He led Grant down a hall and opened a door for him to proceed.
“It’ll be quieter in here,” said Mathews. “Go ahead and have a seat.”
Grant looked around the dank little interrogation room, already hating its dreary paint and two-way mirror. It reeked of fear, desperation, and stale coffee in here, but from Mathews’s neutral expression, he apparently didn’t notice the stink.
“I’ve read the police reports,” he told Grant without preamble. “Gotta say this whole thing looks like a hell of a mess.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Grant.
“We’ve got patrols going by the residences and businesses you listed, but I don’t think that’s going to be enough. We need to catch this son of a bitch.”
Right down to business. Grant liked the man already. “What can I do to help?”
“Why don’t we start with you telling me where you were last night between eight and midnight?”
Warning bells gonged in Grant’s head, making him frown at Mathews. He could see that frown in the mirror and wondered if there was anyone on the other side. “Is this an interrogation?” he asked.
“You know a reason it should be?” Mathews shot back. “Just answer the question.”
“I was with Isabelle. If you read the police reports, you know we didn’t get away from that restaurant until nearly ten. We went home.”
“Just the two of you? Anyone see you at home?”
“No. Dale was asleep.” Grant stood up, letting his body language tell the detective how pissed he was getting without words that could later be used against him. “What the hell is going on here?”
“We found Everett’s body this morning.”
Shock rolled through Grant, making him sway. He gripped the table to steady himself, bracing for the impact of the grief he knew would come next. He’d seen a lot of good men die, and even if he didn’t know them, he always felt a sense of loss for what could have been. Everett would never have a wife and kids. He’d never even get the chance to grow enough of a backbone to let Isabelle know how much he was crushing on her.
“He was getting out of town,” said Grant. “He was supposed to be safe.”
“Is that why you hurried up and killed him? Or was it all the photos he had of Isabelle that set you off?”
What the hell? Mathews thought he was the killer? “Whoa,” said Grant, holding up his hands. “You can’t believe I did this.”
“Have you ever been in his house?”
“No. I don’t even know where he lives.”
Mathews’s eyes brightened with excitement, which could not mean anything good for Grant. “Are you sure about that?” asked Mathews.
He couldn’t believe that he was a suspect. He’d put his life on hold to come out here and help. How could this guy actually believe he’d kill anyone?
Grant held his anger in check, but only barely. He really wanted to slam his fist into this guy’s smug grin. “Yes, I’m pretty fucking sure I’ve never been in the man’s house.”
“We found your prints there.”
“Bullshit you did.”
“You know I’m not lying. You were there, just like you were there for all of the others who you killed. Tell me, Grant, how did you make it look so convincingly like suicide?”
Grant turned his back on the guy to keep from punching him. “This is unbefuckinglievable. We come to you for help and this is the shit you think up?” He whirled around, his fists tight and longing for something to pummel.
“Was it really self-defense when you killed Lavine? Are these other killings some kind of way for you to finish what you started?”
Grant shook with the force of his anger. “Get your ass out there and check on Amanda. She was next on the list.”
Mathews nearly smiled. “Did you already get to her, too? Anxious for us to find the body so you can get your little thrill?”
“That’s it. If you won’t go check on Amanda and her daughter, I will.”
Grant started for the door, but Detective Mathews blocked his path. “You’re staying here until I say we’re done.”
“Are you charging me with something?” asked Grant.
“Is that a confession?”
“Fuck you,” ground out Grant.
Mathews leaned close, getting right into Grant’s face. He kept his voice so low that Grant was sure that if this was being recorded, the mic wouldn’t pick up his words. “It’s no wonder no one wanted you as a kid. You’re a murdering prick, and I’m going to see you fry.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Isabelle checked her cell phone messages after the last kid left for the day. Thirty seconds later, after listening to Grant’s message, she felt numb with shock.
Everett was dead. Grant was a suspect.
Grief for Everett welled up inside her, but she couldn’t deal with that now. Not when Grant was in trouble. She had to hold herself together long enough to do what needed to be done.
Then she could grieve for poor, sweet Everett.
Isabelle pulled in a shuddering breath and tried to concentrate on what to do. Her mind whirled at a million miles an hour, and nothing good came of it.
How could the police be so stupid? How could they ever think a man like Grant would hurt innocent people?
There was only one person she knew who might be able to help Grant.
Her hands were shaking when she dialed Keith’s number. He was the only defense lawyer she knew, and she didn’t know where else to turn.
“Isabelle,” he greeted her. She could hear the smile in his voice, and it helped calm her nerves a bit to know he was still safe and sound. “How are you?”
Isabelle skipped the pleasantries. “Grant’s being held by the police for questioning. They think he had something to do with the murders. Can you help him?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for so long Isabelle thought she might have lost the call. “Keith? Are you there?”
“Yes. Just thinking how best to handle this. I’ll go to him and see what I can do.” His voice was emotionlessly even.
“You think he did it, don’t you?” asked Isabelle, unable to believe Keith could turn on Grant like that. What the heck was wrong with the world?
“No. I still don’t think any of those deaths were murder, and that’s exactly what I’ll tell the police when I get there. It may not do any good, but I can try.”
“It gets worse, Keith.” Isabelle clutched the phone, fighting off the crushing weight of grief. She could barely bring herself to think about it, much less say it, and when she did, her voice trembled. “Everett is dead. He was murdered . . . strangled to death . . . it looked like a suicide, but I know it wasn’t.”
Again, silence filled the line.
“Keith?”
All warmth was gone from his voice. “I’ll meet you at the station, Isabelle.”
“You’re going to be able to fix this, right?” she asked.
“Let’s just see what evidence they have against him and go from there.”
Isabelle hung up the phone and rushed out of the school, stopping only long enough to let the office know she was leaving for a personal emergency. The cold March wind beat against her face as she raced to her car, helping to clear her head.
She had to keep it together for Grant. And check on Amanda. She was next on the list after Everett.
His shy smile filled her mind and tears welled in her eyes. She tried to shove the grief away again, but it broke through her resolve. Hot tears cooled on her face as she unlocked her car and slid inside. She wiped at her tears and dried her hands on her pants, trying to pull herself together.
She could do this. She could hold it together long enough to get Grant out of this mess. After all, it was her fault he was in it at all. He’d never have come here if she hadn’t left that message. She’d only meant to warn him, not get him into this kind of trouble.
When she started her car, it sounded odd, but she didn’t have time to worry about it now. It ran, and that was all that mattered.
Isabelle had just merged onto the highway when her cell rang. She fumbled to answer it, hoping it was Grant or Keith with some good news. “Hello?”
“Hey, Isabelle,” said Dale. “Grant was supposed to meet me at home to work on the security system, but he’s not here. And he’s not answering his cell. Know where he is?”
Isabelle didn’t want Dale to know about any of this mess, especially not now that Grant was a suspect. “Sorry. I can’t help you.”
“Are you okay? You don’t sound good.”
A catch jerked her voice. “I’m fine.”
She gripped the wheel hard, hoping Dale hadn’t heard the lie in her tone. Just as he started to speak again, the steering wheel locked up and Isabelle couldn’t move it. The car’s dashboard lights winked out and in front of her, the highway was clogged with stopping cars. Brake lights loomed ahead of her as traffic slowed for construction.
She dropped the phone as she eased off the accelerator and pressed the brake.
Nothing happened. Her car barreled down the highway toward all the stopped cars, and she couldn’t slow down or steer clear of any of them.
All she could do was brace herself as her car slammed into the back of another with a sickening crunch of metal and breaking glass.
Keith tried not to panic. His hands trembled as he drove to the police station, searching to find some sense of calm.
They’d found Everett too early. It was supposed to have taken days for anyone to find his body. Maybe weeks. Keith had been hiding in Everett’s house while he packed and heard him make the call telling his boss he was leaving town.
How had this happened? Who would have gone looking for him?
Even worse was the fact that if Grant was being held for questioning in Everett’s death, then there was a chance the police suspected that Everett hadn’t committed suicide. His death could be listed as homicide instead of suicide. Keith couldn’t let that happen. It would mess up everything. It would put the police on alert and make everyone more cautious.
It was hard enough waiting his turn without all the delays this would undoubtedly cause. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going, not when Lavine kept haunting him night after night.
Keith was going to have to step things up and move faster, even if it meant being less gentle with his brothers and sisters. The important thing was helping them escape their pain, even if doing so hurt a little.
He turned into the parking lot outside the police station and parked his car. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find when he went inside, and that bothered him more than a little. He was queasy, shaking—not at all as cool and collected as he needed to appear when facing the police.
Too bad Isabelle hadn’t been earlier on his list. Things would be a lot simpler if she hadn’t started nosing around. Then again, if she hadn’t suspected something, she never would have asked Grant to come here, making the task of freeing him much easier.
Keith had always worried about how he was going to gain access to Grant with him overseas so much of the time. He kept hoping that Grant would be killed in the line of duty, but he hadn’t, and now that he was here, Keith was sure that God or fate or whoever controlled the universe was on his side, because there was no way it was just dumb luck that he’d chosen to leave the military when he did.
