Page 395 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Jacob liked his solitary life.

He realized the captain was just staring at him.

“What?”

McCauley stared. “Where were you when Celia was killed?”

“Oh.” He frowned. “Sleeping, like I told you at my apartment. So why do you need me to tell you again?”

He could think of a few reasons, and none flattering the captain and his ability to do his job. More likely McCauley had been there the other day to ask this same question with the express purpose of throwing Addie into Jacob’s private space and seeing how he reacted.

Maybe McCauley figured he would snap. Kind of like right now.

“New evidence has come to light.”

“Oh?” Jacob frowned. “What’s that?”

“Nothing you need to worry about right now. What you need to worry about is telling me the truth. It might help explain this new evidence.” McCauley sighed. “So how about this. When we look at your computer—which we will soon enough—are we going to find photos of Celia Jessop?”

“You get that I’m a professional photographer, right?” Jacob frowned. “Or do you think that’s just a cover so I can give in to some dirty secret you’re so certain I’m hiding?”

“I guess we’ll find out as soon as the warrant comes through.”

They were going to tear apart his entire life. “How about I save you some trouble?”

“How’s that?”

Jacob leaned forward slightly. “I. Didn’t. Kill. Her.”

“I can see why you might want a judge to believe you were cooperative, so they can take that into account when murder charges are filed.”

“Because you think all I’m trying to do is look good?” Jacob said. “Because I’m so guilty?”

“You tell me.”

The truth was, Jacob didn’t feel the need to plead his case. He could scream and cry over the injustice of being accused, but there would be no evidence he’d killed that girl. How could there be when he didn’t do it?

“I was asleep.” Jacob shrugged one shoulder. “How could I have killed her when I didn’t leave my apartment?” He paused a second to wonder how diabolical the police thought he was since Hank was at his place for breakfast when Jacob had come back from the gym.

“That only leaves the onus on me to prove you did.”

That didn’t sound like a happy invitation. “I guess it does.” Jacob had to wonder—again—why they brought him in suddenly now. “Unless there’s some evidence I don’t know about.”

McCauley nodded. “When you’re arrested, you’ll want to talk to your lawyer about trying to explain how your fingerprint is on a clear, sticky residue affixed to the victim’s abdomen.”

“My fingerprint?”

He nodded again.

“On like, glue?”

“You tell me.” McCauley paused. “It’s your print. A partial one, anyway.”

“So not a print, but a bit of one that you think is mine?” That sounded inconclusive at best. “I haven’t seen Celia for two weeks where I was even close enough to touch her. Why wouldn’t she have taken a shower since?”

“That might be an angle you want to take up with your lawyer. When you need one.” McCauley’s eyes flashed. For a second he looked pretty smug. “A partial match is still a match.”

Jacob stood. If that were true, they’d have a warrant for his arrest already.

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