Coach Adamson stared up at her, hunched over the table.
He looked like a broken man, May thought. His handsome face was hollow with despair. His eyes blazed out, bright and frantic. His well manicured hands were clenched together on the wooden desk, so tightly enfolded that his tanned knuckles had gone white.
But as shattered as his demeanor looked, his words told a different story.
In a deep, shaking voice, he began to speak.
"I know why you brought me here. I didn't do it! I don't care what you think or how it looks. I didn't do it!" he pleaded, staring at May with forlorn hope in his eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
In the back office of the police precinct, Owen began working frantically. They needed evidence. Evidence, hard proof, to take this killer down.
In front of him he had the laptop from Coach Adamson's trunk, as well as his cellphone which had been taken from him when he had been checked into the police department.
Adamson had cooperated with police, giving them the access codes to both his devices.
Now, Owen had to check for any evidence that might be on these devices, either hidden away, or else in the record of messages, calls, or emails.
He pressed his lips together, aware of the seriousness of this task and also the pressure of time they were under. He'd watched the first few moments of the interview from the observation room, and it was clear that despite incriminating evidence in the form of the pictures, Coach Adamson was going to deny this every step of the way.
He would fight and fight as long as he could, employing every trick in the book. And then there was the fact he was a popular, respected figure in the community. That made it even more important that they dug up whatever evidence they could.
Owen did not have time to blink. He was fully alert, taking in every last detail, working with a steely determination. He had to find the evidence they needed.
As Owen scrolled to the places in both devices where he wanted to start, he found his thoughts going back to that disastrous conversation with May yesterday.
He could bang his head on the desk, thinking of how badly that had gone. He'd handled the whole thing appallingly. He'd chosen totally the wrong time. Congratulations, Owen, he told himself cynically.
He had rushed it, and then shyness had overwhelmed him, fear of rejection had loomed in his mind, and it had come out wrong.
She'd literally just misunderstood what he was saying. There had been issues with Dan’s Bar, he’d realized that immediately. On the wrong foot from the start, he hadn't gotten the message across in any coherent way to sell the idea of going for a drink, to her. It had been disastrous.
Most humiliating of all, he was sure that somewhere along the line she'd realized what he meant. May was sharp; she’d just been distracted. His efforts had been too little, too late. She hadn't revisited the topic though, and now he had no idea where he stood with her.
But he had still had feelings there, feelings he needed to get out. He'd been thinking about May a lot as he'd driven to his brother’s place, licking his wounds and in need of a few drinks.Even though he’d briefly thought she was insufferable, insensitive, and had broken his heart, deep down his mind had reminded him that she was the most amazing woman. Her integrity, her resolve, her compassion. Not to mention how he could drown in her bright blue eyes and felt warmed when she gave him that wickedly gorgeous smile.
He had barely been able to speak to her when she’d called the next morning. He’d felt offended, rejected, embarrassed, and as if he was suddenly a stranger to her. Thankfully, the events of the morning, happening so fast, had somehow smoothed things over.
Now, to his dismay, he was feeling a flare of hope again. He’d wanted that emotion gone forever, but here it was, back again.
Just a date. One date. Was it too much to ask for? Or should he give up on the idea and just feel grateful that they were in a comfortable and friendly relationship?
Which he hoped they could get back to after how badly last night had played out.
He felt embarrassed, unloved, rejected, and hurt. He also felt confused and angry with himself. But looking at another layer of his feelings, Owen found that he also felt determined that he was going to get things back on a workable footing.
May hadn't meant to hurt him. But now, the whole situation was difficult to talk about.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again.
It was clear that what he needed to do now was focus. Thinking about May wouldn't help solve the crime. Not in any way. And mooning over her wouldn't impress her. Buckling down to work and finding critical evidence on these devices, however, would definitely impress her.
So, calls first.
Owen was relieved to see a record of the recent calls made to and from Adamson's cellphone. This was useful.
He scrolled through, looking at names, and keeping an eye out for any calls made to and from the recorded cellphone numbers of Sadie or Alyssa, both of which he had on file.