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“A trooper did about an hour ago. No answer at the door, so he went inside. There were signs of a struggle. Know anything about that?”
“Nothing,” I said. “For all you know, Bell ordered Finn to kill Pedelini and is now running, making his house a mess so you’d think otherwise. But whatever. The fact remains that Finn shot at Pedelini and me. Test his rifle. I guarantee it will match the one that killed Sydney Fox.”
“You think Finn killed Sydney?” Frost said.
“I do,” I said.
“Why?”
“Spiteful ex-husband. Maybe more.”
They fell silent. Carmichael drank from a Diet Coke can. Frost sipped his coffee, said skeptically, “You make yourself out to be an innocent bystander.”
“With the attempt on Detective Pedelini’s life, most definitely. How is he, by the way?”
“In a medically induced coma,” Carmichael said. “Mild brain swelling.”
“Someone taking care of his daughters?”
“They’re covered,” Frost said.
I sat back in my chair confidently, said, “Then I’m not saying anything until Pedelini wakes up. You talk to him. He’ll back me up.”
The door opened, and Naomi entered, saying, “Not another word, Alex.”
“That’s already the plan,” I said.
“You charging him?” my niece snapped.
“Not at this time,” Frost admitted.
“Then I’d appreciate his release,” she said. “Dr. Cross is an integral part of my defense. He’s not leaving town. You’ll find him in Judge Varney’s court if you need him.”
Ten minutes later we slipped out the back door of the police station to avoid the television news crews and walked down the alley toward the courthouse in the dawn light. Part of me wanted to go home and get some sleep. Instead, I called Nana Mama, told her I was okay and would see her at the trial. I texted Bree to call me as we went to a café for breakfast with Pinkie.
I drank three cups of coffee, ate three eggs sunny-side up, bacon, and hash browns, and related everything that had happened to me during the night.
“Why would Finn Davis want to kill Guy Pedelini?” Naomi asked.
“Maybe Davis saw Pedelini as I do: an essentially good guy corrupted by circumstances,” I said. “Under duress, these kinds of people don’t hold secrets long before they break, confess, and implicate others.”
“So the sheriff, and then Pedelini?” Pinkie said. “You think someone’s trying to clean house?”
“If you add in the busted brake line of our car, it sure looks like it.”
“Someone’s under pressure,” Naomi said.
“Someone?” Pinkie said. “Try Marvin Bell.”
“Bell’s vanished,” I said.
“Which means we were getting close, right?” Pinkie said.
“Close to something. But it’s still like a jigsaw that won’t piece—”
My phone rang. A number I almost recognized but couldn’t place.
“Cross,” I said.
