Page 124 of Fatal Witness

Gem thumped her tail and looked up at Mark.

“Free,” he said with a laugh, and the dog bounded around the end of the counter. “How are you today, Mr. Peterson?”

He looked up from petting Gem. “Got a little indigestion. Must’ve been the spaghetti I had for lunch.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is Kyle around?”

Mr. Peterson’s smile faded. “Here I was hoping you’d come just to visit. Kyle was sick, took off again today.”

Mark blinked. He’d never known the man to take a day off, and it sounded like he’d taken more than one. “Is he sick?”

“A customer mentioned Toby’s death yesterday afternoon, and it shook him up, and—”

Mark hadn’t realized word had gotten out about Toby. “Do you know what customer told him about Toby?” he asked.

“He didn’t say, just told me to come, that he had to leave.”

“Why would Toby’s death upset him?” Mark asked.

“Can’t tell you that, just that by the time I got here, he was allworked up about losing his job again—I think it was seeing the Bennett girl last week. It didn’t help that his old girlfriend called to tell him the Chattanooga police had questioned her again about the night of the murders at the request of Alex Stone.” Mr. Peterson looked at him over his glasses. “Know anything about that?”

“I knew she was going to be questioned. Dani Bennett is still in danger, and we believe it’s tied to the murders of her parents. We’re looking at everyone and everything.”

“If you’re looking at Kyle, you’re wasting your time. He didn’t kill those people.” The older man absently rubbed Gem’s head. “I wish you’d leave him alone. He was really down and out this morning when he called. He said he wasn’t able to get out of bed.”

Mark didn’t want to push anyone over the edge, but maybe it wasn’t him pushing. A guilty conscience could make a person sick. “Hopefully we’ll get this wrapped up soon.”

Mark scanned the notes he’d taken the last time he’d been here. He didn’t see where he’d asked about Kyle’s whereabouts a week ago. “Has your grandson taken any other days off lately?”

“I’m done talking about Kyle. You got any other questions?”

Mark had never seen this side of the old man. He’d come back to this question before he left. Besides, he still had a few questions about Toby he wanted to ask. “Did Toby ever tell you what went wrong during the burglary?”

Mr. Peterson glanced toward the back of the store almost like he was looking for the man. “Yeah, he told me several times, and it never changed.

“Toby met them at the jewelry store and waited at the back door after Keith picked the lock. Bobby and Keith entered the store and got into the safe, and Toby stayed by the door. Toby thinks they had the combination. As soon as they had the safe opened, an alarm went off. They all took off, but Toby got caught.”

“They let him take the fall?”

“Same thing I asked him, but Toby insisted that was the wayit was supposed to be. If anything went wrong, everyone was supposed to scatter. Toby just went the wrong direction and met a police car in the alley coming to investigate the alarm. They arrested him on the spot.”

Mark tapped his pad. “Why do you think Kyle’s boss fired him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the boss was the inside man and saw an opportunity to put the blame on someone else. But to tell the truth, I was glad Kyle lost that job. He was in over his head—got promoted beyond his abilities. Working twelve, fifteen hours a day. He was losing weight, had ulcers...” Mr. Peterson rubbed his left arm. “Even though managing the store was killing him, he never would’ve quit. I needed him here, to help me run the store.”

And he still needed him. Anything he told Mark would be filtered through that lens. He’d always known Mr. Peterson as an honest man, but then how well did Mark actually know him? The man was sweating bullets right now. “You’ve said that Kyle didn’t kill Bobby and Neva Bennett. What do you base that on, other than him being your grandson?”

Mark had taken a risk, asking more questions about Kyle.

Peterson flexed his fingers, then slid his hand in his pocket. “You don’t live to be nearly a hundred without learning a thing or two about human nature. I know my grandson, and he never killed anyone.” He pulled a tiny amber bottle from his pocket and fumbled with the cap. “I think you better leave. I’m not feeling good.”

Mark’s phone chimed, and he checked it. His breath caught in his chest. Dani had sent the text five minutes ago, and he hadn’t heard the first alert.

I think someone is in the house.

His heart almost stopped. “I’ll be back—I gotta leave!”

Before he could move, the old man clutched his chest and fellforward onto the counter. Mark ran over and eased Mr. Peterson to the floor. Not a heart attack now. Dani needed him.

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