Page 113 of Brutal Ice

“We searched your house,” Curran told him even as the uniform put the plastic bag down right in the middle of the table and then walked out. “You have a nice knife block in your kitchen. Very fancy. Very high-end.”

Sweat trickled down Micah’s back.

“Weird thing, though,” Curran continued as he scratched his chin. “One knife was missing from that block. Want to guess which one?”

He stared through the plastic. He could have sworn that he saw dried blood on the blade. Simone’s blood?

“Don’t say a word,” his lawyer instructed. He clamped a hand on Micah’s shoulder.

Micah shoved that hand away. Don’t say a word? Was the guy crazy? “I’m being framed!”

“Oh, yeah? Who’s framing you?” Curran wanted to know.

“The real killer!” Clearly. “Someone stole my knife.”

“So it is your knife?” Teresa pushed.

“I—”

“My client has nothing to say,” the lawyer interrupted fiercely. “Not like my client can look at some random knife and know who it belongs to!”

“Not random.” Teresa’s response was cool. “That knife is the murder weapon.”

“Not a word,” his lawyer bit out. “You don’t have anything to say to them, Micah.”

Wrong. He had plenty to say. He wasn’t going to be locked away. He was not. “Someone stole the knife! It probably has my print on it because it was mine, but the real killer must have worn gloves, so he didn’t leave his prints on the damn thing.” His breath heaved out. “I was stabbed. He stabbed me.”

The lawyer cleared his throat. Loudly. “Have you received the results from the examination of the switchblade?”

“The blade that Violet used on her attacker?” Teresa flickered a glance the lawyer’s way. “We’re still searching for that weapon.”

“You haven’t found it?” Micah exploded. “Hello! Isn’t that a giant red flag? The killer obviously took it from the scene. He is setting me up!”

“Did this mysterious killer also date Fiona Law?” Teresa wanted to know.

Shit. “That was a brief hookup,” he gritted. “A friend introduced us.”

“Uh, huh.” Curran crossed his arms over his chest. “And does this friend have a name?”

“I am not a killer!”

Curran opened his mouth to reply.

And the door to the interrogation room opened again. It was the same young cop who’d come in a few moments before. The kid’s face appeared tense. “The doctor…she found more.”

More? And what doctor?

Teresa rose. She hurried toward the cop. Whispered with him.

More sweat trickled down Micah’s back.

“Don’t say another word,” the lawyer groused.

Teresa turned back toward them. “I didn’t realize that your great-uncle was the owner of the Freemont Winery.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You didn’t mention that fact before,” Teresa said. “I actually discovered it last night after doing a ton of research on several shell companies.”

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