37. thirty-five
thirty-five
. . .
ASPEN
Ice slid down my spine.
The principal’s husband ? And the father of Trey’s best friend? That explained his pained expression and wordless retreat.
Fucking hell.
I didn’t realize I’d spoken the words aloud until Lane said, “Yeah. So this should be fun.”
“You’re going to interview him now?” Crew asked.
“Yep. I was about to head over there before you called earlier, actually.”
“I’m coming with,” my man said, and Lane gave him a curt nod.
They headed for the door, but I stopped them.
“Wait, what about me?”
Lane’s smile was brittle, like his facial muscles didn’t want to cooperate. “Oh, you’re coming too, little one.”
On the way into town, Lane glanced at me in the rearview and said, “I don’t need to tell you we need to handle this carefully, right?”
I shook my head. “I’m no stranger to interviews, Sheriff.”
“Just let me do the talking and we’ll be fine. ”
“Then why are we even coming along?” Crew asked.
“I want Aspen to get a read on Ward, see if you have any sort of reaction to him. And you’re here because?—”
“I go where Aspen goes,” he growled at his brother.
Lane laughed and shook his head, but didn’t disagree. “Yes, because I knew you’d raise holy hell if I tried to take Aspen along without you.”
We chatted idly the rest of the drive, my attention out the window as we navigated through the neighborhood. It took me a moment, but with a jolt, I suddenly recognized it as the one I’d had my meltdown in the day I got out of the hospital. I didn’t feel anything as we rolled along the streets, no sense of foreboding or those bad “woo-woo” vibes I often got during an investigation. The neighborhood was clean and quiet, a classic residential area.
Was it harboring a dark secret?
I couldn’t say for sure.
Eventually, we pulled up in front of a gorgeous two-story rancher with impeccable landscaping. Set atop a small hill, stone steps were cut into the incline, marking a path up to the front door. The driveway was level with the street but sloped up to the garage, which was attached to the house via a breezeway.
“Damn, this is beautiful,” I mused unhelpfully.
“I can’t believe we have to do this,” Crew said, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Not exactly my idea of a good time either,” Lane agreed. “Goes to show that sometimes you don’t know what people are hiding behind closed doors.”
After another beat in which we all gathered our courage, we got out and made our way up the path. I stuffed my hands in my pockets so the guys wouldn’t see them shaking as Lane approached and knocked on the door.
My entire body stiffened as I braced for the moment it would open, wondering if I was about to come face to face with my attacker. Would I even know if he was it?
Instead of a man, a gorgeous woman with strawberry blonde hair opened the door, her brows drawing together in confusion. Too young to be Mrs. Saunders, so I had to assume this was the daughter. My god, she was tall. Categorically, I was tiny, but this woman made me feel like an ant. At her feet, a gorgeous blue merle Australian Shepherd pranced around and yipped excitedly.
“Lane? Crew?”
“Hey, Wy,” Lane said. “Your dad home?”
Wyatt scanned Lane up and down, no doubt taking in the uniform. “I take it this isn’t a social call?”
“Afraid not.”
Her blue eyes narrowed on me. “And who is this?”
“Aspen,” I supplied, sticking my hand out. “Aspen McKay.”
Wyatt’s own palm flew to her mouth. “You’re the one from the fire.”
“Yeah,” I shrugged. Honestly, what else was I supposed to say to that?
Hey, yeah, that was me. And by the way, we think your dad is the one responsible!
Absolutely fucking not.
“Aspen, this is Wyatt Saunders,” Crew supplied, though I’d already figured that out.
Wyatt didn’t acknowledge him, returning her attention to Lane. “Is this about her?”
A stiff nod was all he gave her. “Can we come in?”
Wyatt appeared as though she wanted to say no but ultimately stepped aside with a sigh and admitted us into the house.
“Who’s at the door, Wy?” a deep voice called from inside.
Wyatt led us into a sunken living room that branched off the entryway. To the right was an open plan kitchen and dining room. A large man with broad shoulders, salt-and-pepper scruff, and wavy hair that was more grey than black sat on a couch in front of the television, watching Jeopardy! . When we entered, he paused it and shifted forward to stand.
Fuck, he was tall too. Nearly as tall as Crew and Lane, which put him a few inches over six feet. And he looked strong enough to have hauled me around like a rag doll.
I’d be damned if I could pin him as the man who attacked me, though.
I had this idea in my mind that when I set eyes on that person, I would know it deep in my bones. Like a flesh memory activated by being in his presence again.
But nothing happened. My heart didn’t race, my body didn’t seize with fear. As far as I was concerned, he was a normal man and not a crazed killer.
I took that as a good sign. Maybe this would be nothing more than a horrible misunderstanding.
Lane watched us closely, eyes darting back and forth. Subtly, I shook my head.
“Sheriff?” the man said.
“Hey, Ward. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Regarding?”
Lane jerked his head at me as he withdrew his trusty notebook from his pocket. “This is Aspen McKay. She was the one Crew saved in the shop fire a few months ago.”
Ward nodded. “I remember seeing your picture in the paper. Nice to see you out and about.”
I cringed. Had I mentioned I’d been front page news? Public photos of me in recent years didn’t exist, so they’d used my headshot from my Sun Times days to accompany the article and a large picture of the burned-out shop.
At least I didn’t look like a gremlin.
“Thanks,” I said awkwardly.
“Now what is this really about?” Ward asked suspiciously. Next to him, Wyatt’s arms were crossed over her chest. “You don’t think…”
Lane put his hands up placatingly. “This is a routine interview, Ward. Nothing to be worried about. All I need to know is where you were on April twenty-second and twenty-third.”
Ward’s mouth gaped like a fish as he searched for something to say. In the course of my career, both as a journalist and private investigator, I’d seen this type of reaction before. He wasn’t grasping at straws, trying to find a way out of being caught in a lie. He was genuinely shocked, knocked on his ass by the question and that he’d found himself in this situation.
I considered myself somewhat of a professional at reading people, and I knew right then this was not the person responsible for killing all of those people and attempting to murder me.
“On Friday, we had dinner here,” Wyatt said, stepping in to save her father. “After, we went out to the Swallow for drinks and to watch the Rockies game.”
Lane glanced at me, but that piece of information, that he’d been in the area at the time I’d been taken, didn’t change my mind. Again, I shook my head.
“What about Saturday?”
Ward recovered at last, clearing his throat before he spoke.
“I was at a couple job sites,” he said. “First, planting flowers at the community center with the ladies from the council, and then I had to go out to Rauschs’ place for spring maintenance and to prep for the new pool they’re putting in this summer.”
Lane blinked, eyebrows flicking upward, as he jotted that down.
“And that night?”
“He was here all night,” Wyatt chimed in. “I came over for dinner again, and we watched the Rockies again .” Her teeth were clenched, and I couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable and infuriating this had to be for her. “I went a little too hard on the beer, so I slept in my old room. ”
The words rang true, but I didn’t like the way she refused to look at Lane when she spoke, like she was hiding something.
Was it possible she knew more than she was letting on? Was I reading this entire situation wrong? Had that fire burned away my sixth sense for reading people?
I didn’t think so, but Lane picked up on that thread.
“He could’ve snuck out when you were asleep,” he pointed out.
“Not possible,” she assured him. “I’m a light sleeper, and I would’ve heard him disarming the security system.”
Wait . If they had a security system…
“That one of Trey’s?” Lane asked, pointing his pen at the keypad mounted on the wall in the entryway.
“You know it is,” Wyatt said with an eye roll.
“Put it in for free,” Ward added, puffing his chest out proudly, glancing between Lane and Crew. “Good man, your brother.”
“He’s something,” Crew mumbled, only loud enough for me to hear.
Lane gave them a curt nod and closed his notebook, then extended a hand to Ward, who accepted it reluctantly.
“Sorry about this, Ward,” the sheriff said. “I’ll confirm with Trey that the system was armed all night, and we’ll put this all behind us.”
“No problem, Sheriff. I understand you’re just doing your job,” Ward assured him as he led us back to the door.
We’d only been in the house for about ten minutes, but I was grateful to be leaving. The air here was charged with something I couldn’t name. While I didn’t catch any bad vibes from Ward, something about the way Wyatt acted told me maybe we needed to dig a little deeper.
Once we were back in Lane’s cruiser, Crew released a sigh. “Well, that was a bust.”
“I’m not so sure,” I said, closing my eyes and replaying the entire interview over in my mind .
“You caught that too, huh?” Lane asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
I popped my eyes open to see Crew shift in his seat, his baby blues shifting between me and his brother. “Caught what?”
Lane put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, and my attention remained locked on the house until we turned the corner and it disappeared from view.
When Lane spoke again, his tone was edged with excitement, like he was a search dog that had picked up a trail.
“Wyatt Saunders knows something.”