Page 80 of What We May Be

“Scared for everyone I love, but a little less so now that you’re here.” He leaned his forehead against hers and heaved a weary sigh. As much as this was wearing on her, she could at least focus on the police work. Trevor, on the other hand, was at the center of a storm that just kept intensifying around him. “What the hell is going on?”

“We’re going to figure it out. I promise.”

“Charlie,” came Sean’s voice from the conference room.

She leaned back and patted Trevor’s chest. “Let me go talk to Beth. See what else we can find out. We’ll check in with you after.”

Trevor reluctantly released her, and she half suspected it was only because it was to go to Sean. He held the conference room door open for her and the short, balding man across the table, Beth’s attorney Charlie assumed, stood. The bedraggled-looking woman, however, remained seated. Her mousy-brown hair was limp and greasy, and her brown eyes were dull and ringed with dark circles. She looked tired, scared, and confused. What she didn’t look was guilty.

“Ms. Martin,” Sean said, “this is Deputy Charlotte Henby. Charlie, this is Beth Martin and her attorney, Aaron Goldstein.”

Charlie held out her hand, shaking both of theirs before lowering herself into the chair next to Sean. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

“I’m being set up,” Beth blurted.

Aaron admonished his client.

“No.” She laid a hand on his forearm in a way that spoke to more than just an attorney–client relationship. “They have to understand I didn’t do this.” Her wide eyes swung back to her and Sean. “I was in Georgia last night. I wasn’t even here when the mayor got killed.”

Sean leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. “Did you know Mayor Rowan?”

“Other than seeing him on TV or around town in passing, no. I stay out of politics. I’ve got way more interesting things to do with my time.”

The remarks were dismissive in the way someone would speak of any politician, not of a murder victim targeted for his past misdeeds. If his furrowed brow and narrowed eyes were any indication, Sean thought the same. She tapped his foot twice beneath the table, and with a slight head tilt, he gave her the go-ahead to lead.

“Ms. Martin, why did you take off for Georgia yesterday morning?”

“I’ve been following the case in the news. I mean, like, how could you not? It’s been the lead story all week. It’s like a novel come to life—gruesome killings, the FBI investigating, police and press crawling all over campus. I’ve never been somewhere where the news happens right under my nose. I’ve been telling all my online friends about it. So exciting. But never in a million years did I think I’d wind up in the middle of it. Leave me out of that part of the novel. Those marshals were hot and all but so not worth it.”

“Beth,” Aaron warned, attempting to curtail his client’s ramble.

“Sorry, got carried away there.” She folded her hands on the table. “I’m here because you found that sharps bag in my trash, right?”

“Yes,” Charlie said. “Would you care to explain that?”

“I took out my trash yesterday morning and found that bag in there. I volunteer at the hospital, so I know what goes in those. I already had on a pair of cleaning gloves, so I opened the bag. I’d heard enough about the case to figure those guys had been drugged, and when I saw the syringes and Diprivan bottles, I freaked. I have no idea where they came from. I know I should have called 911 or something, but I panicked. My fiancé lives in Georgia. Both he and his brother”—she patted Aaron’s arm—“are criminal defense attorneys. So I ran to them for help.”

“You couldn’t have just called?”

“Like I said, I was freaked. Like way the heck out.”

“My future sister-in-law acts before she thinks sometimes,” Aaron added.

Consistent with a busybody who talked and acted before she thought. Inconsistent with a murderer who carried out brutal, calculated killings.

“You said you didn’t personally know Mayor Rowan,” Charlie said. “Did you know Julian Hirsch?”

“Unfortunately.” Beth shifted forward in her chair and affected a conspiratorial whisper. “He asked me out last year, but I was engaged already. Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have touched that man with a ten-foot pole, no matter how hot he was. Might as well have had love ’em and leave ’em stamped on his forehead. Then I found out he was sleeping with one of my students, Sarah Barnett. I know his wife, Tracy, from the hospital. She’s kind of a bitch, but I didn’t want that man taking advantage of Sarah. So I told Tracy. They hadn’t been married long. I thought she’d pitch a fit, maybe get him to back off Sarah. She’s a good girl, real smart, and I knew her father was running for office. I didn’t want her to get in trouble. That’s why I asked her about your officers coming to talk to her. I feared the worst.”

Charlie inched back, distancing herself from Beth’s gossipy tone. Why someone would willingly insert themselves into such a sordid mess when they had no personal stake in it was beyond her.

Sean, who’d pushed his chair back even farther, redirected. “We also understand Jefferson Marshall vetoed your tenure.”

“See?” She threw up her hands, right back to panicked. “This is why I ran. I knew this would all come back to bite me in the ass. I was just trying to help them out.”

“Them?” Sean queried.

“Sarah and Tracy. Girl power and all that. I couldn’t care less about Professor Marshall. Being denied tenure at HU was the best thing that ever happened to me. I guest lectured at UGA last year, met my fiancé, and UGA offered me a tenure-track position. I’m out of here at the end of this summer, assuming my offer isn’t yanked after all this.” She placed her hand on Aaron’s arm again as she pulled out her phone with the other. “I need you and Daniel to call your contacts at UGA while I reschedule the appointment with my real estate agent.”

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