Chapter 40
Wes heard the low crunch of tires against gravel.
For a second neither of them moved.
Then Wes stood and crossed toward the porch steps.
This wasn’t local traffic passing the property.
Someone had come here on purpose. Another reporter?
It was a real possibility.
He stepped off the porch and walked toward the gate. Remington fell into stride beside him without needing the command.
Halfway there, Caleb emerged from the side entrance. “You expecting company?”
“I’m not.”
“Me neither,” Caleb said.
Both men picked up speed.
By the time they reached the gate, the SUV had stopped. The doors opened, and a man and woman stepped out.
Both were in their mid-forties with a professional posture, and they wore dark jackets.
The man reached inside his coat and withdrew a badge.
“I’m Detective Ramirez.” His voice carried easily across the drive. “I’m with the Los Angeles Police Department.”
The woman beside him held up her own credentials. “And I’m Detective Nolan. We’re looking for Rowan King.”
“Why?” Caleb asked.
“We’d like to speak with her regarding the death of Thayer Holt,” Nolan said.
“Do you have a warrant?” Wes asked.
Ramirez shook his head. “No, sir. Ms. King isn’t under arrest. We just have questions for her.”
Wes glanced at the house. Rowan had slipped back inside.
Good girl.
Ramirez’s eyes darted between Caleb and Wes. Assessing. Evaluating. “I’m sorry, I know from my research that you’re Ms. King’s brother, Caleb.” He focused on Wes fully for the first time. “But I don’t think we’ve been introduced. You are . . . ?”
“Wes Bennett. Former US Marshal. Current family friend. Maybe I can answer some of your questions.”
Something flickered across the detective’s expression at the name. Recognition maybe. Former Marshal credentials had a way of surfacing.
“Nice to meet you,” Ramirez said. “However, we’d prefer to speak with Ms. King directly.”
Nolan glanced past them toward the house. “We came a long way for this conversation.”
Wes believed that.
Something told him these two already knew far more than they were saying out loud.
Wes shifted as he stared at the detectives. “You couldn’t have called before you came?”
Ramirez’s expression remained professional. “We were concerned Ms. King might leave before we had the opportunity to speak with her.”
Before anyone could respond, the front door opened behind them.
Wes turned and saw Rowan step onto the porch. Why would she come back outside now? She should have stayed out of sight.
But he knew Rowan. He knew she’d want to take responsibility for this.
“Ms. King?” Ramirez asked.
Rowan descended the porch steps, a determined look on her face that showed her mind was made up. “Yes?”
She walked toward the gate. Wes noticed that Caleb hadn’t let them inside.
He was sure that was on purpose. He would have done the same.
The detectives introduced themselves.
“We’re investigating the death of Thayer Holt,” Ramirez said. “And we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“How did you find me here?”
“Through an anonymous source,” Nolan said.
Rowan folded her arms across her chest. “Am I under arrest?”
“No,” Ramirez said.
She kept her gaze level. “But you think I know something.”
Neither detective immediately answered, which was answer enough.
Wes watched Rowan absorb everything. To her credit, she didn’t get defensive or lash out. Instead, she suddenly appeared exhausted.
“I know how this looks,” she murmured. “What exactly do you think I know?”
Ramirez studied her before answering. “We know you were present the night Mr. Holt died. Why didn’t you tell the police that?”
Rowan hesitated before finally saying, “Because I was afraid.”
Ramirez narrowed his eyes. “Afraid of what?”
Rowan’s gaze flicked toward Wes before returning to the detectives. “Of Vince Furlough.”
That name immediately got their attention.
Ramirez glanced once toward Nolan before looking back at Rowan.
Wes waited to hear what they had to say.