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The idea that Jack thought she and Winthrop were alike in some ways shouldn’t bother her, but it did. He was right, though. How the hell had two strong, smart, determined women screwed up so badly when it came to men?
When Jack was gone, Finley rinsed their mugs and turned off the coffee maker. She got dressed and psyched herself up for the meeting with Winthrop. The part that bugged Finley the most was that if the woman wasn’t guilty of any wrongdoing and her husband was the bad guy here, why all the secrets?
Why not just come clean with her defense attorney?
They were on the same side—herside.
Finley couldn’t deny being a master at keeping secrets, but there was a time and place to come clean, as she’d done with Jack just now. Winthrop needed to recognize that time had come.
Finley grabbed her bag and keys and headed out. She locked her door and started toward her Subaru.
A crash in the garage drew her attention there. She walked in that direction, noticed the side door wasn’t fully closed. She hadn’t been in the garage in ages. Had Jack poked around in there while he was here this morning?
Finley pushed the door inward. With no windows, the interior was pitch dark. She opened the door wider, allowing more light inside. A stack of boxes filled with junk she’d moved out of her condo had overturned. Thankfully the boxes were taped shut, so the contents weren’t scattered all over the dusty floor. She had to go through that stuff one of these days.
“Damn it.” She searched for the switch and turned on the light.
“Stay right there!”
Finley’s gaze swerved to the woman who’d shouted the command.
Whitney Lemm.
She held a shovel like a weapon. Finley knew the shovel well. Back in July she’d used it to dig dozens of holes in her backyard in search of ... nothing, it seemed. Just a wild-goose chase her nosy neighbor had prompted with tales of having seen Derrick digging around back there before Finley moved in with him. All she’d found was the remains of a family pet that had been buried there years ago.
What in the hell was Brant’s girlfriend doing here? “Whitney, you—”
“Just ... just don’t move,” she ordered, her voice shaking.
“What’re you doing here?” Finley figured she could get out the door before the woman could get close enough to hit her with the shovel, but her curiosity got the better of her. Why on earth would she show up here?
Lemm’s lips started to tremble, and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do. They’re going to kill me. I can’t go to the police because too many of them are in his pocket.”
“Whose pocket?”
She made a face. “Don’t be stupid. Carson Dempsey, who else? Tark told me the kind of shit his boss does. That’s how I knew he’d kill me when he found me with you. I was fucked and I knew it. Now he’s dead and I’m still fucked.”
Finley figured her assessment was accurate. “What you need is someone to tell your side of what happened.” She needed Jack. Maybe Finley had lost her mind, but it was partly her fault this woman was in trouble. “I tell you what, Whitney. My boss is the best defense attorney in Nashville. He can help you. And I know a detective we can trust.” At least she hoped she could trust him. So far, she had no reason not to trust Eric Houser.
“I’m not talking to no one unless I have some kind of protection deal.”
Finley couldn’t say she blamed her. “First, let’s get you someplace where you’ll be safe until we figure this out.”
The woman’s grip tightened on the shovel. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t. But you have no reason not to trust me, either, which is more than you can say for Dempsey and his people and whatever cops you think are in his pocket.”
The woman lowered the shovel and tossed it to the floor. “Makes sense.”
“I have no reason to want to hurt you,” Finley promised. “But I need some time to figure this out.”
Whitney nodded. “Okay. So what do we do?”
“First, we get you out of here. Flock watches me the same way Brant did.”
Her red and swollen eyes widened. “If he finds me ...”
“We’re not going to let that happen. We’ll figure this out.”
