Page 63 of K-9 in Pursuit

“I know. And I plan to take you up on the offer.”

He led her over to the sofa. They sat and Daisy settled on the floor at their feet. “I’m not sure Sharee was the type to ask for help,” Brian said. “I always got the impression she liked people to think she was bold and a little outrageous—the kind of person who didn’t really need help.”

“I can’t get over knowing she spent her nights wandering around town by herself when I thought she was out with friends.” Chloe rested her head on his shoulder. “Why didn’t she want to stay home with me? Was I that uninviting?”

“Did the two of you argue a lot?”

“Not really. I got on her about not letting me know where she was going, and about being a slob. But those weren’t real arguments. She was my sister, and I loved her. But now I’m afraid she didn’t know how much.” She choked back tears. Brian laced his fingers with hers.

“I’m sorry.” She struggled to pull herself together. “I came over here to support you—not the other way around.”

“You know you can always lean on me,” he said. “No matter what.”

“What can I do to help you?” she asked.

“Just being here now helps.”

“Tell me exactly what your lawyer said.”

He repeated his conversation with Pamela Barnes. “If the sheriff’s department did find Sharee’s DNA on my glove, it looks really bad,” he said. “That’s what has me most scared, and we won’t know what evidence they’re presenting until the case goes to trial.”

“Did your lawyer say if the sheriff is looking at anyone else as a suspect in Sharee’s murder?” she asked.

“I don’t think they are,” he said. “I mean, if they were still investigating, why would they move to charge me?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve worked really hard so far, trying to not let this get to me, but today was the worst.”

She rubbed his back, saying nothing.

“You know when it really hit me?” he asked. “When Connor told me an out of town reporter was looking for me. Suddenly, this isn’t only a case locals are seeing in the weekly paper. It’s something lots of people know about. Strangers, who aren’t going to see me as Brian Weeks, ski patroller and nice guy. To them I’ll only ever be Brian Weeks, suspected murderer.”

The desolation in his voice chilled her. “We can’t let that happen,” she said. “We need to look even harder for more information. There must be someone who knows something, or some clue to the killer’s identity we’re missing.”

“Where?” He raked a hand through his hair. “We’ve talked to everyone we can. We found out about Sharee’s late-night wanderings, but I don’t know what to do with the information.”

“I want to find Bunny,” she said. “I still think she might be connected, somehow. She must have been staying somewhere nearby. Is there any master list of properties we could search for her name?”

He considered the question. “If there is, Connor might know.”

“Call him,” she said.

“It’s after six. I hate to bother him after work hours.”

She patted his thigh. “Remember what we said about leaning on friends?”

“You’re right.” He stood. “But instead of calling him, let’s go see him. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I’m not convinced the sheriff’s department isn’t monitoring my phone calls.”

“Do you really think they would do that?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Connor lived in an apartment complex on the outskirts of town. He answered the door wearing gray jogging pants and a SkyCrest sweatshirt. “Hey, Brian.” He looked past Brian to Chloe.

“This is Chloe Anderson,” Brian said. “Can we come in?”

“Sure.” He stepped aside and they filed into the living room. Like Brian’s trailer, it was cluttered with multiple pairs of skis and various ski jackets and snow pants.

A goldendoodle rose from a bed in the corner and came to greet them, and a slender dark-haired woman stood also. “Um, this is Stacy McCrae,” Brian said.

Stacy offered her hand. “It’s good to meet you, Chloe,” she said.