She shuddered at the thought. Hugged her arms around herself.
When they reached the steps that led to the porch, Chance hesitated. He turned to Rory. “The door is open.”
Her gaze shot to the door. It was partially open. Fear snaked up her spine. “Shane!” she shouted. “You home?”
Chance started up the steps. He held up a hand when she would have followed. He shook his head. Instead, she reached into her pocket and withdrew her cell phone, ready to call for help if there was trouble.
Could Rick Hill have managed a phone call to warn Shane?
Her heart thundered so hard in her chest she felt as if it might burst. Could he have taken off? If he had, they might never find him…might never be able to confirm the truth.
Chance pushed the door open wider. “Carter, you here?”
Rory held her breath as Chance disappeared into the trailer. What if Shane had gotten a call, and he’d rushed home to grab a few things before taking off? What if he had seen them pull up and was waiting to ambush Chance?
She rushed up the steps and through the door.
Then she froze.
Shane lay on his side on the kitchen floor, his back to her. She couldn’t see any blood. Had he fallen and hit his head? Passed out from some sort of medical episode?
“Is he okay?”
Chance walked around Shane and lowered into a crouch next to him. When he looked up at her, his face was grim. “He’s dead.”
Rory’s knees nearly buckled. Bile burned her throat. “How…” She swallowed at the tightness in her throat. “How did he die?”
Chance stood. “Stabbed.”
She dared to step closer and see for herself. The knife was large…like the bigger one found in those knife block sets. A quick survey of the counter confirmed her assumption. The block, one slot empty, stood ominously next to the sink.
Shane had been their last hope to find the truth. Now he was dead. How in the world would they ever make Fowler see how wrong he had been? She stared at the man she had known as shyand nice. Who would have killed him? His partner in crime, Hill, was sitting in prison.
“Rory.”
Chance’s voice sifted through the haze of disbelief and defeat shrouding her brain. She turned to him.
“We should go outside and call this in.”
She blinked. Another question suddenly overriding all else. “How long has he been dead?”
“Not long.” Chance nodded to the man on the floor. “The blood hasn’t even coagulated. His skin is still fairly warm. We need to get outside.”
Rory got it. They were contaminating a crime scene.
Once they were outside, leaving the door ajar just as it had been, Chance ushered her toward the rental car. He called 9-1-1. Rory stood next to the passenger door, her arms once again around her body.
Shane was dead…but was there evidence somewhere inside that could prove he had lied? That he had been at White Cottage the night Pete was murdered?
Would the police cover up any evidence they found inside now?
She had to go back in there and look.
When she started forward, Chance stopped her. “You can’t go back in there, Rory. The police will be here soon, and—”
She glared at him. “There could be evidence in there. Something that proves what he did.”
Chance nodded. “I know, but we can’t go back in. It’s too risky. We’re already going to be viewed as persons of interest just because we’re here.”
