She refused to delve into Elijah’s motivations. Each time she did, she ended up with insomnia and a headache. “Okay, what do you want from me?”
“Talk to him. Figure out why he keeps sticking around.”
She set down her purse and swiped away an annoying strand of hair. “What makes you think he’d listen to me?”
Dark eyes narrowed. “You’re joking, right?”
“Why would I joke?”
Edith blew out an aggravated breath. “Everyone on the jury knew he had a thing for you. He barely looked up during his trial until you came in and testified. Then he could not take his eyes off you.”
She remembered how his intense gray gaze had reached across the room and all but wrapped around her. By then, she’d been married to Clarke and visibly pregnant. She had worn a large coat, hoping to hide her growing belly. “I can’t help that, can I?”
“He’s still here because of you. You do understand that, right?” The pitch of her voice rose with the color in her cheeks.
“I have no control over Elijah, and why do you care?”
“Because he scares me! He’s going to come after me.”
“Why?”
Edith gripped her car keys tighter. “I voted guilty. I sent him to jail for ten years.”
“Given the evidence, it was a logical choice. We all thought he was guilty.”
Edith’s lips pursed. “Well, he wasn’t, and now he’s out. And ten years is a long time to foster a grudge.”
“Has he made any threats?”
“He doesn’t have to. He has a way of looking at me that makes my skin crawl.”
“You had no way of knowing he was set up. You voted on the evidence presented to you.”
“I didn’t believe him. He said he was innocent over and over, and I thought he was a liar. I said as much to the media after I sent him to jail. And I’m afraid he’s going to come after me sooner or later.”
“I think you’re giving yourself too much credit.” Edith might have sent him to prison, but Ann was denying the man the truth about his child.
“How can you say that?” Edith shouted. “He’s coming after me.”
“He’s free. And he doesn’t want to return to prison. He’s not going to endanger his liberty.”
“Do us all a favor and find another place to live.” Edith gripped Ann’s arm in a tight hold. “You have a talent for picking troubled men, and we’re all suffering for it. God help us when Nate gets a little older.”
The rage that surged in Ann was instant. She ripped her arm free, feeling the scrape of Edith’s nails against her skin. Instead of retreating, she closed the gap between them. “Don’t you ever speak against my son. He is innocent.”
“How can he be? He’s already proven he’s smarter than any boy his age should be. It’s not natural, and it’s going to lead to trouble.”
“Get off my property!” Ann stepped so close the pizza box bumped the woman. “Get off now, or you won’t have to worry about Elijah. You’ll have to fear me.”
Edith took a step back. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise,” she warned as she jabbed the pizza box again into Edith, forcing her back several more steps. She kept pushing until the woman turned on her heel and got back into her car.
“I’m calling the cops!”
“Be my guest,” Ann said.
Ann did not budge from her corner of the yard until Edith’s taillights had vanished around the corner.
As she stood at the edge of her property, she gripped the pizza box so tightly that her fingers dented the cardboard. Her constricted chest muscles made it difficult to breathe, and she had to force herself to pull in air. A car door three houses down closed, and someone’s front door opened. She had become a spectacle for the neighbors. Terrific.
Ann retraced her steps, picked up her purse, and set it in the foyer before she slammed her front door. She carried the pizza into the kitchen and tossed it on the counter, her appetite gone.
She poured herself a full cup of wine. As she sipped, her temples pulsed. “Bitch.”
Her phone rang, and when she glanced at the display and saw Bryce’s name, she let it go to voicemail. He was a sharp enough cop to detect the stress in her voice if she spoke to him now.
She kicked off her shoes, walked to the window, and took another sip. There were elements of truth in Edith’s words. She had chosen men who lived in the shadows, men who kept secrets, and men who were dangerous. If she were her own patient, she would have suggested a convent.
Her phone beeped: 1 Voicemail.
Worse still, she was attracted to Bryce. He excited her in ways she had not felt in years. Alive, hopeful, sensual. She drank more wine. “Based on my history, he’s probably a serial killer.”
She pressed fingertips to her temple. And if he was not a murderer, he was at the very least better off without her. She took a gulp of wine and then played back the message.
“Ann, it’s Bryce. The Helena victim has been identified. You’re welcome to join me at the forensic center tomorrow in Missoula.”
She set the phone down and considered refilling her glass. However, at the rate she was going, she would end up with another hangover, and she needed to be sharp. Catching this killer might provide an outlet for her anger and frustration.
She grabbed a piece of pizza and took several bites. Her nerves settled a fraction, and she realized she wanted in on this case. She could not do anything about Clarke or Elijah, but she sure as hell could catch this monster.
Wiping her fingers, she texted Bryce: Give me a time and place, and I’ll meet you.
He responded immediately. I’ll pick you up. See you at 7:30 a.m.
Paul Thompson sat on the Deer Lodge motel bed as the muted television broadcast the local news. The room was decorated in a 1980s cowboy vibe with a picture featuring racing horses, wallpaper that mimicked the interior of a log cabin, and bedspreads that were a muddy brown with a white trim. This was traveling on a budget.
His phone chimed with a text, and he was a little surprised to see the sender’s name.
Nena: Keep thinking about our interview.
Paul: What about it?
Nena: You kept asking me about why I had a thing for Elijah. Now I know why.
Paul: Why?
Nena: It was comforting to know he was locked away. I was his link to the outside world. I was in control.
Paul: You like control.
Nena: Yes, very much.
Paul: How did it feel to know there were other women?
Nena: Maddening.
As he fluffed the pillows behind his back, he changed the channel to the other news station. He was waiting for the reporter to say something about the fire near Anaconda. Back in Nashville, a story like that would not have been big news, but out here, where the land could be drier than tinder, everyone paid attention.
And he made note of fires because he was here to interview Elijah Weston.
Nena: I’d like to see you again.
Paul: Why? We covered it all in the interview.
Nena: There’s more I want to tell you.
Paul: What?
Nena: Only in person.
Paul: I’ll get back to you.
Paul used this phone exclusively for interviewees, because he never knew when he might end up with a crazy one. Tossing it aside, he reached for his personal phone and scrolled through the texts. Nothing from his ex-girlfriend, thankfully. She had been a pain in the ass after the breakup. And nothing from his agent, who thought he might have a line on sponsorships for the Weston podcast.