Chapter 13 Jagg
JAGG
What. The. Hell?
Did I mention my gut instincts were never wrong? I knew something was off from the get-go, but this case already had more curveballs than a urology clinic. I didn’t even know what to call Sunny Harper anymore. A suspect? A witness? A victim?
“What do you mean, you don’t know who killed the man that was dead as a doornail, lying at your feet?”
She cringed at my crass choice of words. I didn’t care. I didn’t like curve balls—or urology clinics for that matter.
“Someone else came up while my attacker and I were fighting. Tried to pull him off me. I was thrown to the ground, two shots rang out, and the next thing I know, my attacker was at my feet. Dead as a doornail as you so eloquently put it. And the other person was gone.”
I stared at her, processing this insane new information.
“You mean to tell me that there is a third person involved in this attack?”
“Yes.”
“And that person is the one who killed your attacker?”
“Yes.”
“Not you, though? To reiterate, Miss Harper, you are saying that you did not kill your attacker?”
“Yes. That’s correct.”
“But you had a gun in your hand, pointing at your attacker’s head when our witness walked up. How do you explain that?”
“I dropped the gun sometime during the fight. I picked it up after I was pushed to the ground. I kept the gun down, the aim not intended at his head—or at the old man pointing his at mine, for that matter.”
“Did the mystery person use your gun to shoot your attacker, or do you think he used his own gun?”
“There’s no way mine was used. It was on the ground next to me when I heard the shots.”
So there was also a gun missing from the scene now. I scrubbed my hands over my face. Damn, I needed a drink.
“Okay, so you’re pushed down, your attacker is shot by this mystery third person, the mystery person flees, then you grab your gun from the ground, stand up—”
“And see an old man pointing a pistol to my head, telling me that if I move, he’ll kill me.”
“Did you notice a vehicle pull up while you were being attacked?”
“No.”
“What about headlights on the trees? The sound of a truck? Anything?”
“No.”
A moment slid by while my mind raced with a dozen incoherent possibilities.
“Did you see this third person?”
“No. Nothing. I was engaged with the attacker and I remember seeing something in my peripheral. The third person, I guess. Then, I was shoved to the ground.”
“Do you know if this third person was a man or a woman?”
“No.”
“Didn’t catch the scent?”
“No… Smartass.”
My brow cocked. Good for her. I was being a dick and I respected her standing up to me. Not many people did. Especially women.
I also found it extremely sexy—in addition to everything else.
“I need to make sure I am one-thousand percent clear,” I continued. “There is someone else involved in this attack. You are saying three people. You, your attacker, and a mystery person who pulled the trigger of a gun that is not yours.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“It doesn’t align with the witness account. The man who saw you and the victim didn’t say anything about seeing a third person.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” With narrowed eyes and a twitching jaw, she pinned me to my seat with a look as cold as ice.
“I understand that blaming me for my attacker’s death is the easiest way to go, Detective.
Call it self-defense, call me a liar, and forget about the third person.
Close the case and get back to your pink sprinkle-donuts.
I get it, but I’d appreciate a little more respect than the snide remarks you consider professional. ”
“Had that bottled up, didn’t you, Miss Harper?”
“Call me Sunny. Easier on your vocabulary.”
I had to fight a smirk—and also, my rapidly growing attraction.
“Okay. Let’s recap. After a long day driving to visit a kennel in Missouri, you decided to take a jog in the park on your way home.
Stretch your legs. Midway through your jog, you noticed a man in the woods, who attacked you when you stopped running.
Mid-attack, another person came to your rescue, shot your attacker, killing him, then ran away, leaving you holding a gun over the dead body. Am I leaving anything out?”
“No.”
“So you’re confirming that there are two victims here, then.”
“Two?”
“The man who was just unloaded at the morgue—and you.”
“I’m not a victim. I defended myself.” Venom shot from her eyes. “I am not a victim.”
An instinct prickled the hair on the back of my neck. There was more to this story, I was sure of it.
“Let’s go back to your attacker,” I said, redirecting. “Did he say anything to you?”
“No.”
“Not even mutter something during the attack?”
“No.”
“Think, Sunny.”
“No. Nothing was said.”
“What about anything on him? You said you didn’t see a knife, but did he have anything else in his hands? Any kind of weapon? A stick? A gun? A cell phone? Did you notice anything at all?”
“No.”
“No, as in, he didn’t have a weapon, or you didn’t notice one?”
“I didn’t see a weapon.” For the first time, she paused, looking up in deep thought. “That’s weird, right? That he didn’t have a weapon?”
“You’re only assuming he didn’t.”
“Why wouldn’t he have used it, then?” Her eyes rounded in epiphany. “Do you think he intended to abduct me?”
“You tell me.”
Her back straightened, this new line of thinking spinning her wheels. “I don’t know…”
I sat back, contemplating my next question.
“Did you notice if your attacker had a limp?”
“A limp?”
“Yes.”
“No, not that I noticed.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you subconsciously noticed while he was running up? Or maybe he favored a right or left leg during the attack?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. Same questions for this third mystery person now. The person who threw you to the ground and killed your attacker. You’re sure you didn’t get a look at him or her?”
“I’m positive. Trust me, if I did, you’d have a sketch already.”
“Did you notice anything about the person? Clothes, hat or no hat, weapon, tattoos, skin color, hair color, anything?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Limp?”
“No.”
“Like a ghost, then.”
Her gaze leveled mine. “Yes.”
“The bare finger on your left hand suggests you’re not married, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Since when?”
“Since a long time.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Everything’s my business right now. Take some time thinking about your former lovers and let me know if you think any of them might fit this bill. Assuming there are some, of course.”
Those eyes squinted.
“Are you an only child?”
“Yes.”
“Parents?”
“My dad lives in Dallas. My mom is no longer with us.”
“I’d appreciate his contact information and the contact info for the dog breeder you visited earlier today.”
“Why? To determine if I’m telling the truth?”
“Your attack ended in a man’s death. It’s my job to gather everything I can about the incident, including the whereabouts of everyone involved.”
“Fine.”
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Thank you for toning down your smartassery.”
I pulled my card from my pocket and tossed it across the table. “If you think of anything else, give me a call. Day or night.”
She slid the card into one of the many hidden pockets in those leggings. “When do I get my gun back?”
“It’ll be awhile.” I stood. “Do you have a ride back to your car?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ll take you.” I turned and made my way to the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”