Page 49 of Crossroads of Betrayal
But he was right. Danger lurked at the retreat, and she had to do whatever she could to stop it or else she might lose the man she loved.
Again.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Zeke entered the stand-alone brick police station just off the town square of his own volition, but he might as well have been led in with handcuffs and a giant guilty sign. A half-dozen gazes singed the back of his neck as he walked past. Officers swiveled around at their desks or stopped as they poured a cup of coffee to watch him being escorted into an office on the far side of the building.
“Take a seat,” Lincoln said, nodding toward one of two chairs across the desk. He shut the door then settled into the leather chair on the opposite side.
“Thought I’d be in an interrogation room or something.” Zeke added a laugh to the end of his statement to hide his apprehension. Between serving in the military and his job as a firefighter, he’d been in a lot of precarious situations in his life. None of them tested his nerves like sitting across from a police officer who thought he was guilty of murder.
Lincoln cracked a tiny smile as he searched through a drawer and pulled out a manilla file. “That room’s the size of a shoebox. Makes me anxious. Cruz’s office will work just fine. Now tell me. How did those bullets get in your pocket?”
“I put them there.”
Lincoln’s eyebrows jumped up to his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“When I was at the shooting range with Grace, she’d placed some spare bullets on the stand. A few rolled off. I picked them up and placed them in my pocket. Something I’d forgotten about with everything that went down afterward.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Sweat coated his palm from the tiny hairs on his nape, making nausea squeeze his gut. “Hell, I’d forgotten I’d picked up those bullets until you found them.”
“You realize how this looks, don’t you?”
“Not good. I get that. But you can’t honestly believe I killed either of those women.”
Lincoln tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “Really? Let’s lay out the facts. You were the last known person to speak with Tessa. Tessa’s identification card was found in your cabin, in your backpack. Your wedding ring was next to a murder victim, beside the casings for the type of bullets found in your pocket.”
Each sentence crashed against his chest as the building blocks of perceived guilt stacked up. “Someone broke into Joan’s cabin to get that card. Why is it difficult to think that the same person broke into mine? There’s no way I had anything to do with this.”
“There was a time gap from when you were seen at the lodge that night and when Joan reported the break in. Time where you have no alibi. Same as the night Shelly went missing and Joan was attacked.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “And what about when a truck raced toward Grace? You think I’m responsible for that too?”
Lincoln scratched the whiskers on his chin. “I don’t know a lot about your relationship with Grace, but from where I’m sitting, it looks pretty damn complicated. And complicated relationships can get messy.”
Zeke balled his hands into fists. “I would never hurt Grace. I’d die for her. I’ve loved her since the minute I met her, and nothing will change that.”
Lincoln’s eyes widened for a brief second before his stoicism returned. “And does she feel the same way?”
The question made him squirm in his seat. He hooked his ankle over his knee to hide his fidgeting. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Not to mention he had no idea how Grace felt. A topic he hadn’t broached partly due to respecting her need for healing and partly because he was terrified to know the answer.
“Unrequited love can lead to obsession and anger. Hell of a good reason for murder.”
He stiffened, refusing to flinch under Lincoln’s unwavering stare.
Screw this. He’d come to the police station willingly, intending to answer any question thrown his way. But that didn’t mean he had to sit here taking this cop’s shit, not defending himself or tossing out alternative theories that should be studied. “Does that mean you’ve looked into Tessa’s love life?”
Lincoln frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Maybe she has a scorned lover or obsessed stalker who followed her here and shoved her off a cliff.”
Lincoln pressed his mouth into a hard line. “I’m not discussing my investigation with you.”
“And what about the crime ring she was investigating before she came here? Even Joan agreed a number of criminals slipped through the cracks and could want revenge for being betrayed. Revenge for having their livelihood ripped away. Have you tugged that line yet?”
“We’re not here for you to question how I do my job,” Lincoln shot back. “We’re here to discuss why all of your things keep showing up in the worst possible places. Why you, out of everyone else around, have looked the most suspicious from the moment Tessa’s body was found at the base of a mountain.”
Struggling to contain his temper, Zeke ran his tongue over his top line of teeth. “I thought we were here to get to the bottom of things. For you to listen to me when I tell you, again, I’m innocent. I explained where those bullets came from. Hell, I’m the one who called you when Tessa’s card was found in my bag. The same bag where my wedding ring was before someone stole it. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I must be one dumbass criminal to conveniently leave all this evidence right in front of your nose.”
The tiniest hint of a smile cracked through Lincoln’s gruff expression. “You’d take the cake for sure. But I’m not arresting you. I’m not accusing you. I’m questioning you, just like I’d do to anyone else who had a mountain of evidence stacked against them.”
