"What—" Maya started, but Tessa shushed her, turning up the volume more.
Detective Santos was speaking again. "We understand this witness may be concerned about legal exposure. Let me address that directly. Yes, leaving a crime scene is problematic. But given the circumstances—the trauma of finding Mr. Sheridan, the fear of the situation—we're prepared to work with the prosecutor's office to ensure minimal consequences. What we care about is solving these murders."
"We're also concerned for your safety and privacy," Detective Blackhorse added. "If you witnessed something that night, if you know something about who had access to Victor's home or who might have wanted him dead, the real killer may view you as a threat. Coming forward means we can protect you. Hiding means you're vulnerable and alone."
Tessa wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the weight of those words. Vulnerable and alone. That's exactly what she'd been for three days—lying awake in this motel room, wondering if every sound was someone coming for her, if the woman who'd worn that bracelet had realized Tessa existed and decided she needed to be silenced too.
"If you're watching this," Detective Santos said, looking directly into the camera, "please call this number." A phone number appeared on the screen. "Ask for me or Detective Blackhorse specifically. We'll arrange to meet you wherever you feel safe—at the station, at a public location, anywhere you choose. You'll have my word that you'll be treated as a witness helping our investigation, not as someone in trouble."
"Victor Sheridan deserves justice," Detective Blackhorse said quietly. "And Thomas Hatathli deserves his freedom. You can help us give them both what they deserve. Please come forward."
The press conference continued with reporters asking questions, but Tessa had stopped listening. She stared at thephone number on the screen, at the two detectives who'd made a public appeal directly to her, who'd acknowledged her fear and tried to address it.
Maya sat down next to her. "Tess? That was about you, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Tessa's voice came out hoarse. "They're asking me to come in."
"Are you going to?"
Tessa thought about Victor—how kind he'd been, the respect and warmth he'd shown her over five years. She thought about him dying alone in his kitchen. She thought about how she'd called 911 because she couldn't bear to just leave him there, but then had run anyway because she'd been too scared to face the consequences of helping.
And she thought about Thomas Hatathli, a name she barely knew, a man she'd never met, sitting in jail. The two detectives hadn't specifically said Hatathli was innocent, but wasn't that the implication? Tessa hadn't gotten the impression that they believed the killer was in custody, and they were just gathering all the evidence they could. They'd sounded too urgent for that.
"Tessa?" Maya asked, prompting her.
Tessa swallowed hard and tried to articulate what she was feeling. "I think if they were lying, if they just wanted to arrest me or charge me with something, they wouldn't have done it this way. They would have just tracked me down. But instead, they made it public. They promised I wouldn't be treated as a suspect. I think they actually care about getting this right, and I think they believe the man in custody isn't the person who killed Victor."
Maya squeezed her hand. "So what do you want to do?"
Tessa looked at the television, where the press conference had ended and the news anchors were now discussing it. One of them was saying something about "unusual tactics" and"desperate police work," but another was defending it, saying it showed compassion and smart strategy.
"I want to stop hiding," Tessa said. "I'm so tired, Maya. I'm tired of being scared, tired of looking over my shoulder, tired of feeling like I abandoned Victor when he needed someone to speak for him." She stood up, her decision solidifying as she moved. "And I don't want an innocent person to go to prison because I was too scared to tell the truth."
"Are you sure? Because once you do this, you can't take it back. You'll be part of this investigation, your name will probably come out eventually—"
"I know. But that detective was right about one thing—I'm more vulnerable hiding than I am cooperating." Tessa pulled out her phone, the regular one she'd kept turned off for days, and powered it on. "If the killer knows about me, she may already be looking for me. At least if I'm with the police, I'll have protection."
"She?" Maya asked.
"The one I think killed Victor." The phone powered on, immediately buzzing with days of missed calls and messages. Tessa ignored all of them and carefully dialed the number that had been displayed on the news.
"Phoenix Police Department," a woman answered.
"Hi, I..." Tessa's voice caught, and she took a breath. "This is Tessa Crane. I need to speak with Detective Maria Santos or Detective Kari Blackhorse."
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Kari was reviewing crime scene photos at Maria's desk when the call came through. Maria's face transformed from focused concentration to barely contained excitement as she answered.
"This is Detective Santos." A pause, then her eyes widened. "Ms. Crane. Yes, we do. Thank you for calling. Thank you for reaching out."
Kari stood immediately, moving closer to hear Maria's side of the conversation.
"I'm sorry I ran. I was scared, and I made a bad decision," the voice on the other end was saying, faint but audible. "But I can't risk letting an innocent man go to prison. And I think I might know something that could help."
Maria arranged for Tessa to come to the station, gave her assurances about safety and treatment, then ended the call and looked at Kari with barely suppressed triumph.
"She's coming in, and she thinks she knows something."
