side of the room. They hadn’t reached them before a large black man stepped out of an office farther down the hall. He seemed to recognize Layla and came toward them.
“Mrs. McCallister,” he said, inclining his head, which was so bald and shiny it reflected the fluorescent lighting. He put out his hand, and Layla took it, though Sadie felt sure she gave a limp-noodle handshake at best. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Layla said in her flat tone. She seemed annoyed to be here.
The man turned to Sadie and the expression on his face was so instantly familiar that Sadie nearly startled at the unexpected reminder of Pete that flashed through her mind. This man was younger, broader, taller, and darker, but the way he held his eyes and the careful smile on his face was just like Pete. It further confirmed her suspicions that such neutral expressions were taught to police detectives throughout the country. He put out his hand, and Sadie focused on giving him a firm shake, like her father had taught her to do many years ago. Dad had told her when you gave a strong handshake, it inspired confidence and respect in the other person. Sadie hoped it was true.
“I’m Sadie Hoffmiller,” she said with a nod as they dropped hands. “I’m a friend of Eric Burton’s and was at Mrs. McCallister’s house when you called. She asked me to drive her over.” It was hard not to say more—lay out all the details—so she clamped her teeth together to prevent herself from giving in. The police in Garrison thought she was a busybody. She wanted to make a better impression on this man. She liked to think of this as a whole new start in regard to her relationship with law enforcement.
“I’m Sergeant Mathews,” the man said with a nod, then extended his arm toward the room he’d just exited and looked at Layla, his expression softening a little. “My office, if you please.”
Sadie tried to hide her surprise at being included. The other officers she’d been involved with had tried to keep her out of things. Of course, it hadn’t worked, but they had tried. Maybe they did things differently in Florida, or maybe they could see what the Colorado police couldn’t, that Sadie was an asset and not a liability to their investigation. The thought made her smile, and she walked a little taller as she followed Layla into Sergeant Mathews’s office.
Sadie and Layla sat in the leather chairs across from the desk while the detective closed the door behind them. His chair creaked when he sat down, and he immediately tapped his fingers on a closed file on his desk.
“I had hoped Mr. Burton would be here by now,” Sergeant Mathews began, his eyes on Layla after a quick glance at his watch.
“He said he’d be back by nine,” Layla answered. She sat up straight in the chair, her hands resting on her tanned knee, crossed over her other leg. She was very still and Sadie wondered if she was nervous about what was coming.
“Do you know where he went?” Sergeant Mathews asked.
“I don’t know,” Layla said in that airy voice of hers. “But he told me not to worry.”
The sergeant nodded thoughtfully, and Sadie couldn’t help but add more information so as to help him get a full picture of what was going on. “Layla’s been trying to call him, but he isn’t answering,” she said, giving the detective an intent look she hoped would alert him to her concern.
Sergeant Mathews held her eyes for a moment, and then nodded his understanding, encouraging Sadie to continue.
“You said he was coming here. Did you get a hold of him?”
“Yes, but we only spoke for a few seconds. He said he’d be in as soon as he could.” He paused thoughtfully. “Do you have any reason to believe he’s in some kind of trouble?”
Sadie hesitated. Did selling his trailer and wanting Megan’s box count toward adequate reason for being worried about him? She wasn’t sure that was what Sergeant Mathews was looking for.
“He said not to
Dianna Love
Sarah Salway
Aspen Drake
W. Somerset Maugham
Jackie Ashenden
Robert Vaughan
Anthony E. Ventrello
Destiny Davis
Matt Hilton
Lachlan's Bride