“What about the unidentified fibers?” Chance tossed out. “Any more theories on that evidence you did find at the cottage?”
“We’ve talked about that already, Mr. Rader,” Fowler tossed back. “There’s nothing new related to the carpet fibers Rory or her husband could have picked up anywhere.”
“So you’re not going to listen,” Rory accused. “Exactly like before. You never followed through. Just accepted that I killed my husband when I had zero reason to want to hurt him. For God’s sake, what was my motive?” She wanted to shake him. To scream. But it would do no good.
His gaze bored into Rory’s. “Drugs can do that, Ms. Harris.”
She stood, unable to listen to any more.
Chance stood as well. “Appreciate your time, Detective,” he said before following Rory from the office.
She stormed out of the building, away from the department that had let her down so completely when her husband was murdered and would no doubt do it again. Pete deserved justice, by God. She climbed into the passenger seat of the car and steamed.
The anger suddenly gave way to defeat and regret and so many other emotions she could barely hold back the tears.
When Chance slid into the driver’s seat, she turned to him, her soul aching. “I need to go to the cemetery. I haven’t been there since I got home.” She needed to be close to Pete for a minute.
He nodded. “I’ll take you there now.”
Rory sank deeper into the seat. She was so tired of fighting a losing battle. So disgusted with the lack of support from anyone except Chance and the Colby Agency. With effort she steadied her resolve. She could not give up. Not until she found the truth and the people responsible for her husband’s murder were behind bars.
She suddenly wondered whether, she sat face-to-face with the man who assaulted her, she would recognize him. The one in Limestone Correctional Facility was the one who assaulted Alita Whitmore and the woman in Fort Payne. He could be the one.
“Are we going to that prison?” She looked to the man driving. If anyone could get her in to see that scumbag, it was Chance.
“We’re going to try.”
The thought filled her with sudden uncertainty. If they were right, Hill could hold all the answers. If they were wrong…then they were back to square one, and there was nothing in square one.
The notion of starting over was a physical pain in her being.
Either way, she had no choice but to continue. If she failed, she would undoubtedly be going back to prison. She couldn’t find the truth there…she couldn’t go back. Did the truth no longer matter to anyone but her?
How could Pete’s parents believe she had killed him? Why didn’t they at least want to look into the alternative? To be certain.
More painful to consider, why would anyone want to hurt her or Pete? If Chance was right, and she felt sure he was, what had she or Pete done to warrant murder? Right now, there appeared to be no other motive for what happened.
Which left only the conclusion that maybe Pete was the target since he was murdered and she was left alive. Whether for something he knew or had done or possessed or just to punish Rory. She had to find that truth.
But Louis Larson insisted there were no business issues at the time. Was it possible her husband had a terrible secret Rory didn’t know about?
She didn’t want to believe such a thing. Determination soared through her. She would not believe it. Not until she had no other choice.
Cedar Hill Cemetery
Cedar Hill Drive
Scottsboro, 1:00 p.m.
Rory knelt nextto her husband’s grave and traced the words engraved on his black granite headstone. Beloved Husband and Son. The ache in her chest made her lips tremble. How had it been more than two years since she had stood right here and sobbed like a baby over this sweet man as his coffin was lowered into the ground?
Chance knelt next to her. “It’s a beautiful place.”
It was. Pete’s parents had bought plots in this cemetery long ago when the most beautiful locations were still available. The branches of the grand old tree that stood nearby reached across Pete’s grave, lending shade in the long, hot Alabama summers. The bench beneath the tree had been added by his parents. She’d expected to come here often and visit, but that hadn’t happened because she had been in prison.
“They wanted him buried here.” She sat on the backs of her calves, suddenly too tired to hold herself up. “I never considered the ramifications. This is a single plot. Their double plot is on the other side of the tree. They wouldn’t have wanted me buried next to him if I had died too.” She laughed sadly. “I’m not sure what poor Austin and Lulu would have done with me.”
To occupy her hands, she reached out and pulled away a random weed from the base of Pete’s headstone. There were no flowers. His birthday would be coming up next month. She should get flowers. Eudora no doubt would. If she saw flowers from Rory, she would likely throw them away. Rory would need to put hers out early.
