“I would never have hurt Pete,” she said softly. “It wasn’t me.”
His eyes flew open once more. “Yes. It was you. If you hadn’t come into his life, my son would still be alive.”
Hurt twisted inside her. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was her fault.
“I’m sorry.”
He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the kitchen. Heart pounding, she stumbled past where Shane had been stabbed to death.
She understood now. He was going to kill her. Tears welled in her eyes.
He forced her into a narrow hall, past a bathroom and a bedroom, to a room where the hall ended.
He shoved her into the room and turned on the light.
“Look!” he ordered, gesturing to the floor with the weapon.
She stared downward where old, worn carpet—probably original to the decades-old trailer—covered the floor. Shag carpet. The colors were faded, but there was no denying what they were…blue andgreen. Understanding settled in. These were the green and blue fibers found in the bed where she was assaulted and on Pete’s shirt.
This was the evidence that had been suppressed…the single piece of evidence that proved someone besides Rory and Pete had been in the cottage that night.
She looked to Anthony. “Then you know.”
He nodded. “I’ve known from the beginning.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Scottsboro Police Department
South Broad Street
Scottsboro, 9:40 p.m.
Rory was not in the police station. Anywhere.
The parking lot was empty.
Chance’s car was still there. He’d had the fob anyway. She couldn’t have taken it if she’d wanted to.
Detective Fowler walked toward him. Chance wanted to punch the guy. If he had not insisted on interviewing them separately, this would not have happened.
Fowler explained, “Officer Ridley said Ms. Harris was approached by an older man and shortly after left with him. The video surveillance footage showed she left with Anthony Harris.”
“Are there cameras in the parking lot?” Chance asked, worry making his blood pump faster through his veins.
“They turned left out of the parking lot, which doesn’t help a lot.”
Fury slashed through Chance then. This was way beyond the pale. “You and I both know she did not kill Pete Harris. We also know, based on a meeting with Rick Hill, that he killed Pete Harris and was working with someone he considered untouchable, protected. In other words, a cop.”
“You have no proof of any of that,” Fowler argued. “You’re speculating.”
He sounded more like a lawyer than a damned detective. “Trust me, Fowler, unless Hill ends up as dead as Carter, he’ll roll over on the guy as soon as he hears he’s dead. Whatever happened that night, Carter is going to take the fall for everything. The headlines won’t do a lot for your department or the sheriff’s department.”
“I’ve already issued a BOLO on Anthony’s SUV.”
Chance almost laughed. It was about time the guy did something right. “We should go to the Harris home and see if he took her there.”
Fowler frowned. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone. Every instinct Chance had elevated to high alert.
