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“Ah-ha! So, you were following us!” Kristin proclaimed.
“Why don’t we take this outside?” I suggested.
“Good idea,” Ainsley replied.
I handed the cart to a passing store employee and led the way into the parking lot.
“Let’s get into my car, shall we ladies? So, we can have a private little chat.”
Ainsley and Kristin both gasped.
“You’re not arresting us, are you?” Kristin cried.
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” Ainsley said.
Looking into Ainsley’s eyes, I saw fear written in them, and noticed telltale signs of exhaustion in the dark circles underneath. She must not have slept a wink. In fact, Kristin looked just as bad. Had they both been up all night?
“I believe you,” I told her. “But I also think something weird is going on that you’re not telling me. Why don’t we all get in, and we can talk about whatever’s really going on together? If you’re in some sort of trouble, maybe I can help you.”
I opened the door to the back seat of my cruiser. Kirstin glanced at Ainsley and then climbed inside, placing her grocery bag on the seat beside her.
“Come sit in front with me,” I said to Ainsley.
We walked around to the passenger side together, where I pulled the door open for her and waited for her to get in.
She placed a foot inside and then turned to me, her gorgeous eyes filling with tears.
“Logan, I know you want to help. Really, I do. But trust me, there’s nothing you can do. This is our problem, and no one but the two of us can fix it. If we can fix it that is,” she added sorrowfully.
I couldn’t help myself—I lifted my hand to her cheek and cupped it with my palm.
“Please, let me at least try.”
Ainsley took a deep breath and her lips parted.
At that moment, my phone buzzed. Shit.
“Hang on. Let me make sure this isn’t important,” I said, reaching inside the pocket of my jacket for the device. I glanced at the read-out. Damnit it all, the station was calling. Why did I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach? I hit the green button to answer the call, dread flooding my veins.
“Grey here.”
Ainsley’s brow furrowed. “Oh, no,” I heard her whisper.
It was Stout this time. “Boss, Tiny Tim just called in. He says there’s some lady chatting up Blake Goodyear at the tavern. He fits the profile of the other vics…late 20’s, works down at the salvage center, has a rap sheet full of domestic violence citations. What’s more, Tim said now he remembers the same lady was there the same night Gus was murdered. Tim doesn’t know who she is, though, doesn’t think she’s from around here.”
“I’m on my way,” I said, clicking off the call.
“What is it?” Ainsley asked.
“Get in,” I said, “we may be able to catch the killer in time to prevent another murder.”
“Let’s go,” she said and ducked her pretty head inside my car.
Chapter Seven
Ainsley
Logan, Kristin, and I were huddled together in the alleyway adjacent to Tiny Tim’s Tavern.
