“Why were you asking about Trevor Lawson?”
“We got the autopsy report. His toxicology shows a blood alcohol level of twice the legal limit. He had also ingested secobarbital.”
“Sleeping pills?”
“Yes. His brother says Trevor didn’t take anything like that. Trevor also had a black eye and two broken fingers and a busted lip.”
“Injuries suffered in the accident?” Aaron asked.
“The coroner doesn’t think so. He estimates they happened a couple of hours before Trevor died.”
Aaron frowned. “So, he was in a fight?”
“That’s what I’d like to find out.”
“I didn’t notice any bruising on Gary Reynolds.”
“Neither did I. Or Trevor’s brother. It’s probably unrelated to Olivia’s disappearance, but they’re both connected to the camp.”
“Seems like an odd coincidence.”
“It does.” Travis moved toward the door. “Go home and get some rest. You can talk to the Reynolds’ neighbors tomorrow.”
Gary was gone by the time Aaron entered the front lobby. Willa must have arrived to pick him up. It was just as well Aaron hadn’t been there to see her. Earlier today she had made it clear how much she hated him.
He got into his car but instead of heading home he drove to the street where Willa and Gary lived. It was too late to talk to the neighbors, but he wanted to see the house. It was a small, square, wooden building on a fieldstone foundation—a miner’s cottage, dating from the turn of the twentieth century. The older part of town was full of these small homes, many of them converted to rentals. Willa’s car was in the driveway—the same blue Toyota she had owned when they were dating.
He wished he could talk to her. He wanted to explain what it was like to work a serious case, like a murder. The pressure to find the killer. How easy it was to see things one way.
Things that had looked so obvious to him back then weren’t so clear now.
This time was different. No one was going to charge Gary with anything. He wanted to reassure her of that, but she would never listen to him. Hate clouded her view of him.
As for him, he thought he could see her more clearly than ever. She was still beautiful, and passionate—about her job, her volunteer work and her family. But she would never feel that way about him again. He had made a mistake, and he would have to live with the consequences, wanting what they had once had, and could never have again.
Chapter Six
Willa was exhausted, but she had little hope of sleep. Gary had said very little after she picked him up at the sheriff’s department, but they needed to talk. She put water on to boil for tea, and took two cups from the cabinet. “Do you want something to eat?” she asked.
Gary slumped at the kitchen table. He looked as bad as she felt. Worse, maybe, pale and heavy-eyed. “No. Though if you’ve got anything stronger to go into that tea, I’ll take it.”
She looked in the cabinet until she found a bottle of rum left over from some long-ago recipe, and set it on the table beside him. “Do we need to hire a lawyer?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. We can’t afford one anyway. Not a good one.”
“I could borrow money.” She hated the thought, but she would do it for him.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“How can you say that? You know what happened last time.” Those three days when he had been in jail had been among the worst in her life.
“This wasn’t like last time.” He unscrewed the cap from the rum. “This was different.”
The kettle whistled and she poured water over the tea bags in the two mugs. “What do you mean, different?”
“This sheriff is different. I mean, he didn’t say much. He listened more than he talked.”
She set a mug in front of him. “What did they ask you?”
