32. Colton
“Appreciate you coming into town, Colt.”
I shake hands with Terry and take a seat.
While he’s recording the conversation, that we’re one-on-one tells me he’s keeping this informal.
Wise man.
“Also appreciate you not lawyering up.”
“I have nothing to hide. Whatever you need, I’ll help with.” I shove a paper bag at him. “These are the letters Lydia Armstrong sent me.”
“Let the record show that Colton Korhonen has passed me a paper bag with…” He pauses to count them. “…twelve letters. When did this start, Colt?”
“That’s not all of them. The first ones I received I thought were a joke so I tossed them out. Looking back, I think it’s when Lydia first learned she’d have to move. So, last November?”
Terry scans the letters, his brows lifting higher the more he reads. “She got nasty.”
“Fast. That’s why I hung onto them.”
“She thinks you’re a murderer.”
“I assume she meant Marcy.”
“Earlier, you said you never dated Marcy Armstrong?”
“No. She was a lot younger than me.”
“I notice they’re handwritten.” He eyes me over the letter. “Would you be able to provide us with the footage of Lydia dropping off the letters?”
“Yes.”
I’ll have to figure out how for myself. No way I want Callan involved in this mess. I didn’t like him knowing about the letters, and this situation is only going to keep on deteriorating.
As he scans the notes, he grunts. “We have no idea what happened to Marcy. Her calling you a murderer?—”
“Look, I didn’t know Marcy. At all. You remember back then. I was in university and trying to keep Callan from falling apart after Mum left.”
Terry pulls a face. “I remember. The EMTs came?—”
“Exactly.” The word is harsh. “We managed to hush that up. Let’s not bring it to light again. But he was my priority. Not sleeping with some barely legal kid.
“I don’t mean to sound facetious, Terry, but I’m a Korhonen. What the name doesn’t pick up, the wallet does.”
“A full wallet and a handsome face don’t preclude someone from being a murderer.”
“No, but who else is missing or murdered in Pigeon Creek?”
“Why didn’t you report the letters to us?”
I shrug. “What would I have said?”
“That you were being harassed?”
“And what would you have done?”
“Not a lot, but it’d be on the record.”
“Next time, I’ll know what to do.”
“She blackmailed you.”
“She needed the cash.”
“You paid the demand?”
“After she threatened my wife? Bet your ass I did.”
“You’re not joking, are you? Wait—I heard the McAllister girl was living with you, but you’re married?”
“It’s a recent thing,” I demur.
Terry gapes at me but he reverts to the topic at hand. “If we look into her financials, we’ll find a transaction from you.” He stops the recording. “What the hell were you thinking? It looks like you paid her off!”
I lean forward. “I have nothing to hide. No skeletons in my closet. My father, on the other hand, has plenty. His is the name she was repeating when she died. Look at him, not me.”
“This is probable cause!” Terry argues, spreading the letters over the table.
The words I didn’t need to hear. “Wasn’t it a car accident?”
“It could have been premeditated. If we throw in that little contretemps with Susanne too…”
“Lydia spit in her coffee!”
“Colton, people have been killed for less! You need to get yourself a lawyer.”
I study him. “Am I under arrest?”
“No. But only by the skin of your teeth and because I know you’re not a flight risk. What the hell were you thinking?” he repeats.
“I was thinking that she was threatening my wife. And I was feeling bad.”
“About?”
“Getting her fired from The Coffee Shop,” I admit. “She was a bitch, but she didn’t deserve to be homeless.”
He sets the recording back on. “Where were you at twelve-thirty today?”
“Out on the range. East quadrant, by the Linnox place.”
“Would your new security system have picked up on your location?”
I’m going to have to discuss this with Callan. Damn. “Perhaps. I’ll check.”
“Can I come to the ranch and speak with your staff?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe someone saw you.”
“It’s a possibility. Ask Theo. He’ll tell you who was working in the same quadrant or thereabouts.”
“Do you own a beat-up red pickup truck? Could be a Japanese make. One was seen driving through town shortly after the accident.”
“I drive a late-model Chevy, Terry.” But that description rings a bell.
“Does your wife?—”
“No. She doesn’t have a vehicle, and if she did, most of our garage is stocked with Chevrolets or Fords.”
“That concludes the interview with Colton Korhonen.” The recording switches off again. “You’ve made my job a lot harder, Colton. In the future, please don’t be kind to your blackmailers.”
Calmly, because I see no need to worry, I inform him, “I didn’t do this, Terry.”
“It’s a good thing I know you and believe that,” he grumbles, getting to his feet. “If I ask you to return to the detachment, bring. A. Lawyer. Understood?”
I sigh at his about-face. “I understand.”
Once he guides me out of the small interview room, we shake hands and I take my leave, fully aware I shot myself in the foot by paying Lydia off. I don’t regret it, though. Not if it kept Zee safe from that psycho.
When my phone rings, my day gets worse.
As one of my ranch hands murmurs in my ear about finding a mysterious red pick-up truck on the Seven Cs, I know exactly what’s coming my way. Still, I have to make arrangements before I’m detained for the next twenty-four hours. All being well, I’ll be out tomorrow and they won’t have grounds to arrest me.
Zee’s busy on another call, so I loop her in with a text message. Not ideal, but I’m running out of time. Neither Mrs. Abelman nor Mum pick up either. So I drop a voicemail with them and email Theo to apprise him of my whereabouts.
That done, I call Juliette who answers immediately. “Colton?”
“The triplets’ truck mowed down Lydia Armstrong.” I keep my voice low. “Do you know where they are?”
“School. They weren’t behind the wheel, Colton.”
“I’m not suggesting they were. But it’s their truck and it was found on my land. Once the cops check the license plate, they’ll know who owns it. It’s likely the triplets will be brought in for questioning. I’m volunteering the car’s location to the RCMP so I’ll make legal arrangements for them now before I’m detained.”
Sniffing, she thanks me by declaring, “That bitch couldn’t even die in peace. Always had her nose into everything.”
Leaning against my truck, I frown at the ground. There’s something in her tone… “Did you get any letters from her recently?”
Silence hums on the line. “Perhaps. Did you?”
I scrape a hand over my jaw. “Did she ask for money?”
“Maybe.”
Fuck.
More probable cause—this time, for the triplets.
Digging my fingers into my eyes, I mutter, “Don’t say a word about that to anyone else.”
“You think I’m an idiot? Make sure my grandsons are home tonight.”
With that, she disconnects the call.
No one can say she doesn’t have a way with words.
Grunting, I call Marc Robard’s office and make arrangements for him to come to Pigeon Creek to help me out and for him to send three other attorneys for the triplets.
That done, I turn on my heel and head back into the station.
Terry’s there, hovering at the front desk as he flirts with the receptionist. When he looks up, he arches a brow. “Colton?”