“Have you lost your mind? I don’t have a thing for her. I’m simply worried about her safety. Until I can assure there wasn’t a break-in, I’m going to be on alert.”
“Sure... that’s all your snippiness is about.”
I take a deep breath. “I will be the first to admit that she’s attractive.” He narrows his eyes in on me. “Okay, fine. She’sveryattractive. But that’s not why I’m concerned for her.” I rub my jaw, contemplating how exactly to frame this. “I know firsthand what she’s been through and that makes me feel bonded to her in some fucked up way.”
Eric’s features soften and he clears his throat. “It’s not fucked up, man. You two have something massive in common. That sort of thing brings people together all the time.” He shrugs one shoulder, sucking on his teeth. “You should make a move.”
“That’s exactly the opposite of what I should do. She needs space, not someone to trade grief stories with.”
He shrugs. “Someone needs to protect her from bad guys or ghosts.”
I’m about to kick him again when it occurs to me, he was a close acquaintance of Billy. Maybe he knows details from the family that I don’t. Something that could at the very least check the Garets off my list.
I fill him in on what occurred that night and how every neighbor checked their cameras and found nothing suspect. He knewthere was a reported possible break-in, but since it’s not in our division, I never gave him Alyssa’s full account.
“What’s your take?” he asks, seemingly invested in the details.
“My best—and only—guess is if someone was in Alyssa’s house, they used Billy’s name as a decoy, knowing it would send us down a dead end.”
He appears to mull this over for a few minutes. “Criminals do all sorts of dumb shit. They don’t think twice about throwing family and friends under the bus. Wouldn’t think twice about claiming to be a dead guy.”
I nod. “Exactly. If someone were trying to pass himself off as a dead man, it was to stall the investigation.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he agrees. “But that’d be hard to prove. Besides, you said nobody entered through the one and only entrance and exit that was unlocked.”
He’s right.
In my twenty-two years in law enforcement, I’ve seen it all, but this one is turning into a head scratcher.
“She described Billy to a tee. Oddly, she even claimed he was wearing the exact clothes and accessories he was wearing the night he died. How would she have conjured that description out of thin air?”
“Billy was wearing pretty basic shit. A hoodie is something a lot of burglars wear. It’s not too inconceivable that she’d describe those clothes.”
“True, and between you and me, her account of what occurred has holes the size of Texas.”
He bobs his head. “Men don’t disappear from a secured room. It seems more likely she dreamed the incident.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “That’s not something I’ll suggest again. Made that mistake once, and I almost paid dearly for it.”
His eyes widen. “Oh yeah? How so?”
“By way of a glare that could incinerate if it’s aimed at you for too long.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Who would’ve thought a woman could scare the alpha of the homicide unit?”
“Funny, asshole.” I give him a few moments to pull himself together before starting my inquisition. “What do you know about Billy Garet?”
He sputters a few more laughs before taking a drink of his water and seeming to launch into detective mode. “He was a rich asshole who lived off his daddy’s money,” he says, placing the glass on the table. “He was an acquired taste. Dry sense of humor. People either loved him or hated him. I happened to love the guy.”
“What have you heard about his accident?”
“The basics. Two years ago, his Jeep was headed southwest on Spooky Hollow Road.”
You don’t live in Knox Harbor and not know that road. It’s hilly and curvy, with blind spots galore. It’s a dangerous road that leads to many casualties every year.
“Billy’s Jeep was found in a ravine on its top the next morning. The coroner’s notes said his death was caused by internal bleeding. It seemed like a standard case, but the family insisted it was suspicious.” He takes a sip of his overly creamed coffee, and my leg starts to bounce under the table. Our break is nearing its end, and I need information I can use to help Alyssa. I’m about to press when he continues.
“The night of his death, he was playing pool at Clementine’s, and witnesses told his dad he got into a heated argument with a known pool shark, Jackson Moore.”
