Page 147 of Shadows in Bloom

He looks away and clenches his jaw.

“Why don’t you tell me more about the relationship?” I ask, trying to steer us back on track and sensing we’ll lose him if we don’t keep him talking.

Thirty minutes pass while we discuss every aspect of their relationship. Marshall soon relaxes and even smiles at some points, but his face shutters when Sarah asks him if he’s in love with Cruz. He regards her before placing his chin on his clasped hands and nodding. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“You think, or you are?”

Seconds pass. Marshall scratches his brow, then stares out the small window to our left. When he eases back in his seat, I hold my breath. Weeks of sleepless nights have led us to this moment. “I’m in love with him.”

Sarah shifts beside me. “Can you tell us about your whereabouts on the night of Ms. Phillips’s murder?”

“Am I a suspect?” he asks, frowning.

“No, not at all. You’re free to walk at any time.”

“I was at home all night.”

“Alone?” I question, my heart thudding hard. We need him to open a window of opportunity for Cruz to have been at the crime scene. Without it, we’re screwed.

His throat jumps as he looks between us, but then his tension eases. “No, I wasn’t alone. I was with…Cruz.”

My heart sinks, and I sense Sarah stiffening beside me. Shit…

“All night?” I ask.

He pins his eyes on me, steeling his jaw. “All night.”

The wall clock ticks loudly in the background. We stare at each other, neither willing to back down. He looks away first when Sarah clears her throat.

“We know about Cruz’s obsession with you. Are you aware that he stalked you for over a year—probably longer—reading your emails and text messages, encroaching on your privacy? He even installed cameras in your house. The email you received about your wife’s affair came from his IP address.” She digs her finger into the table. “He was more than happy to see your marriage fail so that he could swoop in and pick at the remains.”

“My wife cheated on me.” His eyes harden. “Cruz isn’t responsible for her actions.”

Sarah sits back and crosses her arms. “Ms. Phillips was found in pieces. Her attacker chased her down with a chainsaw, Mr. Kirk. It’s the worst crime scene I’ve witnessed in my career. The responding officers required extensive therapy.” She leans forward again and rests her elbows on the table, eyes intent on Marshall. “The person who murdered Ms. Phillips is a violent and very dangerous killer, make no mistake. He will kill again if he’s not caught. Maybe not right away, but mark my words, he can’t control his impulses.” I can sense her desperation from here. “It’s vital that you tell us the truth, Marshall. Was Cruz with you all night?”

He looks past her at a remote spot on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest while grinding his teeth. A myriad of emotions cross his face. Then he exhales a heavy sigh and drags his fingers through his beard; the words that follow the loud rasp have me hanging my head in defeat.

“Cruz was with me all night.”

Sarah stares at him blankly and then rises to her feet and walks out without another word. The door slams shut, and we sit silently while I slide the folder toward me.

That’s it. Game over. We don’t have sufficient evidence to charge Cruz or keep him in custody. He’s a free man, and Ms. Phillips is nowhere closer to getting justice.

Rising to my feet, I drum my fingers on the folder and debate if I should say something or not.

Marshall rubs his tired eyes, his hair a mess and his clothes creased. He looks like a ghost, and I would feel sorry for him—the man has lost his closest friend and his career—but his displaced sense of loyalty for a cold-blooded killer has put our town in danger, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it now.

Not without his help.

I pull a photograph from the folder and toss it on the table. “Do you know this girl?”

Marshall pales. “Violet Scott. She’s one of my students.”

“She’s gone missing.”

His eyes fly up to mine, and I shrug as I collect the photograph. “Interesting timing, don’t you think? Cruz’s parents confirmed that she came around for dinner a few weeks back, and now she’s missing.”

When he gulps, paler than a corpse, I fish out a card from my pocket and slide it toward him on the table. “There’s my contact details if you change your mind.”

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