Ian said nothing.
"Did you rape and murder Sarah Sweet?”
Ian’s wife looked out the window as he marched across the lawn.
Camera crews haunted him.
Ian made it to the front door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.
Paris moved in front of the lens. "A shocking confession by Wesley Oliver. You just saw a visibly distraught Ian Harrison avoid all questions. Implicated in the death of Sarah Sweet along with Holden Ellington, Darrell York may finally get the vindication he deserves. I’m Paris Delaney, and you heard it from me first.”
JD and I watched with glee as the pressure kept building. With any luck, these guys would crack.
We looked over the menu, then ordered dinner. Jack went with the lobster tail, and so did I. We chowed down and filled our bellies, washing it all down with Wild Fury whiskey.
It was about 30 minutes later when a breaking news segment cut to Paris as Ian stepped onto his porch. The cameras rushed in. Microphones drew near. He read from a prepared statement, denouncing Wesley’s confession as that of a drug-addled mind. He went on to maintain his innocence.
The reporters shouted questions when he finished, but Ian didn’t stick around. He stepped back inside. His statement only fueled further speculation.
Isabella had been monitoring Ian’s and Holden’s calls. It wouldn’t be admissible, but it gave added insight. She texted me an audio file of a call between the two.[You’re going to want to hear this.]
I played the recording, and Jack listened.
“What the fuck, man?” Holden barked, panic in his voice.
“Just relax,” Ian said. “I’m working on this.”
“Relax? How am I supposed to relax? Wes fucked us. He totally fucked us.”
“I told you, I’m handling it.”
“They’re gonna test that DNA. It’s going to come back to us.”
“First, they need to get a warrant to compel samples. And even if they do. They’re not going to be able to match the DNA. I’ve taken care of that.”
“How?”
“Don’t ask questions. It’s better if you don’t know. Let’s just say someone owes me a favor.”
“You’re solid on this?”
“Yes. Just keep your mouth shut and deny till death.”
Holden breathed a relieved breath. “I’m counting on you, man.”
“When have I ever let you down?”
“Keep me posted,” Holden said.
The recording ended, and I dialed the sheriff.
"We've got a problem," I said, then updated him on the situation. “I don’t think that evidence is secure.”
The sheriff groaned. "I'll call you back. I'm going to check on this right now.”
Daniels ended the call, and we waited at the bar, nerves bristling with anticipation. This whole case could go up in smoke if somebody got to that evidence.
About ten minutes later, the sheriff called me back. "That evidence was picked up less than an hour ago by a sworn civilian courier to take it to the crime lab for a rush job. He had all the proper paperwork. Guy’s name is Zach Slater.”
