CHAPTER TEN
Selena stood beside the evidence board with one arm folded across her middle and the other hand near her chin.Three desks, two filing cabinets, a long table, and a whiteboard took up too much space.Printed crime scene photos had been taped up with more care than skill.Red string waited in a box on the table, unused for now.
The photographs did the real work.
Warren Holt at the hunting lodge.
Victor Schmidt in his armchair.
Two men.Two bullets.A blank letter left.No weapon at Victor’s house.No forced entry.No sign that the dead man had known death was standing close enough to touch him.
Connor stood in front of the board with a paper cup in his hand, staring at Victor’s photograph.He had not moved in several minutes.The cup sagged where his fingers pressed into it.His hat sat on the table behind him.
Arnold was at the rear desk, phone tucked against his ear, one hand pressed over the other side to block out noise that did not exist.His voice stayed low, almost tender.That told Selena he was not speaking with another deputy.
Connor kept looking at Victor.
Selena watched him instead.
The Sheriff's shoulders were squared, but too rigid.His jaw worked once, then stopped.That worried her more than tears would have.Men like Connor often made the mistake of treating grief as something they could discipline.In a homicide case, grief had teeth.It made people skip steps and hear guilt in the wrong voice.
But Selena knew Connor.In the fifteen years since their marriage ended, he may have been able to create the facade of change, but that dangerous edge to him was still in there.It had been obscured by the badge and his desire to throw himself into duty.But nonetheless, it was still there.And the death of his friends was bringing it to the fore.He had a look in his eyes.A look no one else would have seen but her.A look she saw many times when they were high school sweethearts and then a married couple.
A look that meant he was just one push away from losing it.
If Connor became a liability, she would have to say so.She might even have to force him back from the case.The Bureau had not sent her to Harlan County to protect his feelings.Two men were dead.If the same person had killed both, there would likely be more unless they moved fast and stayed careful.
Still, the idea of putting that line between them made something tighten under her ribs.
Victor’s dead face looked out from the board.Warren’s hand rested near the blank page.
The killer was not finished speaking.She could feel that much.
Connor’s coffee cup creaked.
Selena said, “You know that coffee must be cold by now.”
Connor blinked, then looked down as if surprised to find the cup in his hand.He lifted it, took a sip, and winced before turning half toward her.
“Do you always have to be right?”he whispered.
The words came out sharper than the volume suggested.
Selena did not take the bait.The old version of her might have.Fifteen years ago, she would have sent something back twice as fast.Now she only held his gaze and waited.
Connor’s expression changed almost at once.
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.”He crossed to the table and put the cup down.
A small breath left him.Not a laugh.Not quite.“I just can’t believe what’s happened.”
Selena glanced toward Victor’s picture.“I know.”
Connor rubbed both hands over his face, then lowered them and stood there with his fingers curled against his palms.“Warren was bad enough.Now Vic.”
