get out of here.” She looked around behind me as if she thought someone might attack in this ritzy neighborhood. “I don’t need any extra attention coming my way. If you and your guy don’t work out, check out my Elijah.” She tried to shut the door again.

  “I really need to know if you saw anything that might help,” I pleaded. “The police have the wrong man. I need to find out who did this.”

  She opened the door a bit wider. “It’s bad enough all of this crime ended up in my backyard. I don’t need to be the next one missing a head.”

  “So you did see something?”

  “Course I did.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what you saw.”

  She looked scared as she searched the empty street behind me. “Fine.” She motioned for me to come inside. “Hurry up.”

  I took a step inside before she slammed the door behind me. I was greeted by a huge expanse framed by two staircases on either side of me, a gigantic picture window overlooking Golden Rock Trail, and a life-size autographed photo of Eli Hudson mounted on the living room wall. Apparently, everyone was a fan.

  “I’m Marlene.” She held out her hand in the daintiest of ways.

  I shook it carefully. “Thank you for talking to me.”

  “I’ve kept this all bottled up for so long. It’s probably best I talk to someone. Are you going to tell the police?”

  “Do you want me to tell the police?” I asked.

  “I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s not as if I did anything wrong.”

  “That is true.” I didn’t really know if keeping information from the police was considered a crime, but it probably wasn’t exactly moral.

  “Come with me. Early every morning, before the sun comes up, I sit on my porch watching for wildlife. That day I watched as two thugs murdered that scrawny little man.”

  “Two thugs?” I asked. My insides clenched.

  She nodded. “Both looked like they were big enough to be linebackers.”

  “Broncos fan?”

  “My son plays for them,” she said pointing at the photo of Hudson. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t know what a linebacker was.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re Eli Hudson’s mother?” I stopped in my tracks. Now that I knew it, I could see the resemblance. Mostly around the eyes.

  “Of course. What woman would have a huge photo of a random football player framed in their living room?”

  I could name a few.

  “I actually met him a few days ago. Not that he’d remember. It was just at a signing. Does he know you’ve put him on Tinder?” And he was matched with me? My heart did a little flip-flop.

  She looked at me, tapping her slippered foot on the hardwood floor.

  “Sorry. You were saying?”

  She nodded and continued out to the enormous deck suspended onto the back side of the house. “I was here”—she pointed to a chair—“and they were there”—she pointed to the trail where we had found the body.

  “Wasn’t it dark? How did you see anything?” I asked.

  “Porch lights. Everyone leaves their back deck lights on at night. It lights the path up really well.”

  “Can you tell me exactly what happened? From the beginning?”

  “It was quite odd. The one—Boy Boy, I’m assuming—carried the gun with one hand and pulling the scrawny man along with the other.”

  “And what was the other large man doing?”

  “He followed along. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it didn’t seem to make Boy Boy very happy.”

  For not wanting to talk, this lady sure was doling out some serious information. “Go on.”

  “So they got to right there”—she pointed at the spot in the trail where we’d found the body—“and I knew something was going to go down. I grew up in the hood—the only little white girl on the block. I’ve seen my fair share of bad things.”

  My mind struggled to reconcile the image of this woman growing up in the hood and the woman sitting before me. The one who looked and spoke like she could be headmaster at a preparatory school.

  “Is that when Boy Boy shot him?” I asked.

  “Well, first they fought a bit. It looked like the big white guy was trying to stop Boy Boy, trying to talk reason into him. But then it looked like Boy Boy might shoot them both so the big guy got out of the way and Boy Boy shot the scrawny guy.” She took a breath. “The white guy didn’t watch him shoot the scrawny guy but had a blanket with him and covered the dead guy with it before following Boy Boy back from where they came.”

  “And where was that?”

  She pointed to a row of trees behind which sat the parking lot where I’d first met Garrett little more than a week before.

  “Did you call the police at this point?”

  She turned and walked back into the house. “I thought about it. But right after he killed the scrawny guy, Boy Boy looked up, and I think he saw me watching. He pointed his gun in my direction as a warning, I’m sure because there’s no way he would have hit me from such a long distance with such a tiny gun.”

  There was the hood talking.

  “So I did what I did when I saw things go down in the hood. I minded my own business. The guy was dead. There was nothing I could do to save him. And if I’d tried, I might have ended up with my own head missing like that girl they found at the other reservoir.”

  She likely didn’t know that only a few minutes after she saw Boy Boy kill the boy, he had died himself.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate you speaking with me.” I wasn’t sure if this exonerated Garrett, but it certainly made it sound like Garrett was in the right. If it was him there with Boy Boy in the first place.

  “Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?” she asked hustling to the kitchen. “I don’t have company very often.”

  I hesitated. I really needed to speak to the Three Amigos before the sun got too high and the fish stopped biting, but the sadness in her eyes gave me pause. “Coffee, please. But just one cup.”

  Her face lit up. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Yes and double yes,” I said. She poured us each huge mugs of steaming coffee from her fancy stainless steel coffee pot. “Thank you.”

  “So you said you met Eli? How was he? A gentleman, I hope?” She led me into the living room where oversized leather chairs looked like they hadn’t been used—well—ever.

  “I did. But like I said, he probably doesn’t remember—”

  “Of course I remember you,” a booming voice from behind me nearly made me spill my coffee down the front of my white tank top. “How could I forget Prairie City’s very own snake wrangler?”

  He plopped a kiss on his mom’s cheek, and she beamed up at him. As for me, it was all I could do not to let my jaw hang open. He was even more handsome out of uniform. His sleek physique and wavy brown hair, just like his mom’s, looked photoshopped even though he was standing right in front of me.

  “I’m sorry I scared you.” His laugh was almost silent—a whisper. But it made his green eyes squint a tiny bit at the edges.

  “How did you get in? I have a security system.”

  “You’re going to have to change the code from my birthday if you want to keep me out.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and came back to sit on the couch across from us. “Is Dad away on business again?”

  Marlene nodded. “I keep trying to get him to retire, but he’s worried we’ll fall back on hard times.”

  “I’d never let that happen,” Eli said. “I’ll talk to him. He shouldn’t be leaving you alone, especially with all the crime around here. Maybe we should look at getting you a different house. Somewhere safer. Like Cherry Creek?”

  “I have enough firepower in this house to protect the entire population of Prairie City. Not that they need it now that that criminal is dead.”

  She sure talked a big game in front of her son. When I’d first arrived, she looked like a scared old woman.

  “Okay, Mom.” Eli held his hands up in surrender. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Thank you, darling.” Her smile was the same one I got from my mother when I told her I’d ironed my laundry. Pure love and pride.

  “We’re being rude.” Eli turned to me. “Rylie, was it?”

  He remembered my name?

  “Yes.”

  “What brings you to my mother’s house?”

  A fake Nikki giggle escaped my lips and was instantly disgusted with myself. “Sorry. Um, I was just here—”

  “She wanted to ask about the murder I saw.” Marlene took another sip of her coffee.

  “You saw a murder?” Eli’s eyes widened as he looked from his mother to me and back again.

  “Yep.” She put the mug down on a stained glass tile coaster. “If you came around more often, I’d be able to tell you these things.”

  “Have you spoken to the police about it?” He asked his mother then turned to me. “You’re not a cop, right? You’re a park warden or something.”

  “Park ranger, and no, she hasn’t spoken with the police.”

  “We have to speak to the police immediately.” He pulled his mom up to a stand. “We’re going down to the station to tell them everything.”

  Great. So Luke would know Garrett was for sure with Boy Boy. Heck, he’d probably even get Marlene to identify him.

  “I know the police. I work with them a lot. I could pass along the information.” I hated lying, but I wanted—needed—more time to figure out what was going on.

  Marlene patted her son on the hand. “Rylie’s a good one. She has it under control. Plus, I don’t want to go down to any gross police station.”

  Eli seemed torn. He probably knew the right thing to do was to take her down, but for some reason, he looked like he wanted to trust me.

  I stood and walked towards the door. “Thank you so much for the coffee, Mrs. Hudson. And thank you for speaking to me. I hope it will help get an innocent man out of jail.”

  “That man I saw on the TV?” Marlene asked.

  “Yes. I don’t think he really killed Boy Boy,” I said.

  “Oh, well I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m sure he did,” she said.

  “What? Why?” I asked.

  Eli stood off to the side taking all of this information in.

  “Because he was most definitely the man who was with Boy Boy that day. And when Boy Boy shot that scrawny guy, that other man looked murderous.” She frowned. “I’m guessing he did it not too long after I saw Boy Boy fire that gun.”

  No. She couldn’t be sure it was Garrett. From her deck and in the dark, it was impossible to make out the details of someone’s face.

  “Didn’t I see you with him at the meet and greet?” Eli asked, the puzzle pieces seemingly coming together in his mind. “He’s an assistant or something right?”

  “Accountant,” I replied. “And yes. I was with him. We were—are—dating.”

  It looked like Eli’s shoulders dropped a bit, but maybe I was starting to see things.

  “Oh, honey. You don’t want to date murderers. Even the ones that get rid of other murderers. They’re still pretty bad.” Marlene patted me on the shoulder.

  I shook my head. There’s no way he could have killed anyone. Even another murderer.

  “Love is blind.” She followed me to the door. “Would you please come back again for coffee? We can watch for thugs off my deck.” She whispered the last part in my ear so Eli couldn’t hear.

  “That would be lovely. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.”

  “Marlene. You have to call me Marlene now. We’re friends.”

  Eli Hudson’s mom was my friend. This could easily be the weirdest day I’d ever lived.

  “Okay, Marlene. Thank you. I’ll see you again soon.” She waved as I walked back to Cherry Anne.

  The sun was high in the sky making the changing leaves on the Aspens glisten. The three amigos would definitely be leaving their fishing spots soon. I revved the engine and put it in gear before I heard a tap on my window.

  Eli’s face stared into my car. I hit the roll down button and put the car back in park. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Eww, what’s that smell?” he said taking a step back.

  “What smell?” I asked sniffing the air like Fizzy always did. “I can’t smell anything.”

  “Maybe it’s out here,” he sniffed, made a face, and then shrugged. “You’re not going to tell the police what my mother told you are you?” Even up close his skin was so smooth, I’d think it had been retouched.

  “Why would you think I’m not?”

  “Because you obviously care way too much about this Garrett guy everyone’s been talking about. And my mother’s statements could probably secure his time in jail, couldn’t it?”

  I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to tell him outright I had no intention of telling the police what Marlene had said.

  “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll just take my mom down to the station—”

  “Can you give me a few days? Then you can take her down. If Garrett is the killer, he’s in jail anyway. It’s not like a few days will do any harm.”

  Eli thought about this for a minute. “I’ll give you two days,” he said. “Then I’m taking her down to the station.”

  Two days wasn’t much, but it was all I had. “Deal.”

  “And thank you, by the way, for hanging out with my mom. She’s been really lonely lately.”

  “Maybe you should hang out with her more often,” I said, still a bit irritated that he was trying to oust Garrett as the murderer.

  “I would, but I can’t. With practice and all of these games, I barely have time to shower and eat.”

  “Well, it was my pleasure. You have a wonderful mother.” I put the car back into gear. “Now if I may? I have to go find a killer.”

  “Maybe you should let the police—”

  The rest of his sentence was drowned out by Cherry Anne’s engine and the squeal of her tires as I drove away.

  21

  The Three Amigos were packing up their fishing gear when I pulled into the parking lot of Golden Rock Pond. It was practically empty minus a few trailers and pickup trucks.

  I waved as I parked next to their old pickups with Vietnam Veteran license plates.

  “Hey guys,” I said stepping out of the car.

  “Sweet ride, young lady,” the black guy with white hair, a white mustache, and an eyepatch said.

  “Thank you. We’ve never met before, but I’m Rylie Cooper. I’m one of the summer park rangers for Prairie City.”

 

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