“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 Iremember 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 leavinganythingout?”
“No.”
“So you’re confirming that there are two victims here, then.”
“Two?”
“The man who was just unloaded at the morgue—and you.”
