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“And you left on foot?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We had an argument.”
The detective glanced at Cal, his frantic pace of questioning slowed. He scooted a little closer and leaned toward me. “Perhaps we should talk alone?”
Another dose of realization hit. The way he was glancing at Cal, then at me, made the detective’s thoughts play out clearly on his expression. He thought Cal was an issue.
“I want Cal here,” I said confidently.
The detective still wasn’t certain, and glanced at Jack, who was now walking our way.
“You seem to have an entourage everywhere you go, Miss Case.”
“That’s because no one around here is going to protect her,” Jack interrupted, coming to stand on the other side of me. Being flanked by both men, feeling their strength, was powerful. Made me feel powerful. And safe.
“We are doing everything we can,” the detective assured us. Yet his assurance did little to comfort me.
“Are you? Then why are you wasting our time questioning a victim of this situation instead of starting with people who clearly have motive and have taken action in hurting Lana? Like Brock VanBuren.”
Jack’s tone was cut and dry, and made the detective do his own seat shifting now.
“He was in jail the night of the fire.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s alone in his actions. He was caught at her house. Lana is the target, yet she sits here, answering your questions while no progress is made.”
The detective pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back in his seat. There was honest frustration in his movements. Like, he was actually trying and getting stonewalled himself.
“We are looking into financials, the Case-VanBuren business, and the estate as whole. These things take time, but there are motives where there’s money, we just haven’t found anything yet that justifies why Carter Case was murdered.”
There was a lot of money and a name like VanBuren at stake. Things couldn’t be going easy. “But Anita stood to gain everything, didn’t she?” I asked. I only knew the one detail Anita had said at my father’s funeral. That I wasn’t in the will. So, everything must have gone to her.
“Yes, she gains to a point. But she didn’t need Carter dead to have access to the company or money. Everything appears to be jointly connected.”
“Have you spoken with Anita? Does she know about my father not having committed suicide after all?”
“Yes, we spoke with her attorney. We will question her again as well. We’re just following up with everyone, since the classification of his death changes things.”
I glanced at my hands. So many questions swirled. Part of me was happy my father hadn’t committed suicide. Part of me was even angrier that someone took his life away. There was no upside in a situation like this, because the outcome remained: my father was gone.
And I’d loved him. Despite everything, I loved him and my stomach dropped whenever I thought about the fact that I’d never see him again.
“How did you figure out he was killed instead of…” I couldn’t finish the question. Jack’s hand was now on my other shoulder. Both of them behind me. Right there to fight with me.
“There was no gun residue on your father’s hands,” the detective said with empathy. “Which means he wasn’t the one who held the gun to his head.”
I flinched, thinking of that detail, and cold shivers broke over my skin.
“That’s why we’re re-examining the case from start to finish.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, and looked up to find the detective’s eyes had softened a little.
“If you think of anything else, you can call me anytime,” he said and glanced at Cal, then Jack. Everything in that glance felt wrong. Like he was piecing together the fact that I was one woman, with two men behind me. It must look odd, but everything about Cal and Jack felt right.
No matter how it seemed—bad or otherwise—being with both of them made me feel better and stronger than being without them. They felt right. The exact opposite of how I’d spent my life up until I’d met them.
