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Authors: Carol Ericson
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vet—especially one like Jim Kennedy.”
Before she had a chance to ask him why Jim was so special, he ended the call.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s station, her aching muscles were screaming at her. She’d made the drive clutching the steering wheel and sitting on the edge of her seat.
She felt a particular urgency biting at her heels—something telling her that if she didn’t get Jim out tonight, he would never get out.
She scrambled from the car and jogged to the station entrance. Deputy Stevens looked up from behind the front desk.
“I’m here to pick up Jim Kennedy. Are you done harassing him?”
Stevens’s mouth dropped open. “H-his fingerprints were on the murder weapon, which belonged to his father.”
“And he had alibis about a mile long.”
Stevens held up his hands. “This was county’s arrest. Don’t jump on me.”
“Well, is he done?” She wedged a hand on her hip and tapped the toe of her boot.
“I think so. They’ll bring him up when they’re ready. Deputy Collins didn’t even book him, so there’s no paperwork to process.”
Scarlett wheeled around and paced to the other side of the room. After about fifteen minutes of handwringing and peppering Stevens with questions, she froze when she heard a door open down the hall.
The distinctive tone of Jim’s low voice carried across the room, and Scarlett rushed to the front desk.
Jim and Deputy Collins, deep in conversation, came down the hallway. Jim jerked his head up, his eyes widening briefly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to pick you up. I spoke to Wade Lewiston earlier this evening. He said you told him to have me pick you up.”
“I was going to call you. Didn’t want you hanging around here.”
“And I didn’t want you hanging around here any longer than you had to.” Her gaze shifted to Collins and she pursed her lips. “Everything straightened out?”
Jim massaged the back of his neck. “Almost everything. I’d still like to know who stole Slick’s knife—a knife that conveniently had my fingerprints on it.”
“We want to know the same thing.” Deputy Collins shook Jim’s hand. “We’ll keep you updated. Sorry about the mix-up.”
“You were just doing your job.”
“Your stuff.” Stevens pushed out of his chair and grabbed a box from a credenza. He held out the box to Jim and shook it. “We unloaded your weapon, but your license and permit checked out. You’re free to take it.”
Jim placed the box on a desk and pocketed his wallet and keys. He shoved the gun into his jacket pocket and dumped the bullets into his palm. “Someone’s going to come out tomorrow to dust the garage for prints?”
“Yeah, we’ll call first.”
Jim held the door open for her and when she stepped outside, the cool air stung her hot cheeks. She rounded on Jim. “How could you be so polite? They arrested you. They handcuffed you and dragged you into the station like some dirtbag criminal.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “They had a murder weapon with my prints on it. What do you want them to do, ignore the evidence?”
His words sounded reasonable, but his hands felt unsteady. He dropped them quickly.
“You’re a better person than I am. I would’ve been livid. You were with me when I stumbled across the body. I wouldn’t have noticed if you’d had blood all over you? The cops showed up almost immediately after. They wouldn’t have noticed any other blood besides what you had on your hands?”
“It’s over, Scarlett, at least this part.”
“What does that mean and why is everyone talking in riddles tonight?”
“I wanna know if someone tried to set me up for Rusty’s murder.”
“Why would someone do that?”
He nudged her back. “Let’s get in the car.”
As she grabbed the driver’s-side handle, he asked, “Are you okay after drinking that wine?”
“Are you kidding? I barely got started on that bottle before we were rudely
Before she had a chance to ask him why Jim was so special, he ended the call.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s station, her aching muscles were screaming at her. She’d made the drive clutching the steering wheel and sitting on the edge of her seat.
She felt a particular urgency biting at her heels—something telling her that if she didn’t get Jim out tonight, he would never get out.
She scrambled from the car and jogged to the station entrance. Deputy Stevens looked up from behind the front desk.
“I’m here to pick up Jim Kennedy. Are you done harassing him?”
Stevens’s mouth dropped open. “H-his fingerprints were on the murder weapon, which belonged to his father.”
“And he had alibis about a mile long.”
Stevens held up his hands. “This was county’s arrest. Don’t jump on me.”
“Well, is he done?” She wedged a hand on her hip and tapped the toe of her boot.
“I think so. They’ll bring him up when they’re ready. Deputy Collins didn’t even book him, so there’s no paperwork to process.”
Scarlett wheeled around and paced to the other side of the room. After about fifteen minutes of handwringing and peppering Stevens with questions, she froze when she heard a door open down the hall.
The distinctive tone of Jim’s low voice carried across the room, and Scarlett rushed to the front desk.
Jim and Deputy Collins, deep in conversation, came down the hallway. Jim jerked his head up, his eyes widening briefly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to pick you up. I spoke to Wade Lewiston earlier this evening. He said you told him to have me pick you up.”
“I was going to call you. Didn’t want you hanging around here.”
“And I didn’t want you hanging around here any longer than you had to.” Her gaze shifted to Collins and she pursed her lips. “Everything straightened out?”
Jim massaged the back of his neck. “Almost everything. I’d still like to know who stole Slick’s knife—a knife that conveniently had my fingerprints on it.”
“We want to know the same thing.” Deputy Collins shook Jim’s hand. “We’ll keep you updated. Sorry about the mix-up.”
“You were just doing your job.”
“Your stuff.” Stevens pushed out of his chair and grabbed a box from a credenza. He held out the box to Jim and shook it. “We unloaded your weapon, but your license and permit checked out. You’re free to take it.”
Jim placed the box on a desk and pocketed his wallet and keys. He shoved the gun into his jacket pocket and dumped the bullets into his palm. “Someone’s going to come out tomorrow to dust the garage for prints?”
“Yeah, we’ll call first.”
Jim held the door open for her and when she stepped outside, the cool air stung her hot cheeks. She rounded on Jim. “How could you be so polite? They arrested you. They handcuffed you and dragged you into the station like some dirtbag criminal.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “They had a murder weapon with my prints on it. What do you want them to do, ignore the evidence?”
His words sounded reasonable, but his hands felt unsteady. He dropped them quickly.
“You’re a better person than I am. I would’ve been livid. You were with me when I stumbled across the body. I wouldn’t have noticed if you’d had blood all over you? The cops showed up almost immediately after. They wouldn’t have noticed any other blood besides what you had on your hands?”
“It’s over, Scarlett, at least this part.”
“What does that mean and why is everyone talking in riddles tonight?”
“I wanna know if someone tried to set me up for Rusty’s murder.”
“Why would someone do that?”
He nudged her back. “Let’s get in the car.”
As she grabbed the driver’s-side handle, he asked, “Are you okay after drinking that wine?”
“Are you kidding? I barely got started on that bottle before we were rudely
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