My brow cocked. Good for her. I was being a dick. I respected her standing up to me. Not many people did. Especially women.
“I need to make sure I am one-thousand percent clear. There is someone else involved in this attack. You are saying three people. You, your attacker, and a mystery person who pulled the trigger of a gun that is not yours.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“It doesn’t align with the witness account.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
“So is guilt after shooting a dude through the eye.”
“You think I’m making this up so I won’t have to be responsible for a man’s death?”
I shrugged.
Pissed now, her controlled armor began to chip. With narrowed eyes and a twitching jaw, she pinned me to my seat with a look as cold as ice.
“I understand that blaming me for my attacker’s death is the easiest way to go detective. Call it self-defense, call me a liar, and forget about the third person. Close the case and get back to your pink sprinkle-donuts. I get it, but I’d appreciate a little more respect than the snide remarks you consider professional.”
“Had that bottled up, didn’t you, Miss Harper?”
“Call me Sunny. Easier on your vocabulary.”
Alright. So we had a spitfire on our hands.
“Let’s recap here, then, Sunny. After a long day driving to visit a kennel in Missouri—where you don’t breed, you buy—you decided to take a jog in the park on your way home. Stretch your legs. Midway through your jog, you noticed a man in the woods, who attacked you when you stopped running. Mid-attack, another person came to your rescue, shot your attacker, killing him, then ran away, leaving you holding a gun over the dead body. Am I leaving anything out?”
“No.”
“So you’re confirming that there are two victims here, then.”
“Two?”
“The man who was just unloaded at the morgue, and you.”
“I’m not a victim.”
“I suggest you reconsider that for the sake of this incident.”
“I defended myself.” Venom shot from her eyes. “I am not a victim.”
That instinct in my gut? Damn thing tingled. There was more to this story, I was sure of it.
“Let’s go back to your attacker. Did he say anything to you?”
“No.”
“Not even mutter something during the attack?”
“No.”
“Think, Sunny.”
“No. Nothing was said.”
“What about anything on him? You said you didn’t see a knife, but did he have anything else in his hands? Any kind of weapon? A stick? A gun? A cell phone? Did you notice anything at all?”
“No.”
“No, as in, he didn’t have a weapon, or you didn’t notice one?”
“I didn’t see a weapon.” For the first time, she paused, looking up in deep thought. “That’s weird, right? That he didn’t have a weapon?”
“You’re only assuming he didn’t.”
“Why wouldn’t he have used it, then?” Her eyes rounded. “Do you think he intended to abduct me?”
“You tell me.”
Her back straightened, this new line of thinking obviously spinning her wheels. “I don’t know…”
I sat back, contemplating my next question.
“Did you notice if your attacker had a limp?”
“A limp?”
“Yes.”
“No, not that I noticed.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you subconsciously noticed while he was running up? Or maybe he favored a right or left leg during the attack?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. Same questions for this third mystery person now. The person who threw you to the ground and killed your attacker. You’re sure you didn’t get a look at him or her?”
“I’m positive. Trust me, I’d be drawing you a picture if I did.”
“Did you notice anything about the person? Clothes, hat or no hat, weapon, tattoos, skin color, hair color, anything?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Limp?”
“No.”
“Like a ghost, then.”
Her gaze leveled mine. “Yes.”
“The bare finger on your left hand suggests you’re not married, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Since when?”
“Since a long time.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Everything’s my business right now. Take some time thinking about your former lovers and let me know if you think any of them might fit this bill. Assuming there are some, of course.”
Those eyes squinted.
“Are you an only child?”
“Yes.”
“Parents?”
“My dad lives in Dallas. My mom is no longer with us.”
“I’d appreciate his contact information and the contact info for the dog breeder you visited earlier today.”
“Why? To determine if I’m telling the truth?”
“Your attack ended in a man’s death. It’s my job to gather everything I can surrounding the incident, including the whereabouts of everyone involved.”
“Fine.”
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Thank you for toning down your smartassery.”
I pulled my card from my pocket and tossed it across the table. “If you think of anything else, give me a call. Day or night.”
She slid the card into one of the many hidden pockets in those leggings. “When do I get my gun back?”
“It’ll be awhile.” I stood. “Do you have a ride back to your car?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ll take you.” I turned and made my way to the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Colson slid out of the observation room as I stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed. He jerked his chin and I followed him into his office, where he closed the door behind us.
“How much did you catch?” I asked.
He drug his fingers through his hair. “Everything, and not damn enough.”
“Agreed.”
His phone rang. He silenced it, lingering on the blinking red light a moment before shaking his head. “Shit never sleeps. Never fucking sleeps. What are your initial thoughts?”
“Do you have old man Erickson’s interview notes?”
“Yeah.” Colson picked up his notebook and tossed it into my hands.
I flipped through the pages. “Jesus, dude, did you sleep through handwriting in school? How the fuck is anyone supposed to read this shit?”
He snatched it back. “What do you need to know? You’re such an asshole.”
“Did Erickson mention anything about seeing a third person?”
“No.”
“He said he only saw Sunny and Julian?”
“Right.”
“Did he say specifically that he saw Sunny Harper shoot Julian in the head?”
Colson skimmed his notes. “Yes.”