Page 5 of Over the Edge

The guy waited until Hank disappeared down the hall toward the bedroom before speaking to his colleague. “Guess I’ve been ousted. I’ll take up a position outside the door if you want to follow Mr. Personality.” He hooked a thumb in the direction the grouchy tech had disappeared.

“Thanks a lot.”

“I’m leaving too.” Jack walked toward the back door. “I have people to interview.”

He exited, ditched his protective gear, and circled the house. After catching Meyers’s attention, he signaled for the man to unlock his cruiser.

The officer beat him there.

The back door swung open, and Jack took a swift but thorough inventory as a thirtysomething woman emerged.

Slender, about eight inches shorter than his six-foot frame—and gorgeous. Not even her bleached complexion or the severe hairstyle that corralled her russet-colored hair into a barrette at her nape could take away from the delicate jawline, full lips, and high cheekbones that gave her a classic beauty.

She didn’t look like any chef he’d ever met.

And she certainly didn’t look like she belonged in the middle of a murder investigation.

But looks could be deceiving. So he’d approach her as he approached anyone at a crime scene—with a healthy dose of suspicion.

Hands buried in the pockets of her quilted coat, she waited for him by the cruiser.

As he drew close, Meyers backed off.

“Ms. Barnes, I’m Jack Tucker with the County Crimes Against Persons Bureau.” He extended his hand.

Instead of grasping his fingers, her lips parted slightly, and she stared at him, her eyes going a tad glassy.

Aftershock?

Was she going to pass out?

“Why don’t you sit again for a minute?” He moved forward to take her arm and help her back into the car.

“No.” She scooted along the fender, toward the trunk—and out of his reach. “No. I’m f-fine.”

That was a lie. Quivers rippled through her, and her pallor had worsened.

“I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. Shall we find a warmer spot?”

“Here is fine. But I already told the officer everything I know.”

At the chill in her voice, he scrutinized her. Fear ... anxiety... nervousness ... all of those emotions were understandable in this situation.

But what had prompted her subtle animosity?

Once again, his antennas went up. “I’d like to hear it straight from you, if you don’t mind.” He pulled out a notebook and pen, reining in a shudder as a frigid gust of wind whooshed past. Man, it was way too early for this kind of cold. “Tell me why you were here and what happened after you arrived.”

She burrowed deeper into her coat and repeated the same story Meyers had relayed.

He let her finish before speaking. “Was the open garage door unusual?”

“It seemed strange to me, but I haven’t worked for the Robertsons long enough to know if it’s that uncommon.”

“Has it ever been open on any of your prior visits?”

“No.”

“Same question about the deactivated security system.”

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