Page 14 of K-9 in Pursuit

“Sure. I’ll look after Daisy. But why do they think you killed Sharee?”

“They said…they said they found my ski glove with her body.”

“Your ski glove?”

“I guess it’s the one I lost. You remember—I was looking for it yesterday morning.”

“I remember. But how did it end up with Sharee’s body?”

“I don’t know.” He hated to ask for anything else, but desperate times called for begging. “Do you think Stacy could find out what’s going on?” Connor’s girlfriend, FBI Special Agent Stacy McRae, surely had some kind of influence with the local sheriff.

“I’ll talk to her,” Connor said. “And you need to find a lawyer.”

“They said they’d appoint one, but I haven’t heard anything.” He had no idea how long these things took, but he had already been here eight hours.

“Sit tight and I’ll find out what I can,” Connor said.

“I told the deputies about the harassment, and about the underwear Sharee gave me. They’re probably going to want to talk to you.”

“I’m not hard to find. Meanwhile, hang in there. We’ll help any way we can.”

But Brian’s first visitor, several hours later, wasn’t Connor or his girlfriend, or a lawyer. It was Chloe Anderson.

He stood as a deputy escorted Chloe into the small interview room, heart pounding. Had she come to berate him for her sister’s death?

She didn’t say anything until the deputy who escorted her in had left and the door closed behind him.

“Chloe, no matter what they told you, I swear I didn’t have anything to do with Sharee’s death,” Brian said. “I’m so sorry she’s gone.”

Chloe sat at the table. “I’ve been talking with Sergeant Lowry,” she said. “He let me in to see you because he thought you might tell me what happened.”

He lowered himself to the chair across from her. “I don’t know what happened,” he said. “I haven’t seen Sharee for days. I was home by myself last night.”

“He told me they…they found your glove. Right beside her body.”

“They told me that, too. But I swear I don’t know how it got there. I lost that glove two days ago. You can ask anyone in patrol. I was looking all over for it Friday morning.”

“When did you see her last?”

“Tuesday. The day she gave me her little gift.” He grimaced. When he had mentioned the underwear to the cops, they had alerted like hounds on the scent of a rabbit.

“And you haven’t talked to her since?” Chloe asked.

“No.” He leaned toward her. “I would never have hurt her. It took me forever to tell her she needed to leave me alone because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“But you were upset with her,” Chloe said. “You were afraid she had made bogus complaints about you to the resort, and that might cost you your job.”

“I was annoyed. But no one took the complaints seriously. Not after the patrol captain spoke up for me.”

She studied him for a long moment—a cool, intense gaze that left him feeling stripped and vulnerable. “I want to believe you,” she said. “But if you didn’t kill Sharee, who did?”

“I don’t know. Did she have any enemies? Any real enemies? Could this have anything to do with whatever trouble she was in before she came here?”

The faint line between Chloe’s brows deepened. “I don’t see how. But the sheriff’s detective I spoke with told me they would look into all that.”

“Maybe what happened to her was an accident and the cops jumped to the wrong conclusion,” Brian said.

Chloe shook her head. “They didn’t tell you how she died?” she asked.