“That sounds wise,” Sam said.
Maggie sighed. “I can’t believe they’re dead. All of them.”
If you only knew.
“Please. Maggie. I am so in the dark here. I’m just a medical examiner from Nashville. I’m not supposed to be involved in all of this. My connection to Donovan is over a decade old. His mother asked me to come do a secondary autopsy, and suddenly I’m thrust into this investigation as a pawn, apparently. The reporter, Taranto, told me things that I don’t understand. I’ve tried to be patient, but I need to know what’s going on. I need to know why I’m involved.”
A deep voice came from the door.
“Then we’ll try to explain it.”
Xander was back.
Chapter Fifty
Savage River
Dr. Samantha Owens
Xander took up most of the doorway. He held a rifle in his hands. Sam wasn’t good with guns, but this looked very similar to the ones she’d seen in Donovan’s photograph. Which meant it was powerful, military-grade, and Xander held it like it was an extension of his body.
Dangerous. This man was more dangerous than anyone she’d ever met.
He watched her eyeing the weapon. He passed his hand over the trigger, then grasped the stock and set it carefully against the wall. He held his empty hands open as if to say,Okay, I’ve disarmed myself. I’m vulnerable. Now it’s your turn.
“Where do you want me to start?” Xander asked.
That was an excellent question. But first…
“Where have you been? Did you see Fletcher? Can I call him and let him know I’m okay?”
Xander shook his head. “Detective Fletcher and the remainder of his crew are fine. They’re all with a friend of mine, getting settled down for the night. When the time is right, Dr. Owens, I’ll get you back with him. But now is not the time. So, what other questions do you have?”
Shit. Fletcher was going to kill her, if Xander and Maggie didn’t do it first. Would Xander really give her answers? Then she might as well start with the biggie.
“Who killed Donovan and Croswell? And why is your DNA at Everett’s house?”
“I don’t know who killed them.”
“Come on. You expect me to believe that?”
Xander settled at the kitchen table, accepted a beer and some stew from Maggie. He took his time answering. Sam realized how very measured he was: in his manner, his words, his actions, everything. No wonder he’d stalked off earlier—rather than say something or lose his temper, he walked away.
That said something about his character.
Finally, he set down his spoon and said, “You’ll have to believe it, because it’s true. All I know for sure is it was someone Donovan trusted, and Croswell. Someone they knew, who was intimately familiar with their lives. Neither one of them would deviate from their schedule without good cause. Once a soldier, always a soldier.”
“Xander, you realize you’re describing yourself.”
He quirked a smile at her. “Unfortunately, yes. Who do the police think did it?”
“You.”
“No, they don’t. Not really. Who else?”
“Maggie.”
The woman’s eyebrows raised and she immediately looked scared. “Me? They think I’m involved? My God, Xander. What are we going to do?”