fingerprints on the gun. I’ve heard nothing about if they found gunpowder residue on his hand.”
She snorted—a subtle, ladylike snort, but a snort just the same. “You know, they probably didn’t even check.” Her head jerked right, then left, her gaze scanning the aisle. “Or they did and didn’t find any. I wonder if they let his attorney know.”
“So Amber’s hired an attorney even though the charges haven’t officially been filed?”
“They’ll be as soon as he wakes up. Why wait? But the lawyer—he’s nice and all, but I don’t know how well he’ll do. Honestly, I don’t think there’s ever been a murder in Mystique. At least not one that went to trial.”
“So he’s not familiar with criminal defense?”
“No.”
Clark let out a long, tired sigh. “That doesn’t bode very well for Mr. Ellison. Is there anyone else we could hire? The station would pay for his legal fees.”
Her beautiful eyes widened, and he thought he caught a glimpse of respect and gratitude shimmering in the irises. “It’s a kind offer, but there’s no one else here.”
There it was again—the challenge in not only her words, but her eyes, as well. That look made him want to be the man he thought he’d left behind. The man who fought the battles that needed fighting, no matter what the odds. “Then we’ll have to help.”
That stopped her in her tracks. Those expressive eyes of hers widened. Her hands dropped from her hips and hung loosely at her sides. She shifted her weight from one heeled foot to the other. “You really do believe he’s innocent.”
“I do. And I meant what I said—we’ll use all of KLUV’s resources to uncover the truth. Mr. Ellison might have already sold the station when Mr. Alspeed was murdered, but Mr. Alspeed was an employee. I want to get to the bottom of this.”
“Me, too. Where do we start?”
“Let me do some digging and see if I can find out about the gunpowder residue. That’d be a good starting point.”
Her mouth dropped open, hung agape for a long second, then her lips clamped shut. “I need to get these groceries home.”
“Why don’t I meet you at the station when you’re done? We can put together a game plan of sorts.” He held his breath, then argued against his own logic. Why did he care a flip what she thought? She was an employee. He was her boss.
“I’ll finish up here, then meet you at KLUV. Eric should be there now. Talk with him. He’s been station manager for several years. Even though he’s a little young and cocky, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders.”
Except she wasn’t aware of his conversation with Eric, where the station manager had all but told him to back out of buying KLUV. What would she say if she knew?
Turning away from him, she headed to the registers, her step still brisk and purposeful, but thankfully no longer as anger-fueled as it had been.
Clark watched her go, questioning himself. Just why, he railed against his stupid emotions, did it matter so much what opinion Gabby Rogillio had of him? He couldn’t answer.
He only knew it did.
After completing his shopping, checking out, then running the staples to his house, he headed to KLUV. He whipped into the parking lot, taking note that Gabby’s SUV was already parked in its familiar place.
He strode into the coolness, grateful to be out of the early afternoon’s unforgiving sun.
“Hello, Mr. McKay.” The part-time receptionist, Ellen, smiled a little too brightly as she stood and handed him several slips of paper. “Here are your messages. I’m glad you got here before I left so I could give them to you personally.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a curt nod and took the slips. He’d have to see about hiring an afternoon receptionist soon. “Are Eric and Gabby in his office?”
“Yes, sir.” She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “With the door closed,” she whispered.
What did that mean? What was she implying? Maybe
She snorted—a subtle, ladylike snort, but a snort just the same. “You know, they probably didn’t even check.” Her head jerked right, then left, her gaze scanning the aisle. “Or they did and didn’t find any. I wonder if they let his attorney know.”
“So Amber’s hired an attorney even though the charges haven’t officially been filed?”
“They’ll be as soon as he wakes up. Why wait? But the lawyer—he’s nice and all, but I don’t know how well he’ll do. Honestly, I don’t think there’s ever been a murder in Mystique. At least not one that went to trial.”
“So he’s not familiar with criminal defense?”
“No.”
Clark let out a long, tired sigh. “That doesn’t bode very well for Mr. Ellison. Is there anyone else we could hire? The station would pay for his legal fees.”
Her beautiful eyes widened, and he thought he caught a glimpse of respect and gratitude shimmering in the irises. “It’s a kind offer, but there’s no one else here.”
There it was again—the challenge in not only her words, but her eyes, as well. That look made him want to be the man he thought he’d left behind. The man who fought the battles that needed fighting, no matter what the odds. “Then we’ll have to help.”
That stopped her in her tracks. Those expressive eyes of hers widened. Her hands dropped from her hips and hung loosely at her sides. She shifted her weight from one heeled foot to the other. “You really do believe he’s innocent.”
“I do. And I meant what I said—we’ll use all of KLUV’s resources to uncover the truth. Mr. Ellison might have already sold the station when Mr. Alspeed was murdered, but Mr. Alspeed was an employee. I want to get to the bottom of this.”
“Me, too. Where do we start?”
“Let me do some digging and see if I can find out about the gunpowder residue. That’d be a good starting point.”
Her mouth dropped open, hung agape for a long second, then her lips clamped shut. “I need to get these groceries home.”
“Why don’t I meet you at the station when you’re done? We can put together a game plan of sorts.” He held his breath, then argued against his own logic. Why did he care a flip what she thought? She was an employee. He was her boss.
“I’ll finish up here, then meet you at KLUV. Eric should be there now. Talk with him. He’s been station manager for several years. Even though he’s a little young and cocky, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders.”
Except she wasn’t aware of his conversation with Eric, where the station manager had all but told him to back out of buying KLUV. What would she say if she knew?
Turning away from him, she headed to the registers, her step still brisk and purposeful, but thankfully no longer as anger-fueled as it had been.
Clark watched her go, questioning himself. Just why, he railed against his stupid emotions, did it matter so much what opinion Gabby Rogillio had of him? He couldn’t answer.
He only knew it did.
After completing his shopping, checking out, then running the staples to his house, he headed to KLUV. He whipped into the parking lot, taking note that Gabby’s SUV was already parked in its familiar place.
He strode into the coolness, grateful to be out of the early afternoon’s unforgiving sun.
“Hello, Mr. McKay.” The part-time receptionist, Ellen, smiled a little too brightly as she stood and handed him several slips of paper. “Here are your messages. I’m glad you got here before I left so I could give them to you personally.”
“Thank you.” He gave her a curt nod and took the slips. He’d have to see about hiring an afternoon receptionist soon. “Are Eric and Gabby in his office?”
“Yes, sir.” She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “With the door closed,” she whispered.
What did that mean? What was she implying? Maybe
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