Page 33 of Call Back

Brady was keeping me upright, and Ava was watching the whole scene with her eagle- sharp eyes. I needed to pull myself together.

I glanced up into Brady’s worried eyes. “Is it true?”

He gave Ava a sharp frown before turning his attention back to me. “Yes. But I wanted to tell you myself. I know she was your attorney when you were questioned about Goodwin’s murder.”

My legs felt strong enough to bear my weight, so I pulled free, wrapping my arms around my chest in an attempt to hold myself together. “Her murder was the case you were called out for this morning.”

“Yes.”

I gave a sharp nod. Was that why he’d acted so strangely this morning? “What happened?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you any details.” At least he sounded apologetic about it.

“Where did it happen?”

When he didn’t respond, Ava piped up. “She was murdered in her apartment. Her neighbor saw her dog in the hallway, scratching at the door and trying to get back in. She knocked on the door to find out why the dog was loose at three in the morning, but the door swung open. Emily was dead in the kitchen. Blood everywhere.”

A new wave of queasiness washed over me.

“Ms. Milton,” Brady said in a stern tone.

“What?” she asked, looking pleased with herself. “You may not be able to tell her the official facts, but I’m at liberty to tell her what I know.”

“It’s hearsay,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“And yet it’s true. I don’t spread gossip, Detective Bennett. I only tell the facts.”

Brady didn’t contradict her, so I knew what she’d said was the truth.

I felt lightheaded again, but I tried not to look as horrified as I felt. I’d done this. I’d killed Emily Johnson.

I sat down on the edge of the sofa, knowing that Ava would probably have a fit over me sitting on her furniture, but it was better than passing out on the floor. So many questions raced through my head, but I couldn’t risk asking Brady any of them. What if he made the connection? I glanced up at him, surprised by the worry in his eyes, and wondered if I should tell him everything I knew. About that night ten years ago, and the texts I’d been receiving ever since my return to Franklin. But I had nothing concrete to tell the police. Was I really willing to gamble the lives of the people I cared about? My stalker had sent me a photo of Belinda last week, along with a not-so-subtle threat, so I was damn lucky she was still alive.

Brady was watching me like a hawk, looking like he was ready to swoop in and hug me again, but I had the overwhelming urge to do this on my own.

“Thanks for coming to tell me,” I said as I stood. Then I shot a dark look at Ava since she’d technically been the one to break the news—and none too gently. But nothing else in my life had been gentle. Why expect gentleness now? “I need to get back to work.”

His eyes hooded. “I didn’t just come to tell you about her death. I’m here to convince you to spend the rest of the day at my apartment.”

“Why?”

“There’s a murderer on the loose, Maggie.” But the look he gave me let me know he thought I had a particular reason to worry.

I looked back at Ava, who still stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I need to talk to Brady for a moment. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and you can dock the time I spend talking to him.” I didn’t wait for an answer, just shoved Brady through the open front door onto the porch and closed the door behind me.

“Why do you work for her?” he asked in disgust as he stared at the now-closed door.

“Because it’s part of my lease agreement.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m not adding to my indentured servitude by standing out here talking about the fairness of it. I want you to be straight with me. Why did you really come over?”

“To tell you about Emily.”

“And . . . ?”

“I was worried about you.”

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