CROSS HER HEART

by Leigh, Melinda

  “Do you have more questions?” Mrs. Peterson crossed the room and lifted a pamphlet from a sideboard. She offered it to Matt. “Our services and Bible study programs are listed here. The ladies get together on Tuesday afternoons for a potluck lunch. The men meet on Wednesday evenings.”

  “Thank you.” Matt accepted the brochure. “We would love to meet Reverend Vance.”

  “You could come to a service tomorrow,” Mrs. Peterson said.

  “That would be perfect, but unfortunately, we have a family commitment.” Matt tried to sound disappointed.

  “Let me check his schedule.” Mrs. Petersen returned to her desk and opened a planner. “The reverend is busy with a fund-raiser for our youth group today. He’s helping the kids raise money for their mission trip to rebuild a flooded community in South Carolina. Tomorrow is Sunday. He’ll be here all day, of course.”

  “It doesn’t sound like the reverend has much time off,” Bree said. “Doesn’t he ever get to go home?”

  “Well, he lives in the apartment over the church garage, so technically, he’s always here.” Mrs. Peterson laughed. “Monday is blocked out, and he has Tuesdays off. How about Wednesday? He does hospital visits in the morning, but he keeps office hours from noon to five. You are welcome to stop by then. No appointment needed.”

  “That’s perfect.” Matt reached across the desk and shook her hand. “Thank you so much for all your help today. The church is lovely.”

  “I hope we see you again soon.” Mrs. Peterson turned to her computer.

  Bree was out the door first. Matt followed her hurried steps out into the parking lot. She strode into the wind, her strides purposeful, her shoulders back. They stopped next to his SUV.

  “We didn’t get struck by lightning,” he said. “I call that a win.”

  “If Craig hasn’t been struck, we’re clear.” Bree propped her hands on her hips, showing the butt of her weapon. “I can’t figure out what he’s up to.”

  “You wore a gun in church?”

  “Yep. Both of them,” she said. “They’re the perfect accessory. Go with everything.”

  Matt shook his head. “Mrs. Peterson seems happy with Craig.”

  “Yes. He can be very charming.” Bree frowned, her brows knitting. “If that was any other person, I’d be tempted to believe he’d changed.”

  “But not Craig?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure you’re not biased? People can change.” Though in Matt’s experience, it didn’t happen often.

  “I’m positive. He says all the right words, but he slips when he loses his temper, and I see the real Craig.” Bree glanced over her shoulder at the church. “This is an act, and it’s easy for Craig to play his part here. No one here challenges him or makes him angry.” She went to the passenger door. “Something that Mrs. Peterson said is bugging me, but I don’t know what.” She stepped into the vehicle.

  “Didn’t he tell you he lived in a three-bedroom house?”

  “Yes, and clearly he lied about that. But that’s not it.” Bree’s forehead creased.

  Matt checked his phone. “Todd left a message.” He listed to the recording. “They searched Trey White’s apartment. He wants us to come down to the station to talk about what they found.”

  Bree snorted. “Now to pretend we don’t already know.”

  “Yep.” Matt swung the SUV around and headed back to I-87. He drove to the restaurant. They picked up Bree’s car, and he followed her to the sheriff’s station.

  They walked inside, and Marge led them back to the conference room. “Todd will be with you in a minute.”

  Todd came in and closed the door behind him. He set a laptop and a folder on the table. “So, we searched Trey’s apartment this morning and found something very disturbing.” He opened the folder and removed two photos. “These are just two examples. There were more.”

  Bree pulled the photos in front of her and studied them. “He took these without Erin knowing.”

  “Yes.” Todd tapped the second photo. “This one is Erin in front of Justin’s house. Trey knew about her relationship with Justin and where Justin lived. Since there’s snow on the ground, we think this picture was taken during the week before she died.”

  Bree slid the photos to Matt.

  “Trey was stalking Erin?” Matt asked.

  “Yes.” Todd opened the laptop. “I went to the jail this morning and questioned him about it. I have a copy of the interview. I thought you might want to see it.” He turned the computer to face Bree and Matt and then pressed “Play.”

  A video on the screen began to roll. Trey and his lawyer sat on one side of the table. Trey was handcuffed to a ring set into the metal table. Across from them, Todd recited the names of the three people in the room for the record. Then he read Trey his Miranda rights, and Trey signed a form acknowledging he understood those rights.

  With the opening legalities out of the way, Todd pulled a photo album from an accordion file on the table. Matt recognized the album he and Bree had seen the previous night at Trey’s apartment.

  Todd spun it around and opened it, so that Trey could see the pictures. “We found these in your apartment, Trey.”

  Tears brimmed from Trey’s eyes and ran down his face. “She was so fucking beautiful.”

  “Did you take these photos?” Todd asked.

  Trey leaned forward and wiped his face on the sleeve of his orange shirt. He was quiet for a minute, staring at the first picture. “Yeah.”

  “Why?” Todd turned the page.

  Trey’s eyes were riveted on the next picture. “I loved her.”

  “So, you followed her around town?”

  “Yeah.” Trey sighed, a long sound full of desolation. “A woman like her would never go out with a dude like me, but I wanted to be close to her.”

  Todd turned to the next page. Trey leaned forward.

  Matt was impressed. So far, Todd was engaging the suspect.

  Todd rested his forearms on the table. “What else did you do besides follow her and take her picture without her knowledge or consent?”

  Trey flinched and shifted back. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you violated her privacy, and you have a record of being a Peeping Tom. What else did you do to Erin?”

  “Nothing!” Trey’s face paled.

  Easy. You’re losing him, Matt thought. An interviewer had to know when to pressure a suspect and when to ease off.

  Todd turned to the photo of Erin in front of Justin’s house. “Do you know who lives here?”

  Trey’s shoulders slumped. “Her boyfriend.”

  “Did you know him?” Todd asked.

  Trey shook his head.

  Todd leaned over his hands, getting into Trey’s space. “Did you ever see them together?”

  Trey looked away from the picture. “Maybe.”

  “When and where?” Todd asked.

  Trey’s shoulders hitched. “They had a fight in front of the salon where she worked.”

  “Did you hear their fight?”

  “No. I was across the parking lot, in the store.” Trey’s fingers closed into fists. “But he was yelling at her, and she was upset.” He looked up, his eyes bright. “He had no right to treat her like that.”

  “You didn’t know that he was her husband?”

  Trey’s eyes darted to Todd’s. That had surprised him. “No.”

  “Yes. They were separated but trying to work it out.”

  “He didn’t deserve her.” Trey frowned at the photo, the muscles in his face tight.

  “When did you take this picture?” Todd pointed to it.

  “Last Friday night. I was worried about her. I thought he might come back when she got off work, so I followed her.” Trey’s eyes snapped up. “Just to make sure she got home safe.”

  “But she didn’t go home.”

  Trey’s gaze stayed on the image of Erin in front of Justin’s house. “No. She went to his place.” His voice deepened, and Ma
tt heard a hint of a new emotion, something deeper than anger. Jealousy? Betrayal? Maybe both.

  “Why do you think she did that?” Todd prompted.

  “She had sex with him.” Trey’s voice went cold.

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw them through the window.” Trey sounded robotic now. His attention wasn’t on Todd, but within himself. Was he seeing Erin and Justin all over again in his mind?

  Matt’s gaze shifted to the lawyer, who did nothing to stop his client from confessing to a crime.

  “Which window?” Todd asked.

  “It’s around the side of the house,” Trey said in that same detached tone.

  “What exactly did you see?”

  Trey flushed, embarrassment bringing him back to the present. “Them. Having sex. In his bed.” He turned away from the photo album as if he couldn’t bear to look at it any longer.

  “What did you do then?”

  “I went home.” Trey shifted back.

  “What did you do at home?”

  Trey’s gaze dropped to his hands, still clenched in fists on the table. Beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip. “Nothing.”

  He was lying. Matt would bet a hundred bucks Trey went home to masturbate, if he didn’t do it while he was sitting in front of the house. Voyeurs got off on peeping. It was their thing. Matt would have pounced on that.

  But Todd didn’t press. “When did you see Erin again?”

  “Tuesday.” Trey’s eyes lifted again.

  Back to the truth, Matt thought.

  “I saw her leaving the salon. I waved. She waved back.” Anguish twisted his features. “I’ll never see her again.”

  Todd flattened his hands on the table. “Did you kill her?”

  “No!” Trey jerked straight.

  “You didn’t follow her? You weren’t angry that she was having sex with someone not worthy of her?”

  “No! Yes! Wait.” Trey’s breathing sped up.

  The lawyer finally intervened. “One question at a time, please.”

  Trey took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I didn’t follow her. I worked until closing. She left the salon around four, I think. That’s when her shift usually ended.” He exhaled hard through his nose, his nostrils flaring. “But yeah, I was angry that she would waste her time with a man like him. She deserved so much more.”

  “She deserved you, right?” Todd asked.

  Trey shook his head, the motion slow and purposeful and full of denial. “No.”

  Todd pressed his point. “Are you sure you didn’t leave work for a while Tuesday evening? It wouldn’t have taken long. The store was empty. The surveillance cameras didn’t work. No one would know. You could have driven to her husband’s house and shot her.”

  “No,” Trey insisted. “I would never have hurt Erin.”

  “But you would have shot her husband.”

  “I didn’t say that!” Trey’s face was bright red.

  The lawyer put a hand on Trey’s arm. “Do you have a question, Chief Deputy? Or are you just going to keep theorizing?”

  Todd shifted his weight back. “Was it an accident, Trey? Did you go there to shoot Erin’s husband? Did she surprise you or get in the way?”

  “No!” Trey yelled. “Stop! I didn’t shoot anybody. I don’t even have a gun.” He bent forward and rested his forehead on the table.

  Todd tapped a finger on his file. He clearly didn’t know what to do with the interview now. But then, Trey was done. He’d shut down. The interview ended.

  Todd closed the computer. “He wouldn’t answer any more questions, but as you can see, he’s a definite suspect. He was stalking Erin. He was angry that she was sleeping with Justin. Maybe he went into the house to shoot Justin and Erin got in the way.”

  “It’s possible,” Bree said, but her voice was hesitant.

  Todd frowned. “Matt, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt said. “There were a few times he was definitely lying, but he never wavered on where he was and what he was doing Tuesday night.”

  “Where do you stand on forensics reports and DNA tests from Justin’s house?” Bree asked.

  “DNA won’t be in for weeks,” Todd said. “But I should have more from forensics soon.”

  She frowned. “Some physical evidence proving Trey was inside Justin’s house might help you break him if he’s guilty.”

  Todd nodded. “But he did confess to peeping through their window.”

  “That’s not enough,” Bree said.

  “No,” Todd agreed. “I have other news. The blood on the dashboard of Erin’s truck was her type, O positive. The blood in the back seat matches Justin’s type, A positive. These tests aren’t conclusive like DNA. We can’t say for certain that the blood is theirs, but we know it came from two different people.”

  “And this information suggests that Justin is hurt.” Matt’s gut soured at the thought of his friend injured and bleeding.

  “Yes,” Todd continued. “Also, I talked to Jack Halo. He denied harassing any of his staff and was offended at the suggestions. But he provided an alibi for Tuesday evening. He was in his office. The receptionist confirmed that he didn’t leave until the salon closed at nine.”

  Bree frowned. “Did anyone see him between seven thirty and eight thirty?”

  Todd shook his head. “He said he was alone working on renovation designs.”

  Matt thought about the layout of the salon. “Does the salon have cameras covering the back of the building?”

  “Yes, the cameras face the exits on the outside,” Todd said. “But they’re only activated when the alarm system is set for the night. They’re not turned on during salon operating hours.”

  “The salon has a staircase on either side of the building, at the back. Jack could have left through one of those doors and returned without the receptionist seeing him.”

  “Wouldn’t that be risky?” Todd asked. “The salon was full of people every time I’ve been there.”

  “Maybe risky, but possible,” Matt said. “When we talked to Jack, I took the side stairs without running into a single person, and the salon was busy.”

  “Have either of you found anything?” Todd asked, his eyes shifting back and forth between Bree and Matt.

  “We’ve been digging into Craig Vance’s background, but we haven’t found anything incriminating,” Matt said vaguely. “We’ll let you know if something pans out.”

  He had nothing else to add. He and Bree had met with a drug dealer, illegally searched Trey’s apartment, and planted an illegal GPS device on Craig’s car. All things Todd didn’t need to know about unless those activities yielded a significant break in the case.

  “I’ve been reviewing my sister’s papers and planning her funeral,” Bree said.

  Todd said, “I’ll let you know if anything interesting comes in from forensics.”

  “Thank you.” Bree stood. “I appreciate you keeping us updated on the investigation.”

  Matt and Bree left the station.

  Outside, Bree turned her face to the sun. “Trey could be a very good liar, delusional, innocent, or any combination. He definitely has some sort of mental illness.”

  “Yep.” Matt stopped next to his vehicle. “I’m glad we searched his place. Todd didn’t mention all the pornography or the camera.”

  “Or the summertime photos of my sister,” Bree added. “Does he realize the importance of those items?”

  “He must, but it’s not like we can ask.”

  “No.”

  “Where do you want to go now?” he asked.

  “Back to the house. I want to review my notes. I’m missing something.” She rested a hand on the top of her car door.

  “Would you copy me on your notes?” The one thing Matt had not missed about leaving the force was no longer needing to write up reports. He was sure Bree’s would be thorough.

  “Yes. They’re all on my laptop. I’ll send you a copy today,” Bree said.
“I need to spend the rest of the day with the kids. We need to pick out pictures of Erin for the memorial service.”

  “Yeah. You should do that as a family,” Matt said. “I have brunch with my parents tomorrow morning. It’s a regular Sunday thing. You, Dana, and the kids are welcome to join us. My mom and dad love to entertain. There’s always tons of food.”

  Bree shook her head. “I need to write Erin’s eulogy too, and plan the rest of the service. Unless something comes up, I’ll probably need tomorrow for the family as well.”

  Matt understood, but he would be looking for Justin. Justin had driven Erin’s truck after she’d died. He’d literally had her blood on his hands. But he’d also bled all over the rear seat. He was injured and had lost a significant amount of blood.

  Matt had to find him—and fast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Late that afternoon, Bree leaned back on the sofa and stared at the photo collage. “Is that enough pictures?”

  Nodding, Kayla looked away from the poster board and wiped a hand under her nose.

  “It’s good,” Luke said in a heavy voice. “I’m going to my room.”

  Luke’s eyes were red-rimmed, and both kids looked as exhausted as Bree felt. Luke disappeared up the stairs.

  “Can I go help Dana with the bread now?” Kayla sat cross-legged on the floor at Bree’s feet.

  “I’m sure she’d love that.” Bree’s brain hurt, and her eyes were sore. They’d spent the last three hours going through pictures of Erin and the kids.

  And crying.

  There’d been plenty of tears all around. Sadness weighted Bree’s chest like a lead pullover. She needed to write a eulogy but couldn’t get past three words without choking up. She tried to get Adam to come over and help, but he refused. He said he trusted them, and he was working on a project—something special he wanted to finish before the funeral. Bree had given up. If she managed to drag him out of his studio, he’d be too distracted to participate anyway.

  Kayla stood and looked back at the collage, her eyes full of tears and sorrow. “Can we keep it after?”

  “If that’s what you want.” Bree got up to stand next to her. She wrapped an arm around the little girl. “We’ll bring it back here.”

  “Good.” She sniffed. “I don’t want to forget what Mommy looks like.”