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Hattie nodded, chewing the bite of chicken, but her eyes flashed with anger and resentment.
“Treven convinced Hattie to help him rendezvous with Jane in a quiet spot down on the river walk.”
“He convinced me he was interested in my friend but too shy to ask her to meet him,” Hattie murmured, her voice full of emotion as opposed to Jensen’s level, clinical explanation. “Jane was a sweetie, innocent and kind …” Her voice broke, and she focused on her food, stirring her rice with her fork.
Silence filled the small room. Steffan wished he could comfort her. “You could only get Treven as an accomplice?” he murmured to Jensen.
His friend nodded. Steffan could only imagine how all of this had burdened Jensen over the years. The true murderer framing an innocent woman. Jensen breaking the law to save her. Insane.
“Accomplice?” Hattie bit out, obviously overhearing him. “He killed Jane in cold blood. I led him right to her, then I stepped back to let them have their moment. Before I could turn away, he’d stabbed her with a knife through her heart.” Her voice rose, and tears formed in her pretty brown eyes. “Then he looked back at me and laughed. ‘I won the dare’, he said.”
Steffan’s heart thumped out of control. He stepped closer to the bed. “How did you get away from him?”
“I didn’t,” she said, plucking at the hem of her pink T-shirt. “I screamed for help and tried to run, but nobody was around. He tackled me, knocked me out, and then positioned me holding the knife and lying on Jane’s dead body.”
Steffan had seen a lot of horrific things in his days in the emergency room, but the picture she painted … his stomach turned over.
There was silence for a few beats.
“Hattie,” Jensen said gently. “I helped you before, and I’ll help you again.”
“Okay. Thanks,” she murmured, but she didn’t sound okay. She speared a piece of broccoli and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly.
“How did you keep her from being prosecuted last time?” Steffan asked Jensen, trying to remember the case.
“An anonymous call alerted us to the murder. I’m assuming it was from Treven but I’ve never been able to prove it. Peter and I were close by. We found Hattie lying on Jane and woke her up. She frantically told us her story. Peter searched for Treven but couldn’t find him. He had more experience with the punk than I did. Treven had bullied one of Peter’s teenage boys. He’d injured the kid badly—broken bones and the kid lost a kidney. He was lucky he survived. Even as a detective Peter hadn’t been able to get any charges to stick. You know all about the Rindlesbachers, but recently Macey discovered that William is sneakily pushing his ‘claims’ to the throne, and he was the largest contributor to Prime Minster Shule’s campaign.”
“Henry’s?” Steffan reared back. No way was Henry Shule, one of his family’s closest friends and the prime minster of his country, involved with something nefarious like cleaning up crimes for a punk like Treven simply because his family had a lot of money.
Jensen shrugged and lifted his hands. “I’ve spoken to Shule and … I’m not saying he’s involved in helping them, but I’m telling you, the Rindlesbacher’s tentacles are deep. Ray and I are afraid they’re working on their schemes full time.”
“My family rules this country,” Steffan bit back. “Nobody’s dirty tentacles better be staining our country or sweeping assault of a teenage boy and murder of a female tourist under the rug because of connections or money.” He glanced at Hattie. She was chewing a bite of roll, looking reflective.
“Money moves a lot of mountains it shouldn’t,” she said softly.
She would know. She was a billionaire. How had she become a billionaire? He wanted to know so much more about her, but he couldn’t get involved. This was a mess.
“I wasn’t involved in the case with Peter’s son,” Jensen said. “I’m only sharing it so you understand why Peter was so willing to take Hattie’s side and help her, and how fortuitous it was that he was with me that night.”
“I thought it was all you that helped me,” Hattie said quietly. “I remember an older gentleman listening to my story, but then he left pretty quick.”
“Peter will carry the secret to his grave,” Jensen said, “but he fully supported me spiriting you out of the country. He knew how deceitful Treven was.” He focused on Steffan. “We wiped all the prints clean and didn’t take her to the police station. We never told anybody we found anybody there besides Jane.”
Steffan’s eyes widened. Jensen was always a straight arrow. Always. He’d taken a huge risk to protect Hattie without even knowing her.
“I just knew it was the right thing to do.” Jensen said quietly. “So I drove her across the border and made sure she got on a train in Bern.”
“And told me never to return to Augustine or I’d get charged with murder.”
Jensen nodded grimly. “To protect you from the Rindlesbachers ever finding you. Of course Treven kept screaming that a woman had killed Jane, not him. Luckily, he didn’t know Hattie’s name.”
“I sometimes make up names,” Hattie said.
“Like Angelica?” Steffan asked.
“That was on you.”
“Good thing you didn’t tell him your name originally,” Jensen said. “Though now he has his cell wallpapered with photos of you.” He raised his eyebrows at Hattie.
