by P. Creeden
“What? How?”
Colby turned on the man in the brown suit. “Mr. Truman, you told Melinda about the practical joke, didn’t you?”
The manager in the brown suit lifted a brow. “What gives you that idea?”
“On the video footage, the reporter didn’t look the least bit surprised when the cannon went off. It was the blast of wind that sent her backwards as the cannon was set on full blast. She wasn’t surprised as much as she was pushed in the direction of the faulty railing. You had changed the location of the practical joke slightly and pointed the cannon in such a way that it would blast directly at the reporter, isn’t that right, Mr. Truman?”
The man shook his head and smirked. “Of course it’s not. Is the police into writing fiction, now?”
“Do your dress shoes have black soles, Mr. Truman?”
Slowly, the man nodded, his eyes narrowing on Colby.
“There is a black scuff mark on the gate’s latch, proving that the last person to press the latch had on black soles.”
Mr. Truman huffed. “I’m sure I’m not the only person aboard the ship who has black soles on their shoes.”
Colby lifted a brow. “You’re right, there, but Emma and I overheard you talking with the victim just as the boat began this journey. We got the distinct impression you were warning her about the very practical joke that was coming up in order to get her to change the position of the cannon herself.”
The man crossed his arms over his chest. “This is a nice story, but what proof do you have?”
“I’m certain if we check the cannon for prints, we will find a set of prints matching the victim’s. You told her about the practical joke because you overheard Sean talking to his cousin about it. You set the cannon on high and then you told the victim so that she would aim the cannon toward herself, in a new direction. Only she didn’t know about the power of the blast of air from the cannon. Nor did she know about the gate that had been propped open behind her.”
The man sat there, frowning, but glanced up once toward Emma as though gauging his ability to blow past her like a football linebacker. She swallowed and gripped the leashes tighter.
“Both of you knew about her inability to swim, and the Potomac is a fast moving river. Even the most experienced swimmer would struggle against the currents. And the boat was moving away from her, making it very likely that she would succumb to hypothermia before being rescued regardless.”
Mr. Truman’s hands fisted as he set them on his knees and leaned forward in his chair. “This still doesn’t prove that it’s my fault.”
Slowly, Colby shook his head and set Emma’s cell phone next to his on the table. “I’ve informed the doctor that I need the victim to call me the moment she wakes. When she does, I believe she’ll be able to corroborate exactly what I just said. That you told her to change the direction of the cannon, herself. That you set up the place where the cannon was located and the scene would be shot. That you had every opportunity to set up the gate exactly as I described, so that no one would be able to tell the gate was propped, because the gate aligned with the rest of the railing almost perfectly. And I believe that we can have that video footage analyzed so that we can discover that it was you who called, ‘watch out’ just before she hit the railing, because you wanted it to be clear that you were far enough away from the scene of the accident for witnesses.”
The point of the man’s jaw moved in and out of his temple as he sat there, fuming and grinding his teeth. Sean continued to look back and forth between Colby and Mr. Truman in wide-eyed disbelief. Suddenly, Mr. Truman stood quickly enough that his chair flew behind him and hit the wall. Both Molly and Gabby jumped to their feet. Gabby growled.
“That heartless witch. She didn’t deserve to live. My sister-in-law is in the hospital because of her, and my brother just shot himself this morning. He’s dead! And she was unapologetic. Unsympathetic. My wife and I are going to be stuck raising their baby, because Sean, here, is a drunk. I had to take action. I couldn’t just let her get away with all of this.” Foam formed at the corners of Mr. Truman’s mouth. “She deserved everything she got. I hope she dies and never wakes up.”
Sean blinked at him, eyes wide.
Colby cleared his throat, pulling his handcuffs from his belt loop. “Then you got your wish, Mr. Truman. I already got word that the victim passed away soon after arriving at the hospital.”
Chapter Eight
Emma leaned against her SUV listening the seagulls cry above her head. Gabby and Molly both leaned against her legs much like they had when she’d been standing against the door on the cruise ship earlier. The wind blew hard against her side, but the dogs helped her feel warmer. Almost as warm as the look Colby gave her as he approached after helping the Fairfax County deputy put the culprit, Mr. Truman, into the patrol car.
“You’re incredible. You know that?” he asked as he drew near, his smile flashing the dimple in his left cheek while his green eyes sparkled. He rubbed the top of her head, just like he always had, since she was a kid, and then took the leash from her hand.
His words had made her heart soar momentarily... until his gesture of brotherly affection went and ruined the moment. She let out a slow sigh. “I didn’t do very much.”
He shook his head. “You are always noticing everything. It’s like you have a superpower for noticing details that everyone else would overlook. I didn’t even remember that that guy had said something to the reporter like that until you reminded me. And your mind worked together the details of the scene into what could have happened, and from the culprit’s reaction, you were exactly right. We’ve got it all recorded on my phone, too.”
Emma shrugged. “Like being obsessive compulsive about details and constantly anxious enough to think of every scenario is a good thing.”
He huffed and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a chaste hug that only lasted a moment. Not long enough, in Emma’s opinion. Just long enough to feel the warmth she wanted to spend the rest of her life in before it was taken away from her. Just long enough for her to get a whiff of his spicy, cinnamon scent. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said. “You’re perfect just as you are.”
Butterflies tangled themselves in her stomach, and heat rose to her cheeks. She didn’t know what to say, as she was struck completely dumb.
He smiled at her again as he took a step backwards. “I’ll see you next week when I get back from the conference. I wanted to grab dinner with you tonight, but I’ve gotta head to the sheriff’s office here in Fairfax to help process Mr. Truman. Drive safe, and I’ll take you to dinner when Gabby and I get back to Ridgeway.”
Emma nodded, swallowed down the lump in her throat and said, “Is that a promise?”
Colby laughed and continued walking backwards. “Yes, it’s a promise. And text me when you get back, too, so I know you made it home safe.”
She smiled. “I will.”
Giddiness added a bit of spring to Colby’s step as he made his way to his SUV. Emma brought Molly around the back of her truck and opened the hatch to let Molly jump in the back area. Once the Saint Bernard puppy was up at that level, she handed the dog one of the small treats from the bag she’d gotten from the vendor on the ship. Then she leaned forward and gave Molly a big hug, burying her hands in the white and brown fur, feeling the warmth of the puppy’s body against her fingertips. Emma felt melancholy but hopeful. When she pulled away, she rubbed the top of Molly’s head. “Is it silly to look forward to a dinner date, knowing that it’s not a ‘real’ date?”
Molly lurched forward and licked Emma’s cheek. Emma scrunched her nose and wiped the slobber away.
“Thanks. At least I know someone loves me,” she said with a laugh as she stepped back and closed the hatch on her SUV.
A horn bonked lightly at her, and she whipped her head toward the sound. Even though Colby was in a hurry to get to the sheriff’s office, he waved at her from his vehicle. He was obviously wait
ing for her to get in and start her truck, to make sure she got on the road safely. His gentlemanly manners warmed her heart again. Maybe what they had wasn’t yet the kind of love that Emma really wanted, but for now she’d be happy that Colby at least cared about her this much.
The End
Look for more of Emma and Molly’s adventures:
http://amazon.com/author/pcreeden
It's New Year’s Eve and 20-year-old Emma Wright has a date with her crush—well, not a real date, but she can dream! Colby Davidson, the K9 search and rescue deputy, is allowing her to accompany him while he’s on patrol at the Ridgeway Illumination Festival. Though they are just friends, she’s still hoping for a possible kiss at the end of the festivities.
When a stranger asks them to help take some pictures at the event, Emma and Colby are happy to oblige. But their assistance turns them into alibis for the man’s whereabouts while his girlfriend was killed. Most of the clues point to a robbery gone bad, but Emma doesn’t believe all of them point that way. Was it really a robbery or was it murder?
It's Valentine's Day and 20-year-old Emma Wright just wants her crush to take notice of her. But Colby Davidson, the K9 search and rescue deputy only thinks of her as a kid sister. How will she get him to take her seriously?
When her veterinarian boss calls her to pick up a cat at a potential crime scene, she finds herself at the house of the richest woman in Ridgeway. Her father—the sheriff—and Colby are there. They both dismiss the untimely death as a heart attack, but Emma finds clues that it might be something more. Did the software billionaire die of natural causes, or was it murder?
It's St. Patrick's Day and 20-year-old Emma Wright is working hard at training five-month-old Molly, her foster puppy, to become a therapy dog. But her training coach and neighbor gets an emergency call, cutting the lesson short, and Emma volunteers to pick up her daughter at a St. Patrick's Day concert in town.
When Emma arrives, the concert has just finished up, and the teenage girls are visiting with the band. Then the lead singer stumbles and falls to the ground, dead. Emma becomes the only level head in the crowd and calls for help. When the Sheriff and Colby arrive, they investigate it as a potential accident. But Emma finds subtle clues that something more sinister is going on. Did the leader of the band die in an accident, or was it murder?
All hands on deck! It’s a beautiful spring day and 20-year-old Emma Wright is meeting her crush, Colby Davidson, for a two-hour tour specifically for dogs and their owners – The Canine Cruise. She and Molly, the Saint Bernard, are so excited to see both Colby and Gabby, his K9 partner, as the two have been away on training.
It’s smooth sailing until someone shouts “man overboard!” A news reporter who is covering the day cruise for a local station falls into the fast-flowing Potomac River, and she doesn’t know how to swim. Did the reporter fall overboard in an accident, or was it murder?
Coming in May: Emma and Molly attend a wedding... where a murder overcomes the romance of the occasion!
About the Author
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