AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He kept his fiery gaze on her face for a beat before hitching a leg and dragging it across the porch to the rocking chair. It creaked as he settled into it. He kept his eyes on the trio of police officers.
“I’m sorry,” said the woman, waving them toward the steps. “What can I do for you, Cy?”
No explanation was given for Dermot Hadlee’s behavior, but it was obvious that he’d had some kind of medical issue, likely a stroke, and that this was not the first time that he’d pulled a shotgun on guests. That Cyrus had chosen not to warn Josie or Gretchen was another matter altogether.
Cyrus introduced Josie and Gretchen. “They’re here to speak with Vance and, uh, serve a search warrant.”
The woman put the gun aside, leaning it up against one of the wooden balusters, and walked down the steps toward them. “Lark Hadlee,” she said. “Can I see some identification?”
Josie took her sweaty palm away from her pistol and produced her credentials. Gretchen did the same. Lark studied them, her expression impossible to read. “You want to talk to Vance about what?”
“A murder,” said Josie.
If Lark was surprised, she didn’t show it. She folded her arms across her chest and looked pointedly at Cyrus. He threw his hands in the air. “Nothing I can do about this, sweetheart. Not my circus. I’m here as a courtesy.”
Dermot managed to say, “Get him.”
Rolling her eyes, Lark spun on her heel and walked back up the steps. She threw the front door open and screamed for Vance.
While they waited, Josie and Gretchen exchanged a look. They hadn’t found any evidence that Vance Hadlee had remarried, and given the family resemblance, it appeared that Lark was his sister. When Vance didn’t appear, Lark went inside. Behind them, tires crunched against gravel. Seconds later, Mettner pulled up behind Josie and Gretchen’s vehicle. He hopped out, drawing an angry glare from Dermot and a weary look from Cyrus.
From the porch, Josie heard Dermot hiss what sounded like “Whoosis?”
Cyrus said, “I imagine it’s another detective from Denton.” He looked at Josie and Gretchen. “That right?”
Mettner walked right up to Cyrus and extended a hand, introducing himself. Cyrus stared at his outstretched palm for a moment, as if it were covered in something disgusting. Mettner didn’t move. Instead, he added, “I’m here to assist with the search warrant.”
With a sigh, Cyrus shook Mettner’s hand. Turning back to Dermot, he said, “I was right.”
Inside the house, a door slammed. Lark’s voice rang out, her words faint but audible. “I don’t know. Just get the hell out here. Dad said.”
A few more minutes passed in awkward silence, the only noise the creak of Dermot’s rocking chair. Finally, Vance emerged from the front door, wearing a stained white T-shirt and jeans that he hadn’t bothered to button up. His boots were unlaced, and half his hair stood on end. The same smirk they’d seen in his driver’s license photo snaked across his face. He stopped on the porch, taking in the scene. Then he sauntered down the porch steps, keeping his gaze on Cyrus.
“Cy,” he said. “My condolences. We were real sorry to hear about Piper.”
Cyrus’s posture stiffened. The flush of anger Josie had seen at the police station rose again in his cheeks. Before he could respond, Lark emerged onto the porch. “Sorry we weren’t at the service,” she called out. “Dad had the flu.”
Cyrus swallowed and quickly changed the subject, introducing Josie and Gretchen—and now Mettner—to Vance. He explained why they had come, including everything they’d told him at the Bly Police Department.
Three horizontal lines creased Vance’s forehead as his eyes moved from Cyrus to Josie, Gretchen, and Mettner. Up close, Josie saw what Anya had been talking about when she said his eyes were like starbursts. On less of a scumbag, they might even be attractive.
“Wait just a minute,” he said. “You think I killed someone?” He shook his head, hard, his hair rearranging itself into a new picture of disarray. “And you think I—I branded this woman? Are you crazy?” Turning back to Cyrus, he said, “What’s this about Anya? I haven’t seen her in ten years. You know that, Cy. Everyone knows it. She left and never looked back.”
Josie said, “The same type of brand that you used when you assaulted your ex-wife was used on our victim before her death.”
Gretchen launched right into questioning, trying to keep him off balance. “Do you know Sharon Eddy?”
Some fleeting emotion flitted across Vance’s face. Josie couldn’t decide if it was alarm or confusion but she was certain he recognized the name, though how he and Sharon Eddy might have been connected was a mystery. Josie and the team hadn’t found anything at all linking the two, but they had yet to do a truly extensive investigation into Sharon Eddy’s life. The corners of Vance’s mouth tightened. He cast around, looking at everyone else for help. None was forthcoming. Dermot glared at his son, the healthy side of his mouth curled in a sneer. With a sigh, Vance answered, “I don’t know anyone named Sharon Eddy.”
Josie had come prepared with a driver’s license photo of Sharon. She took out her phone and pulled it up, turning it toward him so he could see it. Lark walked down a few steps and peeked over his shoulder. Vance’s expression was blank. The name had sparked some recognition but not her face. Unless he was a very good actor. “I don’t know her. Never saw her.”
“Where were you yesterday?” asked Mettner.
“I was here,” Vance said.
“All day?” asked Josie.
“Yeah, all day. Lark, tell them.”
