Chapter 52
Emily just wanted to get out of this damned hospital.
“You’re sure it’s okay to leave?”
She was just about to lose her patience with Clint. “Yes. That’s why they released me. I’m fine.”
“But you have a concussion.”
“Let’s go, Clint.” She’d had enough trouble talking the doctor out of keeping her overnight.
She had to get out of here. She and Clint were on to something and it wouldn’t wait until tomorrow.
Someone had attacked her in Troy’s garage.
She wasn’t ready to believe it was Troy, but she had to face the fact that he might have been involved.
Clint kept his arm around her waist as he gently guided her to his truck, then helped her inside.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered.
“I’m fine,” she repeated. No thanks to whoever had tried to kill her. She shuddered.
Someone tried to kill me.
Clint looked at her a long moment, then closed the door.
He hurried around the hood and slid behind the wheel.
“Tell me what happened.” He started the engine and backed out of the parking slot.
“Troy called.” She hadn’t been able to talk to Clint around all the hospital staff.
“I know that part,” Clint said tightly.
“I went into the garage to try and get into the house since he didn’t answer the front door, and someone ambushed me. Drove me and my car out to Route Ten.”
Clint’s silence told her he was fuming.
“Thank God for Safe it made her head hurt.
“But he wouldn’t kill Heather for that.” She rubbed at her achy forehead, didn’t dare touch the back of her skull.
“What am I saying? He wouldn’t have killed her, period.
She was supposed to tell me some big secret that night after I got back.
Maybe she knew he was cheating. Maybe she was going to break up with him. ”
“That’s the thing,” Clint said. “This all appears to go back to someone who wanted to hurt Heather. It was never about you.”
“Maybe the other woman,” Emily suggested, since that was the only remaining loose end she could think of at the moment. “Since Keith is dead, I guess we won’t be able to find out who he was cheating with unless Troy knows and just isn’t saying.”
Another memory crashed into her bruised brain.
“Wait. Marv . . .” She looked up at Clint.
“Heather secretly dated Marvin Cook a few times just to make Keith jealous . . .” The air in her lungs escaped on the heels of her next thought.
“Marv and Keith fought over her that one time. No, twice. They even stopped talking for a while, but then Heather . . .”
Was murdered. Marvin and Keith became friends again.
“Marvin Cook had a thing with Heather Baker even after she started dating Turner?”
Emily made a maybe-maybe-not gesture with her hands. “Not a thing. Heather used him to make Keith jealous.” She hated to speak ill of her friend, but it was the truth. “We all did stuff like that back in high school. We were stupid kids.”
“Then I say we see what Cook knows.”
10:40 p.m.
Emily let her mind rest the fifteen minutes it took to reach Marv’s place.
She didn’t want to form any opinions until after she’d heard what he had to say, if anything.
She was certain he couldn’t have killed Heather any more than Keith could have.
But Clint was right. An open mind, objectivity, was imperative.
Clint shut his headlights off before pulling into the driveway. The double-wide trailer stood on a corner lot at the edge of the farm belonging to Marvin’s daddy.
“You stay in the truck.” Clint shut off the engine.
“No way.” When he would have protested, she pointed out something he obviously hadn’t considered. “He might actually talk to me, but we both know he’s not going to talk to you. And personally, I’d like to get this done without sending anyone to the ER.”
Clint didn’t argue.
The temperature had dropped just barely enough to make it bearable outside without the aid of air-conditioning, but it was still muggy. Good thing, since Clint’s old truck had none, except for the windows.
He insisted on going up the steps to the deck first. She knew he wanted to protect her, and on some level she appreciated it. Right now, though, she just wanted to get some answers.
He banged on the door. Emily flinched, hoped Marv’s wife wouldn’t make a big fuss. What sounded like a TV game show was the only sound inside.
“Who the hell is it?” Marv bellowed through the door. Emily put her hand on Clint’s arm to restrain his response. “Marv, it’s me. I need your help.”
Clint ushered her back a step when the outside light came on and the doorknob turned. Good thing, too, because the door flew open and banged against the exterior wall.
Marvin’s gaze narrowed when it landed on Clint. “What the hell do you want?” Dressed in nothing but boxers and with a beer in his hand, he glared at Emily. “Are you crazy, showing up here with him, Em?”
Emily refused to let Cook make her feel like the traitor he wanted to label her as. She had the truth on her side. As far as the crazy part went, yeah, maybe at one time she had been crazy. But right now she was thinking clearly for the first time in a very long time.
“We need to talk, Cook,” Clint said. “We can do it the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”
Marvin pointed a finger at him. “I have to look at your damn face every day because Higgins is a fool, but I don’t have to talk to you now. Get off my property!” He directed that same rage at Emily. “And you, you’re—”
“Careful,” Clint warned, his voice low and lethal.
A twinge of uneasiness rippled through Emily. Maybe coming here had been a bad idea. But Heather was dead. Keith and Ray were dead. There were no bad ideas when it came to attempting to solve their murders, just desperate ones.
“A witness has come forward to confirm Clint’s alibi,” Emily spoke up. It was past time people knew the truth. “Clint didn’t kill Heather, Marv. We sent the wrong man to prison.”
His eyes tapered into scornful slits. “You said he did it. You were there!”