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McCrae entered his home about 11:00 and heard the distinctive click-click-click of Fido’s nails as he greeted him in the dark. McCrae squatted down and rubbed the dog’s ears, just like he had a few hours before. Only then he’d been primed and eager to see Delta and let whatever happened happen. He’d wanted her. He still wanted her. But now . . .
He swore violently, and Fido whined slightly and began washing his face with his tongue. “I’m okay,” he told the dog.
After she’d gotten Owen in bed, Delta had fallen all over herself to tell him what she’d done. Yes, she knew the knife was from their own set. Yes, she’d purchased a different set of knives, meaning to swap them out, so no one would know, but then Owen had noticed, and she’d put them back. She’d felt like an idiot. No, she hadn’t used the knife. Like Tia and Amy had said, Tanner had taken it to the clinic himself. But after she’d touched it, after she’d realized it was the weapon, she’d wanted to distance herself. And once she’d started, she didn’t how to stop the deception.
“I told Amanda,” she said.
“Amanda,” he’d repeated, surprised.
“As of today, she’s my lawyer.”
McCrae was playing catchup, and he didn’t like the feeling at all. “Tell me how that happened,” h
e said, and she laid out how she’d asked for Amanda based on her reputation. “It was kind of awkward, but she knows it wasn’t me who killed him.”
“How does she know that?”
“Because I told her. She told me not to lie. I know how lame that sounds,” she added quickly. “I’m just saying what transpired.”
He’d grilled her further, feeling betrayed, and she’d answered his questions fully, with no recriminations. She’d sworn she wanted everything out in the open.
Still, McCrae hadn’t known what to believe. He stayed and asked questions and tried to get his own feelings under control until they were both wrung out.
“What are you going to do?” she’d asked him as he’d prepared to leave.
He’d had no answer for her.
Now he took a shower and climbed into bed. Did he believe her? Yes . . . mostly.
He swept his cell up from his night stand. The name of her book was Blood Dreams. He was no techie, but he figured he could download an app and purchase it to read on his phone.
It rang in his hand. He glanced at the time. 12:50.
And then he saw it was Quin calling.
“What?” he answered.
“Car went off the cliff at Grimm’s Pond. Opposite side of the river from where we rescued . . . where we pulled out Carmen . . .” His voice was unsteady. “It’s Brian Timmons and Zora. I need you over there, McCrae. They’re both dead.”
Chapter 23
It was 5:30 Friday morning, and the day was dawning overcast and dull. More July gloom. Ellie was already dressed and out the door. There was much to be done. An interview with Delta, if she could swing it. Everybody wanted her, but so far no one had gotten her. McCrae was running interference at some level. A real pisser. Had he always had a thing for Delta? Probably.
He only had sex with you at the barbeque because he was drunk.
She pushed that out of her head. That was a long, long time ago, and she didn’t need any negative thoughts screwing up her day.
Her cell phone buzzed against the passenger seat of her Ford Escort where she’d thrown it. She glanced over. Amanda. Huh.
She answered, putting the phone on SPEAKER, leaving it on the seat. “What’s up, Amanda?”
“I want you to do an interview with me. I’m representing Delta, and I want it out there, as soon as possible. The next news cycle. Can we do it this morning?”
“You’re representing . . . ?” Ellie’s brows shot up in surprise. “Delta killed him, Amanda.”
“I don’t think she did.”
“Really?”
