Page 21 of Deathmarch
Harper glanced at the clock on the wall. “Your shift ended a couple of hours ago.”
“I figured I’d stay until things were squared away here.”
“I appreciate that. Could you please give Devon Abram a call to come in? Now, if he can, instead of in the morning, as a personal favor to me?”
The criminal attorney lived in town. West Chester had bigger law firms, but their guys would have trouble driving to Broslin tonight.
“Was that really Allie Bianchi?” Leila snuck in the question as she dialed.
Harper nodded. “And that’s all I know. I haven’t questioned her yet.”
“Where is her father?”
Fine, Harper knew that too. “Dead.”
Leila pressed a hand to her chest before tilting her head. “Then why is she in trouble?”
Harper walked away with a shake of his head.
Gabi was in the supply room, grabbing a new box of emergency flares from the shelf. “Stocking up my ride before heading home. Six accidents cleaned me out. People who don’t know how to drive in snow should stay home in a snowstorm.” She paused. “Heard you caught a murder.”
“Could have done without it.”
“No doubt, you’ll have it buttoned up before anyone can say ex-girlfriend’s a homicidal maniac.” She grinned, then added, “Hey, if you have some time this week, get the guys together at Finnegan’s would you? Hunter is driving me crazy, moping around the house because he couldn’t go to Quantico with his big brother.”
“It’s a sad day when a woman can’t keep her man happy and has to call in outside help.” Harper put on a tragic expression.
“Leila and I were talking about ordering the new Hi-Vis vests in neon pink. Did you know they come in a bunch of shades now, not just yellow? I mean, this place is so unrelentingly masculine. The PD could use a little color. Stationery too.” Her eyes danced with mirth. “Picture yourself at a crime scene, pulling out your little pink notebook and writing in it with a little pink pen.”
“I’ll take Hunter to target practice.”
As Gabi left—with a grin and a swagger—Harper grabbed a pair of rubber flip-flops, cotton socks, orange overalls, along with a gunpowder residue kit. And then he returned to the interview room, wishing he were anywhere else but there.
He dropped his armload on the table next to Allie before uncuffing her.
“Hold still.” He swabbed her hands and then sealed the strips in the envelope that came with them so they could be sent to the lab first thing in the morning.
She shoved those freshly checked hands under her armpits. “You’re not going to find anything.”
She was probably right about that. “You took a bath. Why not wait for your suitcase and fresh clothes?”
“I was frozen.”
“Or you were smart enough to know you had to get rid of the evidence.”
Murder crept into her eyes. When she looked at him like that, he could definitely see her committing bloody violence. Maybe she’d hardened up over the past decade, under her father’s tutelage. Everybody changed.
He pointed at the overalls. “I’ll give you some time and privacy. Coffee?”
She visibly struggled, but managed to be polite for the sake of caffeine. “Yes, please.”
“Leila is calling the attorney for you. He should be here in a little while. Devon Abram. Pretty good at what he does.”
Harper caught himself. He didn’t usually give encouragement to murder suspects. He stepped out of the room before he could say or do something even stupider, like lose himself in her bottomless eyes and the past.
He made a full pot of coffee in the break room with slow care. No rush whatsoever. He wanted to spend as little time as possible with Allie before Abram got there.
His phone rang as the last of the coffee was dripping out of the machine.
