by VK Powell
He doesn’t believe her either. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this murder.” Emma’s shrill words hung in the air and sounded as desperate as she felt.
“I advise you to stop right there, Ferguson,” Donovan said. “Don’t say anything else. You’re a material witness in this case.”
“What are you talking about? Get away from me.” She pushed Donovan and edged closer to Ann.
“Don’t come near my aunt again,” Carter said and nudged Ann toward the door.
Emma intercepted them and spoke directly to Ann. “You have to believe me. I had nothing to do with this. I was trying to—” The look in Carter’s eyes stopped Emma mid-sentence.
When Carter spoke, her voice was the cold, detached whisper of a stranger. “Did you or did you not tell Billie about Ann and Cass’s relationship?”
“It doesn’t matter, Carter,” Ann said. “Everybody in town knew already.”
“It does matter. It’s a question of trust, not who knew what. Trust. Pure and simple.”
Carter’s brown-eyed stare was a deep, dark grave, and her callous tone pierced Emma’s heart. Ann’s brow furrowed, and a pained expression crossed her face as she waited for the answer. Emma sensed no anger beneath Ann’s pain, but Carter’s face bore the primal rage of something wild protecting her family. Emma’s response could seal the betrayal Carter suspected.
“I certainly did not. I might’ve verified information she already had, but—”
“And did you lead Billie to Daniel Tanner?” Carter hissed through clenched teeth.
Emma shot Donovan her steeliest stare. “Absolutely not.”
Donovan pulled Emma away from Carter and Ann. “I told you to shut up. If you’re not a witness, you could be charged for obstruction in this investigation.”
“I don’t care. Let me go.” When she turned back toward Ann and Carter, they were both pale. “Carter, please listen to me.” She inched closer so Donovan couldn’t overhear. “Why are you so ready to believe the worst about me? How can you trust this woman? What does she mean to you anyway?”
“I don’t trust either of you. Back off and stay away from me and my family.”
“Maybe we should at least listen to her, Carter.” Ann said. “After all, we’ve only heard this carcass-climbing bureaucrat’s side of things. And Emma said she didn’t tell.”
Donovan hooked her arm in Carter’s and tried to usher her and Ann toward the door. “That wouldn’t be a very good idea, Ms. West. I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now either, Billie,” Carter said. “You didn’t say anything about questioning my aunt last night. I would’ve appreciated a little heads-up. Leave us alone.”
Donovan focused her megawatt smile on Carter and said, “You realize I was just doing my job.”
“I realize you’re harassing an innocent woman.”
“Carter, please. Can we talk about this privately later?”
“Why? Seems you’ve already made up your mind.”
“Not at all. I’ll be interviewing others as well. But you might want to consult a lawyer, just to be on the safe side. I’ll come see you as soon as I can, and we’ll work out the details.” Donovan’s hand rested in the small of Carter’s back as she escorted her and Ann from the sheriff’s office to their vehicle parked across the street.
At least Carter was annoyed with Donovan too. Emma’s mood shifted through confusion and disbelief to red-hot anger. Donovan was becoming cozier with Carter and exerting more influence over her. And she’d succeeded in casting the blame for this misdirection of justice on Emma. Agent Donovan seemed to have an ulterior motive, but what?
Emma turned back to Sheriff Echols, who stared at her like he wanted to throw her out of his office. “So, no charges were filed?”
“Why do you care? You’ve got an ending to your story. Isn’t that enough?”
“Please, Sheriff. This is wrong, and you know it.”
“No charges yet. Ann was just subjected to hours of questioning, thanks to you.”
“I get it, but Ann is not the murderer. The suspect is still out there, and I’m convinced he’s been trying to scare me off his trail.”
“You mean your prowler, slashed tires, assault by tree limb, and hit-and-run reports?”
“Exactly. Ann West could’ve prowled around my cabin and slashed my tires, but we both know she didn’t. And she couldn’t heft a huge tree limb above her head, much less swing it with enough force to nearly break my arm. She didn’t run me off the road, because she can’t even drive.” She waited for Echols to process the information.
After a few minutes of stroking his chin, he nodded. “Makes sense, but we’ll need more than hunches and circumstantial evidence. Donovan seems to have a hard-on for Ann. At least she’s the only one brought in for questioning so far.”
“I’m going to find out what’s going on. Promise you won’t let Super Agent do anything else stupid until you hear from me.”
“This investigation is out of my hands. You saw to that, but I certainly don’t want Ann dragged through the mud for no reason. Whatever you’re going to do, make it snappy.”
“I only need twenty-four hours, Sheriff.”
Echols stood and offered his hand. “Just bring me something substantial.”
Whoever coined the phrase dumb blonde hadn’t dealt with Billie Donovan, but Emma refused to be a scapegoat in her twisted plan to frame Ann. As Emma exited the sheriff’s office, Donovan was approaching her car in front of the building. Emma grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. They stood so close that Donovan’s sickly sweet perfume coated her throat. For the first time, Emma felt a flash of desire to do violence. She clenched her fists, digging fingernails into her palms.
“Well, are you going to hit me? I know you want to. Nothing would give me more pleasure than putting you in a jail cell beside Ann West.” Donovan’s voice was controlled perfection aimed directly at Emma’s heart.
“I’m not that easily provoked, Donovan. I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. Doesn’t this charade seem the least bit unethical to you?”
Donovan brushed her long hair off her shoulders and smiled. “I’m just following leads, doing my job. Admit it. You’ve had the same suspicious thoughts about Ann. So don’t get high and mighty, Ms. Ferguson.”
“What do you want? Is it the glory of clearing a cold case, a petty government raise, or another promotion?”
Donovan slid a finger down the side of her face, a smug grin parting her full lips. “Oh no, Ferguson. It’s much more important. I want something you can never have now—Carter.”
Emma’s anger rose quickly. She bit the inside of her gum and tasted the coppery tang of blood. Clenching her fists tighter until she felt pain, Emma focused on Donovan’s words, determined to memorize each one.
“You look like you’re about to explode. Surely you’re not surprised. I told you my intentions regarding Carter the day we met for coffee right over there.” She pointed to the Stuart Diner. “You were foolish to underestimate me.”
“You’ll never have Carter. She’s too smart to fall for a scam like this.” But Emma’s words sounded weak, betraying her lack of conviction.
“She already has, thanks to your little display with Sheri last night. I think the kiss really sealed the deal in my favor. Carter will never trust you again.”
Emma’s muscles were a coiled spring ready to strike, but her heart ached from the truth of Donovan’s cruel words. She’d never known real failure until this moment. Her past missteps had been teachable moments, preparing her for this challenge—and she’d lost the battle.
“My intent was always to clear Ann, not to frame her. You used my information against both of us.” Emma hardly recognized her own voice, so low and defeated.
“I just left some bits out. Carter’s distrust of you filled in the blanks. I actually defended Ann. I was very convincing.”
“You’re obsessed. How far are you willing to t
ake this? Will you send an innocent woman to jail? If you do, Carter will never forgive you.”
“Trust me. I know how much that old crow means to her. She’s the reason Carter hasn’t committed to our relationship. If she goes to prison, Carter will finally be free, but it won’t come to that. I’ll eventually find the real killer or clear Ann on lack of evidence. Either way, Carter and I will be bound. I’ll console and counsel her if Ann is charged. If she’s exonerated, Carter will be so grateful…you get the idea. Bottom line, I win.”
A scene from The Wizard of Oz flashed through Emma’s mind as she watched Donovan morph from an attractive, blue-eyed blonde into a grotesque, self-serving ogre, complete with warts. “You’re a disgrace to the law-enforcement profession.”
“And you’re a hack reporter who can’t find her ass with both hands.”
“So you hauled Ann in as a setup?”
Donovan nodded.
“You had to make it appear Ann was in real jeopardy. When the time’s right, you’ll ride in and play the hero. Carter will be so impressed and, as you predicted, grateful.”
Donovan didn’t respond but flashed a wide smile as she drove away.
Emma considered calling Rick Harding and reporting Donovan’s questionable practices, but what could she really prove? Donovan hadn’t violated the law; she’d been doing her job questioning a potential suspect. If Emma called Rick, she’d sound petty and overreactive because of her concern for Ann. She’d handle the situation and report Donovan’s bad behavior to Rick later.
*
“Carter, I don—”
Carter raised her hand to stop Ann’s pending tirade and rested her head against the steering wheel of the Jeep. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what had happened in the past few hours. She wanted to believe Emma, but Billie’s argument had been compelling. Emma was a reporter looking for her next big break, and Billie was a law-enforcement professional searching for the truth. If either of them had a hidden agenda, it had to be Emma. Didn’t it?
She thought about Emma kissing another woman last night and the emptiness she’d felt, the sense of loss. When Billie suggested they ramp up their affair, she’d been only mildly interested. But she couldn’t base Ann’s future on her level of emotional attachment to these women. She needed facts. She raised her head and shifted the Jeep into first gear.
“Carter, what in the Sam Hill is wrong with you? You treated Emma like a leper.”
“As opposed to how generously she’s treated us lately? I told you not to talk to her anymore, but you wouldn’t listen. Now the whole town knows you were dragged into the sheriff’s office and interrogated for hours. Plus, she’s stirred up your relationship with Cass, and that’ll be on everybody’s lips again. Why are you sticking up for her after all she’s done?”
“Because something about this situation stinks to high heaven. And I don’t care what these people think. They’ve known about Cass and me forever, and if they didn’t, they’re blinder than widow Crewson’s three-legged cat.”
Carter started to respond, but Ann said, “I don’t believe for one minute that Emma would purposely hurt either of us. How are you so sure she would and Ms. BCI wouldn’t?”
“I know Billie Donovan. We met a year ago at in-service training, and we’ve been seeing each other off and on since. She’s a BCI agent, for goodness’ sake, and I trust her.” She didn’t tell Ann that Billie had lied about being in a relationship when they met.
“I see. Because you have the hots for her, that means she’s all right? A few days ago you thought Emma was pretty hot too, or have you forgotten? So pardon me if I don’t rely on your hormones as the ultimate measure of reliability and trustworthiness.”
“It’s not about that, Ann. Emma misled us from the beginning about this story—a history piece, my ass.” Damn it, why couldn’t Emma just leave it alone? Carter wanted to believe in her, or had she been expertly manipulated?
Ann slapped her on the arm. “Don’t you listen? Emma didn’t know about the connection between me and Thompson or even Cass until I told her. If you’re angry, it should be with me. Everybody’s known about Cass and me since high school because I refused to hide. And Emma said she didn’t tell Donovan anything. I believe her. Hasn’t that blonde ever told you a lie?”
An intimate lie of omission. Carter shook her head. “I just want to protect you.”
“I know you do, Carter, but that’s never been your job. People in this town have embraced our relationship the best way they could. I’ve never been in any danger, contrary to what you might think.” She patted Carter on the arm. “Can you let go a little?”
“No. You’re in more trouble than ever.”
“Emma’s not the kind of person to let an injustice slide. She won’t give up until she finds Thompson’s killer. But that’s beside the point as far as I’m concerned because I know I didn’t do it. There’s really only one mystery, as far as I can see.”
The slight shift in Ann’s tone alerted Carter that the conversation was about to get personal. She wasn’t sure she wanted to engage, but if it took Ann’s mind off her legal troubles for a few minutes, she’d play along. “And what’s that?”
“Do you still have feelings for Emma, or has that poster child for Botox turned your head completely?”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel. She’s messed with my family, and I can’t forgive that.”
Carter hoped Ann couldn’t see through her façade, but Ann was too wise and loved Carter too much to let her lie to herself.
“You might be able to peddle that garbage to some stranger, but not to me. If you care about Emma, talk to her, soon. If Ms. BCI has her way, you’ll never see Emma again. That blond viper will have your head so twisted, you won’t recognize the truth if it jumps on top of you.”
“Why don’t you like Billie?”
Ann chuckled. “That’s easy. She’s a fake, and I can smell one a mile away.”
“I don’t know about talking to Emma. I have so many questions. The most important one is can I trust her?”
“Just go to her. She’ll do most of the talking. Your challenge is to listen, really listen with an open mind. When she’s finished, let your heart be the judge of whether she’s been honest. You’ll know.”
*
When Donovan’s car turned beside the post office and disappeared, Emma shuffled across the street toward the Stuart Diner. Her stomach churned in protest when she thought about food, but she needed nourishment for the long night ahead. She’d lost the first round with Billie Donovan, but she was more determined than ever to find the killer, clear Ann, and somehow convince Carter that Donovan wasn’t the woman for her.
“Hey, Emma, wait up!”
Harriett’s voice was a foghorn piercing the quiet street. Emma walked faster, hopeful to avoid another grilling by the nosy librarian.
Harriett sprinted two blocks from the sheriff’s office and joined Emma in front of the diner, barely winded from the exertion. Her trademark sack dress swished to a stop around her. Without taking a breath, she launched into questions Emma didn’t want to hear or answer.
“How long have you known Ann was the killer? What led you in that direction? Criminals and the people who track them always fascinate me. And all this sordid business about Ann and Cass, too bad really. Cass was married to Theo Thompson. How can a woman be married and then turn to—”
“Harriett, I really can’t discuss the case with you, ongoing investigation and all that. I’m just going to get a bite to eat. Do you mind?” Emma’s last nerve sizzled and vibrated from all the shrieked questions, and she needed quiet.
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, I’ll join you. I haven’t eaten since my workout this morning, and all this excitement sure does wonders for the appetite.” Without waiting for a response, Harriett steered her into the diner and nudged her into a booth.
Emma took advantage of the brief silence while Harriett perused the menu. She needed to talk to Clem Stevens, and he’
d probably be working the late shift tonight. She’d head over to the superstore warehouse in Rocky Mount as soon as she finished dinner. If he couldn’t provide any useful information, she had only one other possible resource. Hannah Smoltz, the mysterious historian, who hadn’t been seen in days.
Harriett ordered, handed her menu to Loretta, and turned to Emma, her mouth already open for the next question.
Emma cut her off. “So, Harriett, where’s Hannah? I really need to talk with her about this case, but she’s quite elusive.”
The librarian straightened the front of her meticulously ironed dress before meeting Emma’s gaze. “She should be at the museum. Have you checked there?”
The nervous twitch in Harriett’s right eye activated Emma’s reporter mole—a built-in warning device when someone dumped a pile of decaying manure on her head. Harriett’s benign remark poked at her, but before she figured out why, Harriett interrupted.
“I guess I was just a little shocked it turned out to be Ann. I would’ve put my money on Daniel Tanner.”
“Why?” At this point, she was willing to entertain all possible theories. Somewhere in this rambling heap of fact and fiction, the truth waited to be uncovered.
“I’m sure you heard about his financial trouble back then.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“I know, but Theo kept after Tanner to sell his place because he couldn’t afford the taxes. They even came to blows over it once on the street. Everybody saw it.”
Emma pulled out her notebook and scanned her conversation with Daniel Tanner but found no mention of an altercation with Thompson. “Really?” Maybe Harriett wasn’t such a worthless gossip after all. “Anything else?”
Harriett leaned across the table and whispered, “Nothing other than a bad drinking problem. He blacked out and forgot things he’d done for days at a time, so I heard. But as my ma used to say, ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’”
“I thought the drinking was a recent problem.”
“Oh, no. It’s been a lifelong cross for the poor man to bear.”
