Page 4 of The Guilty Trial

None of it helped.

She swung.

Thwack.

The contact felt solid, more solid than any she’d made all morning. The ball rocketed off the tee, arcing high and true, and for a moment, Allie allowed herself to hope. The ball carried over the water hazard, sailed past the pines, and dropped cleanly into the center of the fairway.

“Whoa! Look at you go!” Hannah shouted with delight. She hugged her, and Jason and Eastman each gave her a high-five.

Allie blinked, half-convinced she’d imagined it. And yet her ball was sitting exactly where it should be, visible and accessible and entirely free of vegetation or water. A warmth spread through her chest, a small, irrational pleasure that came from succeeding at something difficult.

They made their way down the fairway, with the carts humming quietly over the path. Allie was already mentally preparing her next shot when she saw Jason reach for his phone. He glanced at the screen, frowned, and answered.

“King,” he said, his voice shifting into a tone that immediately told Allie this was about work.

She watched him from her cart as he listened. He frowned again, then said a few words she couldn’t hear. He gestured for his partner to come over. Allie climbed out of the cart while exchanging a glance with Hannah. Calls from the office on a Saturday were rarely good news.

She joined Jason near the edge of the fairway. “What’s up?”

Hannah had followed and stood beside her with curiosity evident on her face.

“That was Marze. He needs us. Now.”

“What happened?” Allie asked.

“An Assistant U.S. Attorney was found dead this morning,” he replied. “Looks like a homicide. They found him at a rented cabin up in the foothills. Chelan County Sheriff’s Office handled the initial response, but the U.S. Attorney’s Office is requesting federal oversight.”

The warmth from Allie’s successful drive evaporated. Her mind shifted gears, already running through protocols and questions. An AUSA. That made it federal from the jump, no jurisdictional dance required. She felt a flicker of relief that was immediately chased by guilt. A man was dead, and her first thought had been thank God I can leave the golf course.

“When do we need to be there?” she asked.

“An hour ago, apparently,” Jason said. He turned to the other two. “Sorry, guys. We’ve got to head out.”

Allie gestured to her rented clubs. “Can you return those for me?”

“Of course,” Hannah said. “Go. We know the drill. And I’ll tell everyone you were playing great before you had to leave.”

“Let’s not exaggerate.”

Hannah grinned. “I’ll tell them you hit one really good shot. How’s that?”

“Accurate.” Being called away to investigate a murder was a grim rescue, but a rescue nonetheless.

Jason glanced over at her as they walked. “You were doing better out there.”

“Let’s face it,” Allie said. “Golf is not my thing.”

“One good shot though.”

“I’ll take it.”

Jason pulled his keys from his pocket. “For the record, your short game was improving toward the end there.”

“My short game was involuntary. Everything was a short game.”

Reaching the parking lot, Jason loaded his clubs into the trunk of his car. Fortunately, he’d picked her up that morning, so they didn’t have to worry about driving separate vehicles.

She paused before getting in, inhaling the crisp October air that carried the faint scent of pine and damp grass. Overhead, clouds were beginning to gather, a promise of rain later in the day. She climbed into the passenger’s seat, and Jason started the engine.