Her Eyewitness

by Rita Herron

  “So? Her husband was gone all the time, and Randy ain’t worth a dime.”

  “You knew about her relationship with Green?”

  Raeburn nodded, obviously deciding not to reveal everything he knew.

  “You have to suspect her or her husband. Maybe he found out—”

  “They both have alibis,” Raeburn stated. “They were at my house the night Green was killed. My wife and I hosted an anniversary dinner, and all the family was there.”

  Collin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. What if Raeburn was protecting his niece or her husband? It would explain his hurry to arrest Sydney. Raeburn could easily have planted the evidence, found out about Collin and been worried he’d break the case. Or maybe I’m just grasping.

  “How about McKenzie?” he asked, remembering the beady-eyed man. He’d certainly seemed unstable.

  “He has an alibi,” Raeburn said. “His wife says he was home with her all night.”

  “She could be protecting him.”

  “Look, Cash, face it. Green’s wife is a murderer. She had divorce papers drawn up a month before her husband died.”

  Collin pretended interest in one of the Wanted posters on the wall as he tried to gauge his reaction.

  “She had motive, opportunity, and now that we’ve recovered the murder weapon, it’s an open-and-shut case.”

  “You’re sure the gun’s the same one that killed Green?”

  “Yeah. It was found on shore right close to where Mizz Green’s car went into the ocean. It matches the bullets that killed Green.” Raeburn hitched his pants higher. “And if you’d stop letting your hormones affect your brain, you’d see she tried to kill you, too. Twice.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “The fire? The bomb at her house? I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I do.” Collin had to trust his instincts. Even if his partner had screwed up and died because of a woman. Sydney was no murderer.

  But he had seen the revolver in her car. Someone had obviously planted the pistol there, then tampered with her brakes and caused the accident, hoping the gun would be found and Sydney would be indicted.

  He peered through the glass door and saw her making a phone call. To her lawyer, he hoped. Unfortunately she needed one since Raeburn had already tried and convicted her.

  “I want to talk to her,” Collin said.

  “I guess that’d be okay,” Raeburn complied, “as long as you share any information you get.”

  “I will,” Collin said. “But before you close the investigation, think about this. My guess is someone’s framing her. I suggest you check out that mistress and Green’s first wife or look at McKenzie again, also Green’s business dealings and Steve Wallace, the CEO of Norvek.” I’m calling Sam. We’re going to find the real killer, then I’m going to shove it in your face, Raeburn. And pray that Sydney will forgive me.

  SYDNEY BLANCHED when Collin entered the small room. Another interrogation tactic, she thought morosely. Maybe they thought she would crack with Collin, be so smitten with his sex appeal she’d spill her guts—as she had been, she thought, her chest aching again at her own stupidity.

  The heavy door closed as Collin walked in. She folded her hands in front of her on the wobbly table, bracing herself for another inquisition. He moved slowly, his posture rigid with tension, and she focused on a scarred indentation it the wood, despising herself for even noticing his discomfort.

  “I know you hate me right now, Sydney,” he said in a solemn voice. “I guess I can’t blame you. But you’re wrong about me.” The chair creaked as he sat down opposite her. When she didn’t respond or look at him, he continued, “I didn’t sleep with you for information—”

  “Don’t talk about last night,” she said, glaring at him with all the fear and anger she’d been bottling up inside. “I want to forget it ever happened.”

  “I can’t forget it,” Collin said roughly. “And whether you want to admit it or not, our making love changed things.”

  Sydney winced. “It was sex.”

  Collin scrubbed his hand over his chin. “It wasn’t just sex, Sydney, and we both know it.” He folded his hands on his knees. “And nothing about last night was simple, especially our lovemaking.”

  “Sleeping with you only proved what a fool I was,” Sydney said in a shaky voice.

  “You’re not a fool. And our being together wasn’t a mistake. It was—”

  “Don’t say it,” Sydney said in a strained voice, as if the memories sickened her.

  “Look, Sydney, admit it or not, when I made love to you, when you clung to me with passion, when I came inside you, it was the best night of my life—”

  “Stop it!” she shouted, her voice breaking.

  He reached for her hand, but she shrank away, and he sighed. Then he said in a gravelly voice, “I love you. I should have told you sooner—”

  “Don’t tell me any more lies.” Her breath whistled out as she strove for control. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

  He ran a hand through his hair again, and she forced herself not to watch his hands, not to think about them touching her and the way she’d reacted last night. “I believe you’re being framed, Sydney, and I want to help you.”

  “I think you’ve already done enough.”

  “Do you have a lawyer?”

  “I called Grady Jackson—he’s the only attorney in Beaufort—but he won’t be back in town until tomorrow.”

  Collin drummed his fingers on the table. “Will you let me call someone in Charleston for you? There are a couple of good criminal attorneys.”

  “You think I’m going to need one?” she asked, the seriousness of the situation really hitting her.

  “Yes.” He shifted, the chair groaning under his weight. “I intend to find the real murderer, but it may take some time. Meanwhile, you need to secure someone.”

  “I’ll wait for Grady,” Sydney said, deciding she didn’t trust Collin enough to accept his help now.

  He seemed to read her mind. Disappointment clouded his features. “If I’m going to find out who’s setting you up, you have to tell me everything you know about the murder.”

  “I gave a statement, Mr. Cash. I’m sure Sergeant Raeburn will let you read it,” she said bitterly. “And I’m not saying another word until my lawyer arrives.”

  He fisted his hands on the table in front of her. “I will read the statement, Sydney, but I want you to talk to me about Doug. Why didn’t you tell me you’d filed divorce papers?”

  She clasped her hands together. “It didn’t seem important. I told you I thought he might be having an affair.” She looked away, recalling the long, lonely nights she’d spent wondering where Doug was. And what she had done to drive him away. She didn’t feel that guilt anymore. Although Roxy’s comment that Doug had really loved her confused her.

  But her relationship with Doug seemed light-years away. Collin had helped her forget him, only to break her heart again.

  “Sydney?”

  “I didn’t tell Doug about the papers,” she answered tightly. “I decided to give our marriage another try.”

  He cleared his throat. “Okay. About Doug. We’ve already uncovered an ex-wife and a mistress. Either one of them could have committed the crime. McKenzie also had a motive. We know Doug had an alias and a one-way ticket to Brazil for the day he died. Obviously Doug knew he was in trouble, knew someone was on to him, so he was planning an escape. It could have been Roxy DeLong or someone from work.”

  “I guess he had a lot of enemies,” Sydney admitted.

  “Tell me about this deal he was putting together. I know the product debut was postponed, and McKenzie mentioned Doug might have forged the licensing agreement. Were there any other co-workers who might have wanted to kill him? Someone who stood to gain a lot of money over the deal?”

  “Steve Wallace,” Sydney said, remembering how upset Steve had sounded on the phone. “He’s the CEO of the company. He called and wanted to know if I had
any of Doug’s files. He said there was some question about the patent and the licensing agreement, that he suspected Doug might have told another company about the product, then sold the formula to the highest bidder.”

  “So Doug conned Norvek Pharmaceuticals,” Collin said, contemplating the theory.

  “Steve had invested his life savings,” Sydney replied. “I’m pretty sure he would earn millions in stock when the public offering was held.”

  “Money is a motive,” Collin agreed. “I’ll pay Mr. Wallace a visit.”

  Sydney studied him, watching his mind at work, wondering if he really would solve the case. If so, she had to tell him everything she knew. She couldn’t forgive him, but she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in jail for a crime she hadn’t committed.

  “I found some files, too,” she admitted, not surprised when Collin’s gaze swung up to meet hers. “Doug had a bank account in Charleston and several Swiss accounts. They were loaded.”

  Collin’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward. “He must have been planning to leave town after he received his cut of the money.” He reached out to touch her, but Sydney drew back, folding her hands in her lap. Collin’s disappointed look twisted her stomach into knots, but she couldn’t allow herself to feel sorry for him. He had hurt her.

  “Would you mind if I looked at those files?”

  “Not if you think it would help.”

  “Anything could be a help,” he said. “Where are they?”

  “They’re on disk in a shoe box in the bedroom closet That is, unless the police confiscated them when they searched the house.” Sydney shuddered at the idea of Collin in her house, going back into her bedroom where she’d foolishly given him her body, where she’d finally thought she’d found love again.

  “I promise I’m going to solve this case, Sydney,” he said in a husky voice, as if he, too, remembered their passionate night and felt the same as she did. “I’ll do everything I can to get you out of here this afternoon. Please try to trust me.”

  She stood, her heart aching, blinking back the unwanted tears stinging her eyes. Last night he’d begged her to trust him, to trust herself, and she had. Only to discover this morning he’d deceived her.

  “Just find out who killed Doug,” she managed to say in an even voice. “Then your debt will be paid and you can go home.” With that, she walked to the door and met the guard, refusing to look back at Collin as the uniformed officer led her down a long hallway to the cell where she would probably spend the night. And maybe the rest of her life.

  COLLIN TOOK A TAXI to Sydney’s, recalling the frustrating afternoon while the sights and sounds of the town buzzed by his window. He’d tried to set up a meeting with Steve Wallace, only to be told the man couldn’t see him until the next day. Then he called Sam, gave him all the information he had to date, and Sam promised to call him back as soon as he could. After that, he spent two hours trying to make bail for Sydney, but the judge presiding in Beaufort was unavailable, like Sydney’s lawyer and Wallace. The three of them must have been on a fishing trip somewhere together, Collin thought in frustration.

  Leaving Sydney at the jail was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. But staying wouldn’t find Doug’s killer, which was the only way to help Sydney. He let himself into her house and scanned the rooms, angry at the sight of Sydney’s belongings scattered from the police search. Sydney’s scent lingered in every corner. Then he walked into the bedroom and saw the unmade bed, the tangled sheets, and remembrances of their lovemaking overwhelmed him. Forcing himself to continue his mission, he straightened the covers, then opened the closet door and pulled out the box. Obviously the police had been looking for weapons, not Doug’s business files.

  He quickly searched the contents. Two computer disks lay inside, along with the fake ID Sydney had shown him. Slipping on a pair of gloves to avoid fingerprints, he put the disk in the computer and opened the files. Just as she’d said, Doug had several international accounts. He jotted down the account numbers, then scanned the other files. Notes on business dealings with two earlier companies filled two folders. Doug had been dishonest and cunning in the measures he’d taken to make his bogus agreements appear legit. Somewhere along the way he’d probably paid off someone in the FDA. Money talked.

  After two hours of poring over the data, he finally shut off the computer, then stuffed the disks in his pocket to keep for evidence. Apparently Doug had forged signatures on licensing agreements and required FDA approval forms, then marketed them to pharmaceutical companies as done deals. He’d sold the products while still in the research stage. When the research companies cut deals with the larger pharmaceutical companies, they received advances, as well as stock options. Doug received both, then skipped town and changed names before the forgeries were discovered. One of the companies had managed to obtain the proper FDA approval and keep their product going, so he’d made a bundle off the stock, but the second company had gone belly-up. As would Norvek Pharmaceuticals if he’d pulled the same scam.

  Exhausted, a headache wearing him down, he dropped his head and rubbed his neck, the muscles tight and knotted. He’d figured out a little bit about Doug’s business dealings, but who had killed him? The problem wasn’t that he had no other suspects besides Sydney—the problem was he had too many. Why had Raeburn been in such a rush to arrest Sydney when there were other suspects? Did the sergeant have his own agenda? Maybe he was an investor himself. Curious, Collin accessed Norvek’s files and found a list of investors. Sure enough, Raeburn was on the list.

  Hmm, no wonder Raeburn couldn’t wait to close the case. When the pharmaceutical deal went through, he’d instantly double his investment at the offering. So would several businessmen in Beaufort who’d invested, including the two men he’d met at the festival that day.

  Knowing he couldn’t do anything else until the next day, Collin stretched out on Sydney’s sofa, unable to lie down in the bed where they’d made love, the bed that still held the scent of their passion. But his mind filled with images of Sydney, and the thought of her locked up in a jail cell burned his gut.

  Even if Sydney never forgave him, he would see that she was free. Free to resume her life without him. He rubbed his hand over his face in despair and turned off the den light, welcoming the darkness.

  He’d hated the black emptiness once, but tonight he didn’t mind it. The darkness served as a cool retreat from the pain and blinding light of reality he’d awakened to this morning. He’d vowed not to need anyone ever again, but he’d come here and fallen in love. And he had no idea how he’d go on without Sydney.

  SYDNEY STARED at the concrete wall, her body curled into a ball on the narrow cot in the cell where she’d lain awake all night. When morning had come, she’d prayed she’d be released, but now morning had stretched into afternoon, and with it, her hopes had died. Her muscles and body ached from the chill of betrayal and fatigue, but the rest of her felt numb and lifeless. Would this be her home for the next few months? Or years?

  She tried to push aside her negative thoughts and avoided the dark gaze of her cellmate, a scary mooselike woman with a tattoo of a snake on her arm and a nose ring that shimmered in the dim light of the jail cell.

  Collin’s promise to get her out faded with every passing hour. Trust me, Sydney, he’d said—but he wouldn’t come through for her. His promise was just another lie. She wished she’d had time to shower before she’d been locked inside. The scent of Collin’s lovemaking had lingered on her skin for hours, then they’d made her shower with the other women, and the harsh scent of the jail soap had replaced it, permeating her skin. The smell and humiliating memory of the leering women made her feel ill.

  Heavy footsteps on the concrete floor shuffled toward her, but she lay still, praying it wasn’t Raeburn with more accusations. Noises from the other cells and a grunt from her own cellmate forced her to glance at the door.

  “Mrs. Green, you need to come with me.”

  Keys
jangled and clinked and the metal bars screeched opened. She stood, seeing the sour face of a woman guard with a short, round body and hands the size of a man’s. “Come on,” the woman barked.

  “Where are you taking me?” Sydney asked, hating the fear in her small voice.

  “Take me with you, girlie,” her cellmate yelled.

  The guard glared at the woman, then took Sydney’s arm. “Someone posted your bail.”

  Sydney followed the woman on wooden legs, her skin crawling at the stares and catcalls of prisoners in the other cells. The guard escorted her through two sets of double doors and into a holding area, then ordered her to sit.

  Collin appeared in front of her, looking freshly showered, dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a navy polo shirt. Her heart broke all over again. Self-consciously she tugged at her rumpled clothes and hair, her predicament making her flush with humiliation.

  “Your bail’s been posted,” he said, his eyes raking over her. “Are you okay?”

  “You mean you posted it?” she asked in dismay.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. But he spoke softly as he guided her down the hall, “Yeah, I’ve been worried to death about you. Are you all right?”

  She blinked as unwanted tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m fine.”

  He smiled and gently reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on, Sydney. I’m taking you home.”

  She pulled away. “I don’t want to owe you anything.”

  He paused as if she’d struck him, then proceeded out the door. “Don’t worry. The money was some I’d put aside for a house.”

  She trailed behind him, determined to set him straight. They climbed in her rental car and he drove toward her house, the silence between them strained and awkward.

  “I’ll pay you back,” she said tightly. “Doug had plenty of money and I’m getting an insurance check for my car.”

  “Your accounts will probably be frozen until after the case is solved,” he said in an almost apologetic voice.

  Her chest heaved with surprise. They could do that? Freeze her accounts?