Page 69 of Cold as Hell

Now it’s my turn to sigh. “In trying to make Haven’s Rock better, we’ve opened ourselves up to a million more moral and ethical dilemmas, haven’t we?”

“We’ll figure them out. For now, the unhappy marriage only gives Grant motive for murder. I don’t suppose he’s hinted at leaving early?”

“He’s done more than hint. Since they were here for Lynn and she’s gone, he wants to leave. He’s been very clear on that, which gives him a definite motive for murder.”

“It does indeed.”

Émilie and I only talk for a few more minutes, mostly nailing down any potential problems with Dalton and me leaving mid-investigation. While residents sign a zillion forms absolving us of all liability, that’s mostly for show.

What if someone is injured by the killer while Dalton and I are away and the victim threatens to go to the authorities? Émilie would certainly try to buy their silence, but if they refused that, it doesn’t matter whether those forms protect us from liability—Haven’s Rock would be exposed. More importantly, are we in breach of duty by havingbothme and Dalton leave? I’m the one with the health emergency.

Émilie doesn’t see an issue. Unlike Dalton, Anders has formal training from his experience in military policing. Leaving our deputy in charge of the investigation works, and with such a small town, we have more than enough staff for security.

After that call, it’s time to interview Thierry again. I’ve been postponing this one in hopes of finding more to use. Hell, I’d settle for proof that he was having an affair with Lynn. I just need leverage. Otherwise, I’m asking the same questions in hopes of spooking him into slipping up.

That’s what I do. I ask the same questions, hammering particularly on his whereabouts the day of the storm. He does start to sweat, quite literally perspiring. Is that a sign of guilt? Not necessarily. When the police keep harping on the same points, a suspect begins to worry that we’re about to reveal the big gotcha.

Tell me again where you were the night of the murder. Are you sure? Absolutely sure? Well, then explain why you were seen…

I push hard, but all he does is sweat, which could mean he’s guilty or could just mean he’s worried about being framed for a crime he didn’t commit.

I’ve arranged for Anders to come by twenty minutes into the interview. That lets him tell Thierry that he’ll be taking over and do a bit of posturing.

Casey’s leaving, but I’m in charge now. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. She’s told me everything. If you’re seen talking to a woman or setting foot in the Roc or stepping outside the town boundaries, you’re being shipped south for a proper interrogation.

We leave Thierry and head out into the cold, as I pull my scarf up higher against the wind.

“You get anywhere with him?” Anders asks.

“Nope. He’s sticking to his story, even under threat.”

“Hmm. I will definitely keep my eye on him, but I suspect the guy’s only crime was some gentle flirting with a married woman.”

I don’t answer. I agree, but I don’t want to influence his investigation.

“Also,” Anders says, “Eric’s over at the hangar getting the plane ready. He says you’ve got about another hour.”

“I shouldn’t even need that much. I just have one more stop, and then I’m ready to go.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Anders says.

When I don’t answer, he says, “You need to leave, Case. If you don’t and anything goes wrong with the baby, you’ll blame yourself, whether leaving could have helped or not.”

I nod.

He squeezes my shoulder. “You go, relax and have a baby, and when you come back with the little one, everything here will be quiet.” He glances over at me. “Note that I said everythingherewill be quiet. Your house will be another story. Nonstop crying and fussing… and that’s before the baby chimes in. You’re going to be itching for a crime to solve, to get out of the house.”

“Just make it a small crime. Maybe a nice theft. We—” I see Mathias stalking from the butcher shop ahead. “And there’s my interview target. Let me talk to him, and I’ll catch up with you before we leave.”

“Have fun!” Anders calls as I stride to catch up with Mathias.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Mathias!” I call. “I need to speak to you.”

I’m speaking in French, but he keeps walking. I repeat it in English.

Then, “Mathias! If you fucking make me run after you in my condition, I swear I will see you evicted from this damn town no matter what goddamn blackmail you threaten me with.”

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