I schooled my face, though a flash of something else followed the heels of that question. This is why he brought me down here? I’m a suspect.
Breathing slow and even, I fought to let a rational word in. Of course you’re a suspect. It’s your farm. They know I break in all the time. They know I practice archery. He’d be the terrible cop I said he was if they didn’t bring me in for questioning.
I knew all this, and it did nothing to quell the urge to shove the folder down his throat. Cairo told me the story he made up to his father. He walked in on Bella’s murder and a man shot him and ran away. His own son told him to look for a guy, so why was I here?
“Ella Franklin, the estate agent,” Jack continued, “told us you rescued these items in particular from the estate sale. Buying them back and then requesting permission to keep them in the barn until the farm was sold. Why was it so important that you hold on to these weapons out of the many things you could’ve retained from your childhood?”
I smiled mirthlessly at him. “My grandmother, the woman whose murder you covered up, scrimped and saved to buy me a new set for each birthday. I couldn’t let her gifts—her being Abigail de Souza, you let her killer get away—be sold off to some stranger. My gran”—I leaned over the tape recorder—“died from poisoning and you buried the autopsy results. You remember my grandmother, Sheriff, once again, you covered up her death.”
His face flushed a nasty purple.
“I’d never let the things she gave me end up in someone else’s hands. Does that answer your question, Sheriff Accessory to Murder?”
“Yes,” he gritted. “Thank you.”
“No problem, rat-faced lying bastard.”
“Hey!” Davidson shouted. “Watch your mouth—!”
“Leave us,” Jack ordered.
“But, sir—”
“Now.”
Davidson obeyed. The door shut on the click of the recorder shutting off.
“Let’s try this again,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “Where were you the night of the fifth?”
“I was certainly not trespassing or vandalizing, which are the trumped-up charges you brought me in for, so I guess that means we’re done here.” I rose from my seat.
“I can hold you for twenty-four hours and I intend to do so, but if you’re that eager for a change of venue, I’ll wake up Judge Stone and see how many days we can get you in lockup for resisting arrest and attacking an officer.”
“Do it, then.” I grabbed the knob.
“Gladly, but first I’d like to know where you were during Ruckus Royale?”
I halted. “Excuse me?”
“Crime scene techs recovered something in the sand beneath Scott Cavendish’s body.” There it was again—that smug smile. “Tell me, Rainey, does that look like the charred remains of an arrow to you? Expert like yourself, receiving a new set every year, I’m certain you’re the one to ask.”
I held still, mind racing. I didn’t consider this. Not for a second did I consider this.
“Sit down, please.”
“Not until you tell me what exactly you’re asking,” I said to the door.
“I’m asking where you were during Ruckus, Rainey. I wouldn’t have thought that was a difficult question.”
Slowly, I turned to him. “I was partying with my friends like everyone else. You can ask Amy, Zara, and your daughter— Oh, oops. Paris isn’t your daughter, is she? Mom traded up for a handsome, rich daddy for that kid.”
“Careful,” he hissed.
“Why should I? I see what you’re doing.” I crossed in a bound, smacking my palms on the table. “I bet you wet yourself when the call came that Bella was killed in my home with an arrow. Finally, there was your chance to get rid of the one person who knew the truth of what you’d done.
“Get me tossed in prison as a murderer—and oh look, there’s another unsolved death you can pin on me too. Wrap both those cases in a bow, stamp my name on them, and no one will believe a word I say against you for the rest of my life.”
“That’s absurd!” he roared.
“Is it? Then why am I here when I know Cairo told you the person who attacked him was a man?!”
Shock blew his rage to nothing. “How did you—?”
“Obviously, Cairo told me. So, I ask again, why am I here?”
He didn’t hear the question. Snarl twisting his lips, Jack shoved in my face. “What do you have to do with my son?”
“I rather think that’s between me and him,” I sang.
“You stay away from him!”
“You turn yourself in,” I whipped back. “No? Well then, I guess no one is getting what they want today.”
His forehead knocked mine. “You’re in way over your head, de Souza.” Hot tequila breath filled my nose. “You think you know everything, but, little girl, you can’t see even the corner of this blurred picture. You don’t have the facts,” he barked, “nor the capacity to understand them. Go home and be careful who you slander. Someone who allegedly did the things you accuse me of would have no trouble making a double homicide stick.”