Chapter Sixteen
Limestone Correctional Facility
Nick Davis Road
Chance wasn’t surprised in the least that Alfred Mannington, the agency attorney assigned to Rory’s case, had come through quickly. Chance had made the call as they left the cemetery, and before two o’clock, they’d had approval for a visit to Rick Hill at the prison.
Chance had also taken Rory to a floral shop and then back to the cemetery. From there they had driven straight to the prison.
They’d been brought to a private visitation room. Rory looked nervous, but Chance felt she was holding up as well as could be expected under the circumstances. She had been through a lot.
The fire and subsequent destruction at her aunt’s home had been a painful blow.
He wished he could have stopped the progress of the flames without the necessary water damage caused by the fire department.
But there had been no choice. Added to that, the confirmation that Detective Fowler for some reason refused to even consider the other two cases as being connected to Rory’s was infuriating. Made for a bad day.
Chance would not stop until he found the connection or the person who had murdered Pete Harris.
The idea that the lowlife they were about to interview was possibly the man who had assaulted Rory twisted in his gut.
On the long drive here, he had mentally prepared himself for the necessity of sitting across a table from her attacker without reaching for this throat.
Not exactly the sort of thing that helped get answers for their questions.
“You think he’ll tell us anything?”
Rory’s question tugged Chance back to the moment. “We can hope. He received a life sentence without the possibility of parole. It’s not like he has a whole lot to lose.”
Then again, Alabama was one of the states that still had the death penalty.
The door opened. Rory stiffened, her tension escalating. Chance wished there was more he could say to relieve that tension, but that would be impossible. If this man was the one…
He blocked the thought. Needed to focus.
Rick Hill was forty. He’d celebrated his recent birthday behind bars.
This wasn’t his first time behind bars. He had a lengthy rap sheet.
Mostly low-level brushes with the law, but he’d screwed up royally that last time.
The last two times, in fact. First by leaving his DNA at a crime scene and then by getting caught in the transmission of a crime.
The guards ushered Hill to the chair on the other side of the table. His wrists and ankles were shackled. One of the guards fastened the shackles to the hook latch bolted to the floor.
“Let us know when the interview is over,” the taller of the two guards said just before they exited the room.
Chance’s attention settled on the prisoner then. Hill’s hair was buzzed short. The gray eyes that Alita Whitmore had mentioned shifted from Chance to Rory.
Fury tightened Chance’s lips, but he forced himself to relax. What he needed from this bastard—all he needed—was the name of his partner. The one who likely murdered Pete Harris.
“Mr. Hill,” Chance said, drawing the man’s attention back to him.
“That’s me,” Hill said as if Chance had asked a question.
“You and a partner,” Chance began, “broke into the home of Alita Whitmore and Carla Allston on December 20, year before last.”
He made a rude sound and rolled his eyes. “What of it?”
“The two of you drugged your victims and took a number of items from their home.”
“Look.” He set his gaze on Chance, a smirk on his face. “If you’re here to ask about those gold coins, I got no clue what he did with them. He gave me cash for my share, and that’s all I can tell you.”
“What the two of you did with the items you stole is irrelevant to me, Mr. Hill.”
Another roll of his eyes. “Irrelevant,” he mocked in a squeaky voice.
“Did you kill my husband?” Rory demanded abruptly.
Dead silence lingered for about five seconds. Chance waited, watched the man’s reaction.
His gaze swung to Rory, and he stared.
Chance fought the urge to rail at him or punch the hell out of him.
“Why would I kill your husband? I don’t even know you.” He made a face and looked away, stared at the wall as if something interesting was there that only he could see.
“Pete Harris was my husband. You and your partner came into White Cottage on our wedding night and murdered him and raped me. So don’t pretend you don’t know him or me.”
He turned his face back to Rory. Another smirk appeared. “I think I would remember if I had ever been inside you.”
Chance leaned forward, the urge to act pulsating in his veins. “You should watch your mouth.”
Hill laughed. “What you gonna do? Beat me up?” He shook his head. “Get over yourself, hotshot. Besides, she started it.”
Beneath the table, Rory rested a hand on Chance’s thigh.
Chance drew back, regained some semblance of control—at least with his anger. Her touch had him feeling other things he shouldn’t. “Just answer the lady’s question, Hill.”
The scumbag exhaled an exaggerated breath. “I ain’t never set out to kill no one.” He looked directly at Rory then. “And I didn’t touch you.”
His non-answer to the murder of Pete Harris was not lost on Chance. “Why did you let your partner screw you over?”
“What makes you think I did?” the man in prison garb countered.
“Because you’re the one sitting here,” Chance fired back.
“What can I say?” He shrugged, the jumpsuit baggy on his shoulders. “I screwed up. Advice from the wise, pal. Never remove a condom too soon. Stupid mistake.”
“Then your partner,” Rory said, her voice shaking a little, “the one you’re protecting, killed my husband.”
A grin spread across his face. “No, he was a little busy…if you know what I mean.”
Chance stilled. Now they were getting somewhere. The cocky bastard had just allowed something to slip. It might not be actual evidence, but it was enough for Chance to understand they were going in the right direction.
To Rory’s credit, she held her ground. Didn’t draw away or show any fear. “Then you’re the one who killed my husband.”
Shock appeared on the scumbag’s face as if he’d just realized what he’d done. “You’re crazy.” He looked to Chance. “You should take her home. She needs her meds.”
“She’s right,” Chance reiterated. “If you weren’t the one who attacked her, then you were with her husband, which makes you his killer.”
Hill scoffed. “I wasn’t even there. That was somebody else’s job. Not ours. Or—” he cocked his head and stared at Rory “—you killed him. After all, y’all had just got married. Didn’t the rich boy have insurance?”
That was the thing. The insurance didn’t matter. If the beneficiary was convicted of murdering the insured, the payoff went to the next legal beneficiary. In this case, the parents.
“What did you do with his Rolex and wedding ring?” Chance tossed out.
“What the hell you talking about?” Hill snarled. “That bastard wasn’t wearing a Rolex, and the wedding band was just plain old…” He snapped his mouth shut.
Chance smiled. Gotcha. This guy really was stupid. Not to mention gullible.
“It was you,” Rory said, the words barely a whisper of breath.
“I’m done here,” Hill shouted, rattling his shackles.
“We know what you did,” Chance warned as he leaned closer. “But we’re not here for you. We want the other guy.”
He’d fallen for a trick once. Chance could only hope he’d fall for this one as well.
Hill glared at him for a long moment. “You can’t touch him,” he hissed, low as if he feared the walls could hear.
“No one,” Chance argued, “is untouchable.”
The bastard laughed then, long and loud with his head thrown back.
Chance and Rory shared another look. The hurt in hers almost undid him. Made him want to leap across the table and tear this lowlife apart.
Finally, Hill rested his gaze back on Chance. He leaned forward and whispered, “He’s untouchable, man. Protected. Trust me on that one.”
Chance narrowed his gaze, scrutinized the other man’s face. Every instinct said he was very likely telling the truth. “I thought you were the one,” he whispered. “The one who liked having that extra bit of fun.”
Hill sneered and leaned closer. “Since I know you or they—” he glanced at the camera on the wall “—can’t record this or use it if they do, I will tell you this much.
Fact is, he wouldn’t let me have her,” he whispered and glanced at Rory, waggled his eyebrows.
“He wanted her for himself.” He shifted his sleazy gaze back on Chance.
“And I got stuck with the rich boy. I guess I got a little excited watching him beg us not to hurt her.” He leaned closer still.
“He. Just. Wouldn’t. Shut. Up. The Taser didn’t even shut him up. ”
Rory shot up from her chair and rushed away from the table. She banged on the door. Shouted for the guard.
Hill grinned. “I sure wish I had gotten that one.”
Chance barely restrained the urge to beat his stinking face to a pulp. Instead, he stood, leaned over the table. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be sure to tell your partner how you outed him.”
Hill’s grin slipped. “I didn’t tell you nothing.”
Chance was the one who laughed then. “Actually, you did. I know exactly who you’re talking about.”
As the guard opened the door and they exited, Hill shouted profanities, ending with a warning.
“Go ahead, tell him whatever you want…but all you’ll get is dead.”