A muscle shifted in Rob’s jaw, his eyes shifting around like he had to plan what to say next. Or what to do.

  What Tate really cared about was when innocents got caught in the crossfire. Or when people close to him were hurt as a result of collateral damage. The thought of it threatened to mentally break him.

  Savannah needed to tread carefully, or she’d wind up on Rob’s list of people he had a grudge against. Tate was pretty sure his own name was underlined and highlighted—at the top. She had to be careful, or her honest attempt at a new life would blow up in her face, and her good intentions wouldn’t survive what this town did to her.

  Tate said, “Time to go, Rob. You said your peace. Now leave.”

  “I’m barely getting started.”

  He wanted to play it like that? Tate said, “Me too. And if I get what I want, not only will Claire and Elexa never again cross the threshold of your house, but you’ll never see them again for as long as you live. Unless it’s in a courtroom.”

  Rob laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

  Savannah said, “Did you just threaten your wife and stepdaughter in front of a police detective?”

  He turned his venomous stare on her. “One who consorts with the suspects she’s investigating.” Rob’s smile turned smug. “We’ll see how well it goes when everyone finds out you overlooked evidence that clearly showed Tate as the killer.”

  Eight

  Mia was at her desk when Savannah got to the police department first thing the next morning.

  “Hey.” Savannah dumped her backpack on the floor at her desk.

  Mia leaned back in her chair and stretched. “Ready to take another stab at Aggerton’s wife?”

  “In a minute.” Savannah sat. As she did, she blew out a long breath. All she’d done all night was think about Tate. And Rob. But mostly Tate.

  “We can’t hold her much longer before we either have to formally arrest her or cut her loose.” Mia said, “Is Tate okay?”

  Conroy headed their way from his office. Savannah nodded and glanced at him. “Just a cut on his arm.” She gave them a description of the guy who had attacked him.

  “I guess he’s no longer your number one suspect in this murder.”

  Conroy had a point. Savannah nodded, half with relief and half upset at the reminder of Rob Gaynes’s parting comment. She said, “I saw the killer with my own eyes.”

  And he’d gotten away.

  She stood. “We should talk to the wife again.”

  They’d had one conversation with Bernice Aggerton already. Long enough they’d realized they weren’t going to get anything but belligerence out of her, and then she’d called her lawyer. Bernice and her lawyer had been in conference when she responded to the call about Tate’s office being broken into. Savannah had been at dinner, waiting them out.

  Today was a new day. Right?

  Conroy said, “Sit back down, detective.”

  She planted her butt back in the seat. “The lawyer won’t be happy we kept her in jail overnight, but I think we should be able to get something out of her.”

  Conroy nodded. “True. Only there’s more to be said, so you’ll make them wait some more.”

  She shrugged, ready for him to just spit out whatever it was.

  “How did Tate seem?”

  What kind of question was that? “Annoyed.” Savannah said, “What’s your read on Councilman Gaynes?”

  “Now there’s a question.” Conroy pulled up a chair and sat.

  Mia offered her opinion. “He’s older than us—in college while I was still in middle school, I think. Don’t much remember him.”

  Conroy nodded. “He didn’t come back home right away. When he did, he got straight into politics. If you can call city council ‘politics.’” He shrugged. “Married Claire, gave her daughter a father. That’s what I’ve known of him since I started working here. He began climbing the ranks in this town before I graduated college.”

  Rob wasn’t “old” though, he was just a good ten or fifteen years older than Conroy and Mia. Older than Savannah—more like around Tate’s age. Mid-forties. Yeah, she was aware of the number of years between Tate’s age and hers. However, since a relationship wasn’t in their future, it didn’t exactly matter. Did it?

  Savannah told them about his visit, and what she’d learned about the nature of Rob and Claire’s relationship, that it was no surprise she’d been admitted to the hospital. Still unconscious.

  “Kaylee!” Conroy’s voice echoed across the bull pen.

  Mia said, “She isn’t in yet.”

  He got his phone out. “I’ll send her an email.”

  “For what?” Mia glanced at Savannah, but she didn’t have an answer for her.

  “So I get word the moment Claire Gaynes wakes up.”

  Savannah said, “Are you going to convince her to press charges?”

  “I’m gonna try.”

  She nodded. “If you can persuade her daughter to as well, you’ll have a better shot at Claire.” When she woke up. If she woke up. If she didn’t, the charges would look a lot different. But they would also be harder to prove.

  Conroy stilled. “You know about Elexa?”

  “I’ve seen her around.” She tried to sound nonchalant. Neither of them bought it.

  Mia leaned forward on her chair, elbows on her desk. “And..?”

  Traitor. They’d talked. She was only being like this because Conroy was here and she was using the chief’s presence to force Savannah to dish up something good.

  As if.

  Savannah shrugged. “And what? He cares about her.”

  Conroy and Mia glanced at each other, wearing looks on their faces that resembled some secret “engaged people” language that Savannah obviously wasn’t privy to. Conroy said, “And you’ve…talked to him about her?”

  Savannah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She stood. “Let’s go, Tathers. We’ve got a woman to interview.”

  Conroy stood, blocking her path.

  Savannah looked up at him. “What?”

  “I just want you to make sure you’re being careful. That’s all.”

  She recalled what Rob Gaynes had said. About her purposely overlooking evidence that pointed to a certain private investigator with a reputation for being wild. She had yet to see that, but she’d heard plenty. The idea that she’d turned the other way because of her feelings for him wasn’t something that sat well with her.

  Someone looking like Tate had been caught on surveillance. He needed to get back to her about who he thought it might be, or she’d have to assume it really was him. Evading the truth was going to get him nowhere. Now, on top of that, she had to wonder if the killer had come by his office with the plan to discard the bloody knife. Where someone would find it.

  Someone like her.

  Savannah lifted her chin. “Why would I need to be careful? There’s nothing between Tate and I. Either I’ll arrest him for killing Aggerton, or I won’t. Which do you think is more likely, considering I chased the killer from his office last night? How I feel about Tate doesn’t factor in.”

  She squeezed around him before he could object. No matter what happened in this case, she was going to keep her emotions in check. Accusations had been thrown around. The mountain of evidence she’d been working her way through—until she responded to the break-in at Tate’s—barely had a dent in it.

  Mia met her in the hall.

  Savannah joked, “At this rate, we’ll probably be unpacking this case until your wedding date.”

  Mia’s eyes flared.

  “Oh, no.”

  Mia grinned. “Why would that be bad?”

  Savannah folded her arms. “Spill. When are you getting married?”

  The only time Mia’s business face, which was still on point from her time as a federal agent, slipped? When she talked about Conroy.

  “Mia.”

  “Fine. He asked me last weekend.” She tugged a necklace from the collar of her shirt. Hanging from it was a simple silver ring with a diamond setting. “We’re getting married in the fall.”

  “That’s not enough time!” She realized too late that she’d screeched.

  “You think we’re still going to be working on this case?”

  “Goodness, no. But there are things to do. You have to have time to plan.”

  Mia said, “The beach at my dad’s house. Red and orange leaves everywhere. A small amount of people, and my dad and Conroy are going to grill chicken for lunch. Salad, lemonade. Tiny cupcakes. What’s to plan?”

  Savannah opened her mouth, realized she didn’t have anything to say, and then closed it again.

  “Will you be my bridesmaid?”

  “What?” The word came out breathy, and barely audible.

  Mia frowned. “Unless you don’t want to.”

  Why on earth would she think that? Savannah had lived here two years and Mia was the first real friend she’d made. No way would she pass up the chance to support this woman’s marriage to the best boss Savannah had ever had.

  Mia turned to the interview room. “We should—”

  “Savannah Wilcox isn’t my real name.” The words tripped over each other on the way out of her mouth.

  Mia glanced back. “It isn’t?”

  Savannah shook her head. Maybe it was time someone in her life knew the truth. There was no doubt she could trust Conroy or Mia. Maybe if she told them both the truth she wouldn’t feel so alone.

  Her friend and partner was about to ask another question when the door to the interrogation room opened. A suited man with a thinning, brown comb over stuck his head out. “Can we please get on with this? My client has waited long enough.”

  They shared a look. Then Mia said, “Very well.”

  She sat first. Savannah didn’t, choosing instead to lean against the wall.

  “Yeah.” Bernice Aggerton glared at her. “You stay over there. Don’t come any closer to me.”

  The lawyer cleared his throat, smoothing a clammy hand down his tie. “Mrs. Aggerton will be writing out a statement, detailing the subpar methods employed by this department to encourage her to come here in good faith and talk about her husband. She will also be passing along an invoice for the amount of money she lost after being forced to cancel her vacation at such a late date.”

  “Yeah, the day before.”

  “Bernice.”

  She shut her mouth.

  Savannah said, “Make sure she writes down all about how she used her purse like a baton and swung it at me.”

  The woman could embellish all she wanted, but Savannah would simply respond with completely justified assault charges.

  The lawyer glanced at Bernice, then said, “Let’s get on with the questions.”

  “Good idea.” Mia leaned back in her chair. “Mrs. Aggerton, how—”

  “You can call me Bernice.” She flashed her Hollywood teeth at Mia.

  “Okay, Bernice. How much—”

  “Because, hon.” Bernice leaned forward, like it was just her and Mia in the room. “Just between us girls, I was gonna divorce him anyway. That’s how I come to have that cruise all booked up, you know? Just me. I was gonna celebrate.”

  “You filed for divorce?”

  “Well, no. But I was gonna get to that. Soon as I got back, like.”

  “Right.” Mia said, “How much do you know about your husband’s business, his clients?”

  Bernice wrinkled her nose. “Patti…she works at the nail salon.” She wiggled her fingers so they could see her white tipped pink nails. A couple had sparkly stones glued on. “She told me he did her books.” She shrugged. “News to me.”

  Mia said, “Do you think he was well liked around town?”

  “Sho’ nuff. We had parties all the time, and we were invited places all the time, too. The theater in Upton. The casino they opened on that Res. All kinds of fancy places.”

  “Anyone from one of those fancy places seem like they had a grudge? Maybe they argued with your husband, or made threats?”

  “I see all kinds of things, you know?” She glanced at her lawyer. He nodded. Bernice said, “I couldn’t say for sure there was an argument from one of our events that I remember.”

  Savannah would put money on that being very careful wording. She figured either Bernice was busy at the slot machines while her husband chatted with his cronies, or she’d simply been too drunk at the time. If Savannah’s sense was right, she may literally not remember anything at all.

  Mia said, “What about specific clients? Is there anyone you know of personally who worked with your husband?”

  Asking about Aggerton’s nephew, Ed Summers, would be a good place to start. Summers was in jail, but whatever blood was between the two men had turned bad recently. Could be Ed had ordered a hit from jail. They knew Aggerton had held on to evidence that could be used to convict Summers. Serving the warrant and obtaining the evidence had been how Conroy managed to bring him down.

  Savannah figured they’d get more from his computer files than anything Bernice would willingly give them. This had been a waste of time. A power play, trying to see who got the upper hand. Because Bernice was the kind of woman who always had to come out on top. And Savannah had fallen right into that trap.

  Bernice shrugged. “I don’t know who hired him. Why would I? He didn’t let me in on his business. Not like that Tate Hudson, letting his sister work for him.”

  Savannah bit the inside of her lip.

  Bernice smirked—probably supposed to be a smile. Always on top. “That’s what I need to tell you. So you know what happened.”

  “Tell us what?” Mia’s tone coaxed her. “Whatever you say could help us bring in your husband’s killer.”

  “He came over. A couple of weeks ago.”

  Savannah figured Bernice was trying to look distressed. It wasn’t all that convincing. What would be a whole lot more convincing were Aggerton’s files. She should leave Mia to do this, and would, just as soon as Bernice finished up her story.

  The real work was waiting.

  She said, “Late one night. I heard them in my study arguing. Then a door slammed, and I looked out my TV room window. I saw him outside, getting into his truck with another guy.”

  Savannah bit out one word. “Who?”

  “Tate Hudson. I’m sure he’s the one who killed my husband.”

  Nine

  Hot coffee poured in a steady stream into his mug. “Thanks, Hollis.”

  “No prob, Tate.” Hollis managed the diner after her father had been injured and couldn’t run the show anymore. But she still preferred to wait on customers. Her full figure was covered with a salmon-colored waitress uniform. Her hair was light brown and caramel, her eyebrows thick brown.

  For a while, a few weeks back, he’d tried to get her to tell him what was wrong. She hadn’t taken the bait. Tate didn’t plan on letting it go, though. Hollis knew who he was. If she needed help then she would come to him, or she’d call on one of the cops who frequented this place for the waffles.

  “You want your usual?”

  Tate said, “No potatoes. Extra hot sauce.”

  “Ah, the ‘Steve.’ A dramatic variation on the ‘Saturday Tate Special.’”

  He halted his cup, halfway to his mouth. “Say what?”

  She grinned. “Nothin’.” Her smile faltered. She blinked, then shuffled out of the way when a hulk of a man passed between her and his table.

  No, not a hulk.

  A Hammer.

  He slid into the booth across from Tate, one glance at Hollis. “Coffee, please.”

  She blinked and took him in like bees to honey. “Sure, uh, hon.” She winked and popped a hip, then whirled around and nearly collided with a customer.

  Tate took in the man across from him.

  Blue, button down shirt. Glasses. A brown, leather band on the watch he wore. Tate leaned over to see under the table. Tan khakis and shined brown loafers. All he needed to complete the look was a bible and a ‘John 3:16’ pamphlet.

  He sat back upright. “I already know Jesus, but thank you.”

  “Do you really?” His companion grinned, a wolfish smile that was completely at odds with his slicked and shined appearance.

  “I know enough.”

  He went to church on occasion, and not just when he had to tail someone for a job. Even church people were investigated. Tate had listened. He understood all about sin and salvation. He just didn’t want to change everything about himself. Conroy’s words to him the last time they’d spoken still rang in his head, though. That he should give it a chance.

  Tate felt worse about Savannah though. She was doubting him, and he didn’t like that feeling at all. Leave it to Rob to basically tell her that he’d killed Aggerton. Afterwards, she’d made a bunch of excuses and run out of there.

  He wanted to talk to her. Try to explain himself.

  Hollis poured his coffee. “Cream?”

  “Just sugar.”

  “You like it sweet.” She smiled.

  Tate cleared his throat.

  She blinked, then asked his companion, “Breakfast?”

  He said, “Saturday Tate.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Tate frowned, not quite sure what had just happened. “Wait, what?”

  Hammer just sat there looking like he’d won a prize. Then he shifted, pulled a wallet from his back pocket, and slid out a driver’s license. Tate read the name aloud. “Phil Tilley? Really?”

  “Eric gave it to me. Write it down, check it out. He said it’s almost foolproof.” He grinned, apparently excited about his new—clean—identity. “Call me Phil.”

  Tate’s brother-in-law probably bust a gut laughing about that name. The only concession was that Phil probably seriously enjoyed having a break from the swill he waded through all day as The Hammer.

  Tate said, “Is Phil the one who was on the surveillance footage outside the CPA office during the time Aggerton was murdered?” His eyes swept over him again. Hammer did not dress like this. At least not normally. He’d worked for Ed Summers, had two eyebrow piercings, and a spider web tattoo on the side of his neck.