"Save it. You found the body. West is going to need to talk to you."
"I'm sorry about your shoes." Scarlett's voice was weak. So weak I didn't have the heart to give her crap about my shoes. They were pretty gross for now, but a run through the wash would fix them up. Nothing was going to fix Vanessa. A wave of nausea hit me at the flash of Vanessa's face, that neat red circle in her forehead. For a second, I could relate to Scarlett's unsettled stomach.
I hadn't seen my father's body but I'd imagined it plenty of times, imagined that red circle in his forehead. Now, I knew exactly what it had looked like. The hole was cleaner than I’d pictured. Precise. I knew from West that the wall behind my father’s desk had been covered in blood. Wherever Vanessa had been shot, there was probably a similar spray of blood. Evidence.
Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I tapped my phone screen with my free hand, pulling up the number to the front desk. When the manager answered, I said, “Close the gardens to guests until further notice. Same for the terrace. I’ll explain later.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll take care of it immediately.”
The last thing I needed was a guest stumbling across blood spatter or a dead body. Not the kind of review that brought in the high-dollar bookings. Glancing back down the path to the cottages, I scanned for signs of any guests in search of breakfast. No one so far.
I hadn't lied to Scarlett. The cottages were a special case this summer. As always, they were booked solid until winter. Royal and I had been trying to build more of them for years. Guests loved the stone and timber cottages overlooking the river, the combination of privacy and lush indulgence.
Our father had turned down our proposal repeatedly, but once Griffen took charge, we were a go. Finally, the new cottages were taking shape, the noise of construction distanced from our guests by the cottage we'd kept empty as a buffer. Even with that, I'd made sure to touch base with every group when they checked in to make sure they knew their comfort was of utmost importance. Scarlett had not been among them. Of that, I was sure. At the moment, it might be the only thing I was sure of.
I swept the garden and the path one more time, my eyes avoiding the place where Vanessa's body lay, and pulled Scarlett back onto the lawn beside the gravel path. "Scarlett, we need to have a conversation before West gets here."
She looked up at me, her green eyes unfocused. I closed a hand over her shoulder and gave her a shake. "Scarlett, look at me." She did as ordered, her eyes slowly clearing, the dazed expression draining away, replaced by horror.
"She's dead. The woman I saw earlier. Someone killed her right here."
"She is. And I think they did."
Scarlett tensed, her muscles ready for flight. I grabbed her wrist and tugged again, drawing her attention back to me.
"Take a deep breath. I need you to focus. Why are you here?"
Her face went flat. "I didn't kill her."
"I know you didn't. I ran into you only a few seconds after Vanessa took off."
Scarlett was no dummy. Her eyes focused to laser sharpness, locking to mine. "You couldn't have killed her either. I saw her go past me and then you came up the path behind her."
"Vanessa is dead and you and I are the only two people we know didn't kill her." Scarlett took a hesitant step closer to me. She was shaky, smelled like puke, and she was still gorgeous. All of that left me feeling like an ass when I pushed my advantage. "I was about to call the police chief to report you for trespassing. You and Vanessa."
I waited for her to work through that part. "I was trespassing," she admitted, "but you know I didn't kill her. You know I didn't."
"I do. So, I guess that makes us partners."
Scarlett's white teeth sank into her lush bottom lip. I forced myself to look away, catching her reluctant nod of agreement from the corner of my eye. I did not need to make this any more complicated than it already was.
West was the police chief. He was also one of my oldest friends. That wouldn't stop him from throwing my ass in jail if I was the best suspect for Vanessa's murder. My brother Ford was serving a ten-year sentence in prison right now for our father's murder. No one believed he'd killed Prentice, not even West, but Ford was the best and only suspect. He'd argued with Prentice just before Prentice had been found with a hole in his head.
Ford had been set up. We just hadn't been able to prove it. And now, here was Vanessa, shot in the head right after she'd argued with me in full view of most of the guest rooms in the Inn. I didn't want to be paranoid, but if it hadn't been for Scarlett's inconveniently convenient presence… I didn't even want to consider what that would mean.