Chapter Sixteen #2
She really did want to help. “Well, the husband would be the prime suspect. I’d have the husband’s girlfriend be sketchy, but it wouldn’t be her.
If Nate’s a character in this book, I’d certainly make him look like a main suspect, but I’d want a few options so readers would wonder. ” She thought about her current book.
She was hoping to make it a series, so what if FBI Agent Gage Hewitt and small-town sheriff’s deputy Leah Clark were investigating this case? How would she write it?
“First, I’d probably give the deceased some kind of secret lover. Suspect number one.” Though with Jules Hyatt’s case, they probably would have already found someone like that by now.
And if she were writing it, Nate would probably be the secret lover, but she’d hardly tell Cal that right now.
So what else?
“You’d need someone kind of involved in the case in some way.
The killer would need to be capable of framing the innocent suspect who’s been arrested.
Access and knowledge, to plant any evidence that would lead to a warrant for someone else.
And a person who would know the process—how evidence was secured and used.
Unless it was some sort of accidental happenstance, but that doesn’t make for a very good book. ”
Cal drank his coffee, seemed to absorb and really think about all this. Jill wondered if there was some way to convince him to sleep, because surely this wasn’t a healthy or productive way to deal with his brother being arrested.
“But, in your book version, the killer would have to understand how a case like this works. And, even if they weren’t targeting a singular person to take the fall, they’d have to have some kind of evidence that pointed away from them.
” Cal drummed his fingers on the counter.
“It all comes back to evidence,” he muttered.
“And I don’t know what it is. One verbal argument in a public setting isn’t enough to convict someone of murder, and it sure as hell shouldn’t be enough for an arrest warrant.
Nate didn’t think they’d taken anything of merit from any of their searches. ”
He seemed to say that more to convince himself than because it was true.
“I need to track down the prosecutor today.” He started to pace the narrow aisle of the kitchen. “I need to talk to fucking Hayes without killing him with my bare hands.”
“Grandma talked to Marcy again, but her grandson didn’t know anything about who responded to the call. I feel like if we could get that information, you might be able to finagle some information out of them. Maybe make another connection.”
Cal only grunted. Then he stopped pacing, the wheels in his head clearly turning. “To frame someone—on purpose or on accident—the killer would have to be some kind of law insider? At least in a book version of this shit show.”
“Sure, a lawyer, I suppose,” Jill agreed. “To have access to evidence though they’d probably need to be a police officer or deputy or maybe a…”
Their eyes met, like they’d both come to the same conclusion at the same time. “Detective,” they said in unison.
*
Jake.
It was ludicrous. Cal was finding a lot of fault with Jake these days, but he didn’t think the guy was capable of murder and framing Nate for it.
Did he?
It was a ridiculous jump to make. Jill was talking about fiction, and Cal was standing here trying to apply it to real life.
But Jake Hayes was no more out there as a suspect than Nate was, so why not follow that line of thinking?
“Hayes hates my brother. He made that clear to me. Multiple times. Before this. And as far as I can tell, the only real reason is it pissed him off Sam chose Nate over him.” Jill opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, so he held up a hand to stop her.
“Look, I’m not saying it’s reasonable, I’m just saying that’s the only real reason I can see.
” He might not fully understand Jake, but he did know enough about Jake’s life and background now to maybe come up with a few other reasons.
But for now… “Nate never did anything to him. Why did he care enough to be suspicious of him?”
“Well, we don’t know the evidence the police have. Maybe there’s something more concrete, even if it’s clearly wrong.”
“Maybe, and it’s ludicrous to think Jake did it, but I wonder what he’d do if I floated that possibility?” Cal could all but picture the fury on Jake’s face.
But would it be a guilty fury?
And if it wasn’t guilt, would that fury actually convince Jake he was following all the wrong clues if they led to Nate? If Cal could prove other clues, would that get through Jake’s prejudice against Nate?
Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but he liked this line of thinking. He liked the idea of pinning it on Jake, even if it was bullshit. Maybe Jake could squirm for a bit, instead of Nate and everyone who loved him.
“What do we know about Jake Hayes?” Cal mused aloud. “Divorced parents. Rocky relationship with a dad who died when he was a teenager. I’ve never really heard him discuss his mom.” He glanced at Jill, remembering what she’d said about patterns. “We know he likes younger women.”
“How old was Jules?”
“Nearly forty.”
“Not quite the younger woman there.”
“No, but murder doesn’t have to be caused by a lover’s spat.”
“It could be though,” Jill said thoughtfully.
She got a little line between her eyebrows when she was working something out.
“In my fictional version, Jules Hyatt calls the Marietta PD. Gets sent to Jake. He takes her report, realizes there isn’t anything to be done about it, but they hit it off.
He invites her for drinks. Maybe he tells her he’s looking into it, so she’s happy. She’s got what she wanted and a date.”
“And maybe she’s pissed when she finds out he didn’t take her seriously at all.”
“They have a fight. Jake loses his temper.”
“Kills her, and he knows all about the case with Nate, because Jules was telling him about it. He knows just who to frame.”
Jill sighed. “You know what the problem with all this is?”
“It’s fictional?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. Good story, but I’m not sure it’s real life.”
He sighed. “Yeah, but it feels like something, even if it isn’t. Coming up with possibilities, a story. Nothing else is working. So why not? Besides, I’ll float it to Jake to piss him off if nothing else. Maybe if I rile him up enough, he slips up. That is my specialty.”
She shook her head in a kind of mock disapproval, but she was smiling, so clearly, she didn’t totally disapprove.
He couldn’t smile back, not now, but he did feel … lighter in some way. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to tell her that he’d felt more settled this morning, exhausted and overly caffeinated, with her, working through things, than he had since Nate had called him.
Which brought it all back. The phone call. Dealing with Sam. White as a sheet. Just devastated.
But before that—“Wait. Yesterday Sam said she thought she had something to go on from her talk with Olivia, but it all got lost in the Nate news. Said it wasn’t a big something, but a maybe something.”
“Poor Sam. She’s probably such a wreck.”
“Yeah, she is.” He didn’t want to really deal with that wreck, lest it break down his own shaky walls of control, but… “I’m going up to the ranch to talk to her about this.” He checked his watch.
He wanted to be down at the prosecutor’s office by ten, so he had time.
He started gathering his things. His laptop. Probably grabbing his phone charger was a good idea. He was a little discombobulated, but he didn’t let that stop him. When he got to the door, bag in one hand, keys in the other, Jill stood there, looking at him with a little bit of pity.
“Cal, you’re missing a sock.”
He looked down at his feet. “Right,” he muttered. Okay, he was a little frazzled and that wasn’t the best, but he could hardly stop. Not with Nate in jail.
When he returned with socks on both feet and shoved those feet into shoes, he could feel Jill’s concerned gaze. “Are you sure you shouldn’t get some sleep first?”
“Eventually.”
He stepped out of the apartment, waited for her to follow so he could lock the door. He rushed down the stairs, had to wait again so he could lock the outer door after she stepped into the bright spring morning.
He moved for his car, sensed her hesitate. “You going to follow me up?” he asked, hoping the answer would be yes, even if he had no reason to hope that.
Jill nodded. “Sure.”