Page 87 of Over the Edge

“It feels like an invasion of privacy.”

“It isn’t if she offered. Get over the guilt complex.” She leaned forward again. “What’syourtake on her stories about the car and lake and stabbing?”

He picked a loose crumb off his roll. Mashed it between his fingers. “I think she thinks they happened.”

“What if they did?”

He peeled the squashed crumb off his skin. “There’s no evidence in any of those cases to support her claims.”

“But they could have happened, right?”

“The car and lake, possibly. The attack in the park? Doubtful. I had our best crime scene tech go over the area. Hank found nothing.”

“Maybe someone didn’twanthim to find anything.”

He narrowed his eyes as her meaning registered. “Are you suggesting the attack may have been staged?”

“I’m trying to think outside the box. That said, I admit the notion of a setup is bizarre. Out in left field. A stretch. But is it possible? Yes.”

Jack stared at the salad the server set in front of him and declined a sprinkling of pepper. There was more than enough spice in his life already.

While Bri conferred with the man about changing a side for her order, Jack ran her idea through his mind.

It was kind of crazy—but her approach was rational. When investigating any case, a competent detective took all possibilities into account, no matter how off-the-wall they were.

As he should have done in this case.Wouldhave done if he hadn’t let personal feelings for a witness and his own history interfere with his usual sound judgment.

If nothing else, why not take Bri’s advice and meet with Lindsey’s psychologist? If the man’s verdict raised no red flags, it might be time to devote serious brainpower to his sister’s theory.

“Does your silence mean you think I’m losing it too?” Bri arched her eyebrows at him as she dug into her salad.

“No. I think your idea may have merit. At the very least it gives me food for thought.”

“Excellent. While you chew on that, let’s concentrate on the food at hand. I’m starved after working through lunch today, thanks to a new case that landed on my desk.”

He listened as she described the probable arson scenario, but his star witness remained top of mind.

It was hard to believe someone would move her car, go scuba diving at Creve Coeur Lake, and fake an attack in a park. That was extreme.

But if you’d committed murder and were afraid the sole witness could remember an incriminating detail, you might be willing to push the envelope to discredit that witness in order to save your hide.

It was a definite stretch—perhaps even grasping at straws—but if Lindsey’s psychologist gave him a positive report, he wasn’t going to discount any theory that provided a rational explanation for the strange experiences she’d had since this case began.

“LINDSEY, I’M SORRYwe couldn’t get you in sooner. We’ve been slammed with one crisis after another this week.” Dr. Oliver joined her in his office, closing the door behind him.

“No worries. I’m getting to be a nuisance, aren’t I?”

“Never.” He took his seat and set a large mug of coffee on the table beside him.

She did a double take. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink coffee.” Or anything other than water during their sessions.

“A rare exception to my no-caffeine rule. I was here twelve hours yesterday and it will be the same today. I needed an energy boost. Tell me what’s going on.”

“More of the same.”

“Explain that.”

As she gave him the rundown on what had happened Sunday, he sipped his coffee, expression unreadable.

---