Page 5 of The Guilty Trial

The golf course disappeared behind them, and Allie felt the familiar shift as her mind moved into work mode. An AUSA murdered. That kind of case would bring scrutiny from every direction. They merged onto the highway, and the city skyline became visible in the distance. Whatever had happened to Thomas Sterling, she and Jason were about to step into the middle of it.

Chapter Three

Cascade Foothills

Chelan County, Washington

The suburbs thinned as they left Tacoma behind, giving way to forested foothills that rose steadily toward the Cascades. After the pass, the landscape opened as they dropped into Chelan County, where orchards and hay fields stretched across the valley floor toward the eastern slopes.

Jason kept the Charger at a steady pace. Allie watched the scenery blur past as her mind worked through what little they knew about the case. An AUSA killed in a remote rental cabin with no cell service and no neighbors close enough to hear anything suggested a killer who had done his homework. But that was about all they had.

“You’re coming over the top,” Jason said, making a swooping gesture with his right hand. “That’s why you’re slicing. If you just drop your hands a little at the start of your downswing⁠—”

Allie deadpanned him. “Jason.”

“I’m just saying, if you adjusted your grip a little⁠—”

“Jason,” she repeated.

“—and maybe worked on your stance, you’d see a lot of improvement. It’s really just about the fundamentals.”

Allie sighed. “For the record, that was the last time I’m playing golf.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Ever?”

“Ever,” she confirmed. “I’d rather just write a check for a good cause than humiliate myself like that again.”

Jason smiled. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was exactly that bad.” Allie shook her head. “I spent two hours retrieving balls from bushes and creeks. It felt more like a scavenger hunt, and I was the only one hunting.”

Jason laughed warmly. “All right. No more golf. Noted.”

Allie settled back in her seat, relieved to have that settled. The trees thickened around them, their branches forming a canopy that filtered the afternoon light into dappled patterns across the windshield. The clouds that had been gathering earlier were moving in now. They darkened the sky and cast the landscape a somber gray.

“How’s Joey doing?” Allie asked, hoping to shift the conversation to safer ground.

Jason’s face softened. “She’s great. Sleeping through the night now, which is huge. Victoria and I are actually getting rest.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Jason grinned. “I’m always the first to volunteer when she wakes up though. V jokes that I just like having an excuse to hold her.”

“She’s probably right.”

“She is,” Jason admitted. He glanced at Allie. “Besides, since we’re moving into the new house soon and Victoria’s doing most of the packing, I figure it’s the least I can do. I wouldn’t mind doing more packing and taking the load off of her, but by the time I get home, she’s done so much and just wants me to relax with her.”

Allie smiled, genuinely happy for him. Jason and Victoria had been through a lot in the past few years, and seeing them settle into this new chapter of their lives felt right. They deserved it.

The road climbed steadily now as they moved deeper into the foothills. Jason turned off the main county road onto a narrower route, this one dirt and gravel that wound through dense stands of pine and fir. The trees here were taller, older, their trunks thick and scarred by weather and time. The Charger handled the uneven terrain without complaint, though Allie could feel every rut and dip in the road.

After twenty minutes, the trees thinned, and Allie saw the log cabin ahead. The small structure sat in a clearing surrounded by forest on three sides. Jason parked behind one of the cruisers and killed the engine. They climbed out, and Allie took in the scene—over a dozen vehicles, parked haphazardly along the road and the clearing. She spotted both Chelan County Sheriff’s Office cruisers and state patrol cars. Yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front porch fluttering in the mountain air.

A man descended the short set of stairs and approached. He was broad-shouldered, with gray hair and a wide, weathered face. He wore the uniform of the Chelan County Sheriff’s Office, the badge on his chest catching the light.

“Agents?” He extended a hand. “Sheriff Fisher.”

Jason made the introductions. “What can you tell us?”