CHAPTER EIGHT #2
The amusement left his face as he watched Selena write.
He shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward, looking down at her taking notes.
“Ray says he and Warren split because Warren was getting reckless with property deals. Risky contracts, bad buyers, a development option on floodplain land. He claims Warren was acting spooked, like he needed money fast.”
“Did Ray say why?”
“No. He said he didn’t know.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I believe he knows more than he said. He’s holding back,” Connor glanced out the window, watching a pickup roll past. “Ray and Warren had an ugly public fight last summer. Ray admits they hated each other, but he says he still feels bad because they were close once.”
“Any alibi for Warren’s death?”
“At home. Wife went to bed around nine, but nobody can vouch for the full night.”
“Did you speak with anyone else?”
“Derek Lyle.”
Selena took out her notebook. “Who’s he?”
“Ray pointed me toward him. Derek worked for Warren and Ray a few years ago. Got accused of stealing cash from the office safe. Warren fired him. Derek sued and lost.”
“Bad blood then?” Selena asked, hopeful.
“Plenty enough for the whole county. Derek says he never stole anything. Claims Warren framed him because Derek saw debt letters Warren didn’t want seen.”
Selena wrote that down. “Debt letters from whom?”
“He didn’t know specifics. Banks. Private lenders. Final demands. Enough for Derek to think Warren was in deeper trouble than people realized.”
“And does he have an alibi?” Selena asked.
“Home alone. He lives with his mother but she’s on vacation.”
“That’s going to be difficult to verify,” she said. “Can you get one of your deputies to check at Derek’s address and Ray’s address for any neighbors who might have a Ring cam or security footage for that night? We might get lucky and see one of them leaving their house.”
Connor nodded. “Ray and Derek both had reason to hate Warren. Both say money was a problem. Both worked with him, so either could’ve known where he went, who he trusted, what would get him to that lodge.”
“Any link between them now?”
“Not that I know. But I’ll have Arnold check calls, business filings, anything showing recent contact. So far, nothing on Warren’s phone seems out of the ordinary.”
“Okay.”
Connor looked at her notebook. “What about you. Find anything on Sandra?”
Selena could hear it in his voice. He wasn’t happy about treating her as a suspect.
Selena turned a page. “I reviewed her public social media. Two weeks ago, after she confronted Warren, her posts changed. Betrayal quotes. Articles about lying husbands. Then one post saying husbands are only good for children and leaving in a ditch.”
Connor’s mouth tightened. “That doesn’t make her a killer.”
“No. But it tells us they weren’t rosy. And she felt betrayed.”
“People post stupid things when they’re hurt. Half the people in this county have posted things they regret after an argument.”
“Some people do more than just write messages,” she replied.
“Selena.”
She looked up.
Connor’s face had closed slightly. Not enough for a stranger to notice. Enough for her.
“You’re keen to rule her out,” Selena said. “I get it. You know them.”
“I’m keen not to decide a grieving widow murdered her husband because she wrote something ugly online.”
“She’s a suspect until she’s not, Connor,” Selena said. “You know how this works.”
He folded his arms in front of his chest. “Sandra’s not the type.”
“Type won’t hold up in court.”
“I know that.”
“Then don’t ask me to ignore her.”
“I’m not.”
“You are a little. And you ignored procedure when we interviewed her with others present. We need to be smarter than that.”
His jaw shifted. “Maybe I don’t like seeing you walk into a room and make an enemy out of everyone in it. You forget how things work around here.”
“I didn’t make them enemies. I asked questions. It’s called police work.”
“I was out of the room,” Connor said. “Then I come back in and they are shouting at you to leave. Maybe it was your tone.”
Selena set the pen down. "Is this about Sandra, or is this about you thinking I don't understand my home anymore?"
Connor looked out through the window again. Selena could see out of it, too.
Main Street moved past them in pieces. A woman pushing a stroller. Two boys on bikes. An old beat-up truck parked near the far curb. Life carrying itself onward while Warren Holt remained dead on a table in Selena’s mind. She could see it pressing down on Connor. Piece by piece.
“I remember meeting you here so many times,” Connor said quietly.
The change in subject was too direct to be accidental.
Selena said nothing.
Connor kept his eyes on the street. “You’d sit right where you are now. Jessie would steal fries from both of us. Hank would threaten to make us wash dishes if we didn’t pay.”
“He never meant it.”
“He made me do it once.”
“You deserved it.”
“Probably.”
"You were wild back then. Always quick to anger. I still can't believe you made Sheriff." She said it with a smile.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’ve really changed at all.”
Selena wondered that, too.
Silence settled over the booth.
Selena lifted her mug and took a sip. The coffee had gone lukewarm. Across from her, Connor still watched the window as if the street might tell him what neither of them could.
The case waited. So did Ray, Derek, Sandra, Warren’s debt, the broken window at the lodge, and whatever had been hidden beneath the county’s neat routines.
Tomorrow would bring more questions. She just hoped Connor would stay in line as she asked them.