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Vehicle doors opened and closed.
“You think I killed Callie! I loved Callie. I understood her.”
“She loved me!”
“Well, that’s not what she told me when she was in my bed.”
What? Time stilled and shock spread, not allowing his brain to process. Callie and he had issues, but she wouldn’t have done this to him. They’d loved one another. Fury unleashed and he shoved Greg off of him, straddling him and drawing back his fist. “That’s not true.”
“It is.” He put his hands up in surrender. “I loved her and she loved me, John. I want nothing more than to bring Whiskey down and find out who killed her. I want to be the one to do it. I owe her.” He sighed. “I’m not a serial killer. As soon as Whiskey left, I ignored Amy. I tried to get her out. I knew it was gonna blow. I’m sorry Richard stayed inside. But there was nothing else I could do. He was high and irrational.”
John couldn’t do it. Couldn’t punch Greg. He dropped his fist and slid to the ground beside him. He glanced up and Violet stood nearby. Then Detective Owsley drove up and ambled out of his marked unit. “Didn’t expect you to be here, Detective Orlando,” Owsley said.
“I, uh...thought I might find Whiskey if I followed this guy. Find some concrete evidence if he’s our killer. But Whiskey isn’t here, and by the time I arrived, the place had already blown up. I went for survivors, and it blew again. There are none except myself and him.”
Regis eyed them both as if weighing his words as truth. Greg said nothing.
Violet slowly approached John. “Are you all right?”
She’d heard it all. How humiliating.
Callie had been having an affair, and as much as he wanted to deny Greg’s words, he knew they were true. Callie had betrayed him. He’d feared she might leave him for the job, but never for another man.
John stood and lightly touched her cheek. “Mostly.”
“I had the scanner on. Heard there was an explosion and had a sick feeling you might have done something stupid and be here.” She looked into his eyes, bit her lower lip and whispered, “I was scared for me too.” That might be the most forthright Violet had ever been about how she felt concerning him. It soothed a sliver of his sore heart.
“Who was inside, Heart?” Greg’s cover last name.
“Richard Green, Terrance Filmore and Amy Miller. I’d just arrived, like he said. Had no clue what was going on.”
Regis rolled his eyes and walked toward the back of the inferno.
John locked eyes with Violet again. “Thank you. For coming to my rescue.”
“Day late and a dollar short.” She gave him a close-lipped smile. “I’m sorry.”
About Callie.
“Yeah. Me too.” But right now wasn’t the time to sulk or cry over it. Bella Dawn was still missing.
“Local police can handle this. It isn’t directly linked to the Blind Eye Killer.” Violet paused. “Is it?”
John shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not anymore.” If Greg was keeping John from investigating in order to avenge Callie, then keeping tight-lipped made sense. “I’m not going to say for certain. Nothing is certain.”
“That’s the truth.”
“My car is about two miles back off the road behind some trees.”
“Of course it is. I want to talk to Regis since he’s here.”
John followed Violet behind the blazing trailer toward the tree line where Regis Owsley stood watching the place burn.
Violet cast her attention on Regis. “Guess what I found out?”
Regis shoved his hands in his cheap black dress pants’ pockets and cocked his head. “What’s that?”
“Your brother is Cecil Johnson.”
