Page 98 of Pepper, the Biker & the Vanishing Body

My dad waited until Stone left, then squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later, Pepper.” And with that, he hurried after Stone.

Amy and Beau were already finished with their interviews and waiting for us when we emerged from my dad’s office.

Amy groaned. “I need a scalding hot shower after crawling through that tunnel with rats.”

“You didn’t crawl, and there were barely any rats,” I corrected, chuckling.

She shuddered. “One rat is too many.”

As we walked toward our vehicles, Beau asked, “So, Pepper, who do you think did it—Anderson or Swatcher?”

I let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” I admitted, for a second time and annoyed that I hadn’t cracked that part of the mystery yet. “The whole thing needs to be picked apart. Like… where did Waters fit into all of this? Could he and Swatcher have been working together? Or is Anderson actually guilty?”

Amy sighed. “That’s a lot of unanswered questions.”

I nodded. And I hated unanswered questions. Because that meant one thing.

This wasn’t over yet.

Ianand I had barely settled on the couch—me curled up against him with a glass of wine, Ian absently rubbing Mo’s ears when he suddenly rushed to the door. Someone he knew was coming up the driveway.

Mo, talented at many things, unlocked the door.

Ian smiled. “Your dad.”

I wasn’t surprised. He had said he’d talk with me later, and knowing him, he wouldn’t wait until morning. Amy had gone straight home with Beau, muttering about needing to “detox from the tunnel of nightmares.”

My dad greeted Mo with a good rub and a, “Hi, Mo.”

He still wore his uniform, his sheriff’s badge catching the warm glow from the lamp. His sharp gaze scanned the room, then landed on me. “Figured you’d still be awake.”

“Did you really think I was just going to go to bed without hearing from you?” I asked. “Come on, Dad. You raised me better than that.”

“She does have a point,” Ian said. “Can I get you something? Peach iced tea perhaps?”

Ian knew that was my dad’s favorite.

“Thanks, Ian. I’d love a glass.” Dad sighed, lowering himself into the armchair across from us. “Figured you wouldn’t sleep until you learned more.”

Mo had followed him, tail wagging, and Dad absently scratched behind his ears. “As expected, Anderson and Swatcher wasted no time blaming each other. The second they sat down in separate interview rooms, they both claimed the other was responsible for Jones’ murder. Anderson and Swatcher are claiming the same… they were framed by the other one.”

“So, basically, a full-fledged ‘he did it, not me’ situation,” I said.

My dad nodded as he accepted the glass of peach iced tea from Ian. “Neither of them has a solid alibi. Swatcher was home alone preparing for a lecture. Anderson claims he was in his office at the university and claims someone must have seen him. So, we’re going to see if anyone can confirm that.”

I leaned forward. “And the knife?”

“Josh sent it to the lab. If Anderson’s prints are on the handle, he’ll claim it’s because he found it. If there are no prints or if they’ve been wiped clean, we’re back to square one.”

“Do you believe either of them did it?” Ian asked.

Dad rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Honestly? I’m not sure. Anderson swears that Swatcher planted the stolen coins on him because he had mentioned to him that valuable museum pieces had been stolen in the towns where Swatcher had been treasure hunting and Anderson asked if he was aware of them. Swatcher swears he has no idea what Anderson is talking about. That he never planted anything on him let alone stolen coins and he knows nothing about robberies where he went treasure hunting. He claims Anderson is jealous because he had the confidence to search for the Willow treasure while Anderson had brushed it off as a myth.”

“What does Stone think?” Ian asked.

“He says it’s too early to tell and he hopes Guy regains consciousness soon since he could probably offer some help. He believes one of the two men had to be involved in some way.”

My dad finished his tea and stood. “Your mom is keeping supper hot for us both and I am looking forward to having a meal with her since we barely have had time to see each other. I fear I will never have a homemade meal again if she gets elected mayor.”

---