Page 102 of Crosshairs

Ainsley was thankful for that. The woman was right. If Ainsley hadn’t gone to her house and questioned her, Connie Hanover would not have been shot.

“If you’re ready, I’ll take you to Cora’s,” Linc said. “And then we can call your dad, that is if you still want to.”

Did she? She thought about it as they took the elevator to the lobby. Just as they passed the reception area, she heard Linc groan and looked up. Sarah Tolliver was hurrying toward them, followed by her videographer.

The reporter stuck her microphone out. “Ranger Beaumont, could you answer a few questions for me?”

“Sorry, no comment.”

“Hannah Dyson’s murder—was her mother’s shooting related to it?”

“No more questions,” Linc said. He took Ainsley’s arm and tried to brush past the reporter and cameraman.

“Hold up a minute,” Ainsley said to him. “Not commenting doesn’t seem to be working. Why don’t you go get the Tahoewhile I answer a couple of her questions—that way maybe she won’t pop back up.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” She turned to Sarah as Linc hurried out the front doors. “I’m not involved in Connie Hanover’s investigation so you need to direct your questions to Sheriff Rawlings.”

“How about Drew Kingston’s shooting? Is it related?”

“I’m going to sound like a broken record,” Ainsley said, “but I’m not involved in that investigation either.”

Small frown lines appeared between Sarah’s brows. “Let’s turn to the attempts on your life. Do you think the person trying to harm you is Troy Maddox, the man we’ve been circulating photos of at the station?”

“I have no way of knowing.” She might as well use this interview to ask the public for help. Ainsley turned and looked into the camera. “If anyone recognizes the man in the photo, please do not try to apprehend him. If you see him, call the sheriff’s office immediately. Thank you.”

“I understand Maddox threatened you. How are you handling his threat?”

“The way I handle all threats—by staying watchful and taking the necessary precautions.” She’d borrowed Linc’s answer to her.

“Thank you for your input. The station will certainly do all it can to help spread the word about him.” Sarah turned toward the camera and repeated the warning to call the sheriff’s office before she signed off.

While the videographer put his equipment away, Sarah turned back to Ainsley. “I understand your aunt unearthed a couple of diaries from the mid-1800s that shed light on a murder that occurred during Reconstruction.”

“I only have one and haven’t had time to read it,” Ainsley said. “Probably won’t since I’m putting it in a lockbox tomorrow where it will be safe until my aunt recovers from her recent brain surgery.”

“I hope she recovers soon. I understand Linc is helping her with a book about that murder.”

“You’d have to ask him about that.”

A knowing smile spread across Sarah’s face. “I hope to be able to ask your aunt once she gets out of the hospital—your grandmother indicated Miss Cora might let me interview her. It’d make a great human interest piece and be good publicity for her book.” Sarah’s cell phone buzzed, and she glanced at it. “I need to catch another story. This will air at ten tonight.”

Linc’s SUV pulled up and Ainsley hurried to get in. Once she was buckled up, he exited the parking lot with the patrol car behind them. “How’d it go?”

“Mostly no comment on my part. I did get a chance to warn the public not to approach Maddox if they thought they recognized him, so it wasn’t a total waste of time. Your friend is very persistent.”

“I’m sorry. She wants to move up the ladder at the news station, and a story like Hannah’s murder is giving her an opportunity to show her stuff. Mostly she covers things like your dad’s shindig.”

“I definitely want to see the newscast tonight and make sure she included what I said about Maddox.”

He turned into Cora’s drive. “Speaking of your dad, are you going to call him? Or would you rather just drop the whole thing?”

Call or drop it? The options warred in her mind. If he didn’t show up, maybe the niggling suspicion would go away. Ainsley squared her shoulders and put the call on speaker as she dialed his number.

“I hope you’re calling to apologize,” her father said in a flat voice.

She lifted an I-told-you-so brow at Linc. “I, uh ... I am. I was upset last night.” At least that wasn’t a lie.

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