Page 61 of Tessa's Trust

“That’s what I figured,” I said. “You don’t seem like a killer.”

“I’m not.” Morrison’s eyes got wide. “The guy put my brother in jail, and penance had to be paid.”

I scratched my chin, careful to keep my hair covering the hickey below my ear. “So, hypothetically, you just shot at Basanelli to scare him? You weren’t trying to kill anybody?”

“Of course, not. I’d never kill anybody,” Morrison said. “That’s stupid.”

Okay, so this was interesting. “But why did you have my picture?”

Morrison shifted his weight slightly on the seat. “Hypothetically, if somebody gave me your picture, then they wanted you to be scared, too.”

I perked up. “Somebody wanted to frighten me?”

He scratched his chin. “Let’s just say if I were going to scare somebody by shooting toward them, it would either be as payback for my brother or because somebody paid me to scare them.”

Who would pay him to frighten me, and why? I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

“Me either. Life is hypothetical, you know?”

I sat for a moment and tried to think of the best way to ask this, but I knew he wouldn’t answer me. “So, if Nick and I hadn’t been together, would a hypothetical shooter have fired upon us at separate times?”

“Sure. But I have to tell you, I’m sure it would be very convenient for said hypothetical shooter if you were in the same place at the same time.” He smiled, and I swore it was almost charming.

“What if he had hit us?”

He sat back as if stunned. “You think I don’t know where I’m shooting? Not that I was shooting,” he hastened to add. “But, hypothetically, I knew exactly how to fire. I’ve never hit anything by accident.”

Well, I guessed there was that. “Who tried to scare me, Ozzie?” I asked softly.

He shook his head.

“How much did they pay you to do it?”

He stared at the dismal walls.

“Okay, hypothetically, how much would it cost for somebody who’s an experienced shooter like you to try to scare somebody like me?”

“Hypothetically?”

I rolled my eyes since this was getting ridiculous. “Absolutely.”

“About two thousand dollars.”

“Wow, somebody really wanted me scared,” I murmured.

He gave one short nod and then refused to say another word.

Chapter 23

Detective Pierce met me outside the interrogation room and escorted me back to his office. “You did a good job,” he murmured.

“I did? I felt like a total idiot.” I took one of his two guest chairs and sat, my hands shaking. I hadn’t realized I was scared until I left the room. “Ozzie Morrison doesn’t seem like a horrible guy.”

“He probably isn’t. He’s just a moron.” Pierce crossed around his desk and sat. “He did shoot in the vicinity of people, and I don’t care if he’s a crack shot, he could have hurt somebody. I have no doubt he’ll be prosecuted.”

“Oh, he deserves it,” I said. “Does that mean I’m a witness in that case?”

“Yep.”

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