“Detective Fowler,” he said, answering the call.
Chance barely restrained the urge to run outside and get in his car and drive. He had to find her. But he had no idea where to start. As much as he despised the idea, he needed Fowler’s help.
“I will keep you advised,” Fowler was saying. When he ended the call, he looked at Chance. “That was Mrs. Harris. She’s concerned because her husband left the house hours ago and has not returned. He was in a rage. She’s worried…”
Which meant he wasn’t at their house. Damn it. “That he might hurt someone?” Chance demanded.
Fowler let out a big breath. “She has no idea.”
Of course she didn’t. “We need to go to the cottage,” Chance ordered. “He might take her there. Maybe his fear that her conviction will be permanently overturned has him bent on revenge.”
“Hold on.” Fowler held up a hand as he made another call. He ordered a detail to the cottage and to Rory’s house on Tupelo Pike. He put his phone away then. “I think we will be better served to wait until we hear back from the officers I’ve just sent to the locations of interest in this case.”
Except…Chance realized…he’d forgotten one place. “Mr. Harris has stayed in the background since Rory was released. But tonight, after the news about Carter’s murder, he’s suddenly making a strange and unexpected move.”
Fowler frowned. “We should have someone going to Carter’s trailer too.”
“I’m going.” Chance was walking toward the exit before he finished the words.
Fowler hustled to catch up with him. “I’m going with you.”
Chance shot him a look but didn’t slow. He wasn’t sure about this guy. Whether he just failed to do the job or had some reason for suppressing evidence. Either way, Chance didn’t trust him completely.
“I’ll meet you there,” Chance said, not taking the risk.
He burst through the exit and ran to his car. He was out of the parking lot before Fowler had made his way to his own vehicle. He raced across town as fast as he dared. Without Fowler in the car with him, if he was pulled over, he would have a hell of a time convincing the officer to let him go.
He would be lucky if Fowler didn’t sic a traffic cop on him. All the more reason to get out of town as quickly as possible.
A margin of relief came when he made the turn onto Old Larkinsville Road. Once he was over the railroad track, he sped up, took the curves as fast as he dared. It took longer than he would have preferred, but soon enough Carter’s place came into view. The SUV belonging to Harris was there. Chance wanted to be relieved, but he wouldn’t be until he had eyes on Rory and saw she was okay.
He pulled over onto the side of the road, left his car and started for the trailer. He spotted another vehicle parked on the other side of the big black SUV. Smaller SUV. White in color. He looked toward the place where Shane Carter had lived and died.
Someone besides Rory and Anthony Harris was in there.
Carter Residence
Old Larkinsville Road
Scottsboro, 10:30 p.m.
“What are you doing?”
Rory’s gaze shot to the door and to the woman who had made the demand. Eudora stood there glaring at her husband.
Anthony looked up at her from the seat he’d taken on the bed. Rory sat next to him. He’d lapsed into sobs, and she had tried to comfort him. The gun lay on the floor at his feet. He’d admitted to killing Shane.
“He knows I didn’t kill Pete,” Rory explained, some part of her feeling vindicated. “It was Shane.”
Eudora’s face twisted in equal parts fury and disgust. “What is she talking about?”
The demand was directed at her husband.
“It wasn’t her,” Anthony said, scrubbing his forearm across his face.
She stormed up to him and slapped him hard across the face. Rory reared back, assuming she would be next.
“We both know it was her,” Eudora roared. “Her prints were on the knife.”
