Chapter 3
Three
Aubrey drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel, holding on tight but not going anywhere. Her gaze fixed on the open door of Stephen’s three-story mansion.
Leaves skittered across the paved drive, the manicured lawn a perfect backdrop against the clear blue sky. Sunlight streamed through the canopy of trees and heated the inside of her SUV.
It would be a gorgeous day if there wasn’t a dead woman inside the house.
She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. Liam had said he would get the police to come to the house. Come on. What’s taking them so long?
Aubrey glanced at her phone and sighed. Just when she’d finally found a place to put down roots, somewhere where she wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder, tragedy occurred.
A bead of sweat trickled down her back, and she shivered.
Please, God, let him be safe.
She really didn’t expect an audible response. It had been a long time since she’d spoken with the Lord. And an even longer time since she’d felt His presence in her life.
A tap on her car window startled Aubrey out of her musings, and she jerked away from the door. Heart pounding out of her chest, she closed her eyes for a beat and held her breath.
When she opened them again, she exhaled at the sight of one of Renegade’s finest standing at her door, a concerned look on his face. Aubrey cracked the window open, and a soft mountain breeze lifted the ends of her hair, rushing across her cheeks and cooling her skin.
“Ma’am? Are you okay?” His name tag read Ferguson, and his tactical belt creaked as he rested his hands on his trim waist.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave him a wobbly smile and pointed to the big house. “You might want to get the crime-scene techs, because Judge Mullinax’s housekeeper is in there, lying in a pool of blood in the entry between the kitchen and dining room.”
Bile rose up her throat, and she forced back the sour taste.
Officer Ferguson stepped back, hand on his gun holster, looking imposing with his uniform and short hair. “Ma’am, can you get out of your vehicle, please.”
That wasn’t a question.
Hands shaking, she unbuckled her seat belt, then glanced around the driveway as two more cruisers stopped behind her vehicle. An ambulance skidded to a stop behind the patrol cars, lights flashing, and a pair of EMTs in matching navy uniforms emerged carrying medical bags.
“Slowly, please.”
She nodded and exited her SUV and almost collapsed against the side panel.
“Driver’s license, please.”
“I need to reach into my car and get my purse.” This guy looked like he was a powder keg ready to explode, with his red face and defensive stance.
“Fine, no fast movements.”
She nodded and reached in to grab her purse. Slowly, she unzipped her bag and pulled out her wallet with her ID.
He held his hand out, and she placed her Colorado driver’s license in his outstretched hand. “I’m Aubrey Richardson. I work for the US Marshals.”
He glanced at her ID, then back at her. Nodded once. “I’m going to call this in. Be back in a minute.”
Where could she go? The officers had purposefully blocked her in. If she’d been trying to hide the body, she certainly wouldn’t have hung around and waited until the cops showed up. She would’ve called 911 on her way out of town.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the driver’s door. A patch of clouds had obscured the sun, throwing her in a pocket of shade, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill.
“Well, you are who you say you are.” Officer Ferguson handed Aubrey her driver’s license.
She resisted rolling her eyes. Of course she was who she said she was. She came by her red hair honestly, and not out of a bottle.
Aubrey tucked the license in her skirt pocket. “So I can leave?” She glanced over his shoulder to see a plainclothes detective walking toward them. Great.
“Thanks, Ferguson, I’ll take it from here.”
Aubrey narrowed her eyes. She knew this detective. She would have to be vigilant, as he tended to be overzealous.
“Ms. Richardson, I’m Detective Joseph Murphy.
” He had to be in his mid-forties, the start of a dad-bod evident, a little squishy around the middle.
His receding hairline accentuated his beady green eyes.
He held out his hand and they shook. Eww.
His palm was sweaty, and she forced herself not to wipe her hand down her skirt.
She willed her racing heart to slow down. Deep breaths. “I think we’ve met before, when you testified in federal court last year.”
“Ah, yes, I remember now. That drug case.” Murphy clapped his hands and glanced over her shoulder. “This shouldn’t take long. Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure, go right ahead.”
“What were you doing out here at Judge Mullinax’s house in the middle of the day?”
Easy question, she had this. “The judge has agreed to portray the original sheriff in the Renegade Days reenactment tomorrow. He wasn’t answering my phone calls or texts, so I decided to come and check on him.”
A smile curved his lips. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”
Her blood pounded in her ears, and her hands fisted at her side. “Excuse me? What are you implying?”
“Oh, come on now, Ms. Richardson.” Detective Murphy circled her car, his gait slow and his words condescending.
“Why on earth would an attractive single woman leave her office in the middle of the day if not to, well, you know…” He let the implication hang in the air between them, like a sour smell wafting on the breeze.
“Just say it.” She tossed the terse words back at him.
He leaned in, his coffee-scented breath fanning her face. “You know very well what I’m saying. You were having an affair with the judge.”
She barked out a laugh because that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Give me a break. He’s old enough to be my grandfather.”
“Some women like older men.” Detective Murphy rocked back on his heels, a smug smile on his smarmy face.
“I know. I’ve met all the women who like this older man. I’m not one of them.” She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. I wish the judge was my grandfather. He’s the kindest, most helpful man I know.”
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing around town.”
She crossed her arms. “Do tell.”
“From what I’ve heard, you come out to his house quite a bit. You’ve been seen around town with the judge, having coffee or enjoying a meal together. I’ve even heard that you house-sit for him when he’s on vacation.”
Of course. The first responder–law enforcement gossip mill was worse than Aubrey and Liam in the office.
“All true.” She lifted her chin. “Because we’re friends.”
“Did this start off as friendship and morph into more? Because I have to ask myself why. Why would this beautiful young woman want to hang around an older man? Is it his money? His connections?”
God, I know I haven’t asked for anything in a long time, but I could use some help here.
She exhaled and counted to five. What did this have to do with a dead housekeeper?
Murphy raised his brows. “Well?”
“You’ve already made up your mind that I’m guilty of your disgusting insinuations. But I would never harm the judge. Or his housekeeper. He helped me when I first came to Renegade.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did.” His nasty comment fueled her anger, but she forced herself not to react.
Man, this guy was relentless—and he was going to twist everything she said into something sordid.
“A woman is dead, Detective.” Aubrey choked out her response, and all her good intentions failed her. She wouldn’t cry. At least, not yet. “Does this conversation have a point?”
He only smirked.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Aubrey clenched her fists at her side.
“The crime-scene unit needs to check you for gunshot residue before you leave.”
Aubrey shrugged. “Perfect. They won’t find anything.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The detective stepped away, and the tight band around Aubrey’s chest loosened. She grabbed her cell phone and called Jenna.
“Are you okay?” Jenna’s panicked tone didn’t help calm Aubrey’s jangled nerves.
“The police are here and questioning me like I did something.”
“Did they find Judge Mullinax?”
“No. Just his dead housekeeper.” Aubrey pinched the bridge of her nose.
Jenna inhaled sharply. “Oh, have mercy. I’m so sorry you had to see that, Aubrey.”
“Me too.” She stifled a sob. “I-I bent down to check her pulse and she was cold.” Aubrey closed her eyes as she relived the scene. “This detective thinks Judge Mullinax and I were…ah…more than friends.” Just saying those words felt as if someone had stabbed her in the heart.
Jenna mumbled under her breath. “Oh, for pity’s sake, the man was old enough to be your grandpa. Listen, just stay put. I’m calling the Marshals office. Maybe one of the guys can come get you.”
“Thanks, Jenna.” Aubrey sniffed.
“No worries,” Jenna said. “There’s no way you should even be a suspect.”
“I know. Crazy, huh?”
“It’ll be okay.” Jenna kept Aubrey on the line while she called the Marshals office.
Aubrey leaned against her car. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she grabbed the door for balance.
It better be okay, although the detective seemed to think this was an open-and-shut case, with her as the primary suspect.
“Aubrey?” Jenna asked.
“Yeah. I’m still here.”
“I talked to Liam, and he’s bringing another marshal with him to drive your vehicle back.”
Relief washed over Aubrey, and the tightness in her chest loosened. “Thank you. And Jenna?”
“Yeah.”
“Pray for me.”
“You know I will.” Jenna began to pray, and a calmness washed over Aubrey, a feeling of security that she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“Excuse me, Ms. Richardson?” One of the crime-scene unit technicians tapped her on the shoulder, and she whirled around.
“Yes?” She muffled the phone against her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, but we need to check your hands for gunshot residue.” He pulled on a pair of gloves.
She nodded. “Hey, Jenna, let me call you back.” She disconnected the call and dropped the phone in her bag.