Page 7 of Over the Edge

“Anyone connected with a crime is a person of interest.”

She groped behind her for the cruiser and sagged back against it. “This is surreal.”

“I can get you out of here faster if you’ll give us permission to examine your vehicle rather than make us wait for a search warrant.”

“Have at it.” She waved a hand toward the back of the house. “There’s nothing incriminating in my car except the candy bar I splurged on for lunch and never got to finish.”

“Would you like to wait in the cruiser again, out of the cold?”

She eyed it, her reluctance to spend any more time in the back of a police car obvious. But in the end she bowed to logic. “Yes. Thanks.”

Jack signaled Meyers to rejoin them. “Ms. Barnes will borrow your backseat again while we check out her vehicle.” As the man unlocked the door and pulled it open, Jack once more extended his hand toward the chef, whose manner remained as glacial as the air. “Thanks for your assistance.”

“My hands are like ice. I wouldn’t want to give you frostbite.” She sidled away from his outstretched fingers and slid into the car.

Meyers closed the door behind her and turned to him. “What did you do to rankle her?”

“Nothing. I just asked the standard questions in my usual polite manner.”

“Huh. Even though she was shook earlier, she wasn’t unfriendly. Maybe the events of the day are catching up with her.”

“Could be.”

Yet as he walked back to the rear of the house, that explanation didn’t ring true. While anyone would be upset after going through a life-threatening experience, that wasn’t why Lindsey Barnes had frozen him out.

For whatever reason, she’d taken an instant dislike to him.

Which didn’t sit well.

Tamping down a surge of annoyance, he turned up the collar of his coat.

Why should he care what a stranger thought about him? He ought to put their encounter out of his mind and concentrate on the looming murder investigation. A man lay dead inside the walls of this high-end house, and finding the killer deserved his full focus.

If he’d rubbed Lindsey wrong, so be it. As long as she didn’t end up a suspect, he never had to see her again.

Instead of giving him comfort, however, that notion left him feeling somehow disappointed.

Weird.

But that wasn’t a subject worth pondering when he had vehicles to search, neighbors to talk to, security camera footage to review, and interviews to conduct—including one with the dead man’s wife once she was located and the police chaplain broke the bad news.

A task that never got easier, even after more than a decade in law enforcement. And one he wasn’t looking forward to on this cold November afternoon.

Two

THE COP WHO HAD THE KEYSto the cruiser was heading her way.

Finally.

Lindsey drew a shaky breath and tried to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold wind whistling around the car. In here, it was toasty. But after everything else that had happened today, being confined in the back of a locked police car wasn’t conducive to peace of mind. Nor was the whole crime scene experience.

Especially for someone with her history.

At least Jack Tucker hadn’t returned to free her. If she never saw him again it would be too soon.

How ironic was it that he, of all people, would be assigned to handle this case?

At least he hadn’t recognized her name. If Clair had mentioned her, she must have just used her first name.

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