“Just listen.” I picked up the pen I’d used and circled Brenda Sharpe’s name three times. “There was a woman with him. A younger woman. He called her Brenda.”
“You don’t think…?”
I smiled, then grabbed another paper from the pile I’d been working on. I handed it to Korbin. On the paper was a yearbook photo of Brenda Sharpe, a student at the university. Her undergrad was history; her mentor: Jeremy Miller.
“You don’t think—?”
“I think Brenda is the woman Jeremy was and is having an affair with.” I leaned back in my office chair and laced my hands over my stomach. “And what better way to get rid of the fiancé than putting her behind bars? I’m guessing she knew Jeremy was trying to make amends with Paisley, and she didn’t like it. If Brenda caught wind of the arson reports, that’s all the motivation she needed.”
“Holy shit.” Korbin took a deep breath, trying to gather his bearings. “I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it.”
“Okay.” He straightened up, reaching automatically for the cell phone in his pocket. “I’m calling the chief.”
“And I’m calling the police,” I said. “It’s time to get this shit taken care of.”
Chapter49
Paisley
I was so tired.
That was only the tip of the iceberg; I also smelled like grime, my clothes hadn’t been changed for days, and the holding cell was slowly driving me to madness.
But I was still so tired.
I sat on my cot in the corner of the room with my knees pulled up to my chin. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the ensuing panic. Finn’s confession meant nothing if I was the only one to hear it, which meant I was still totally fucked. Whatever Korbin and Hansen had been up to the last few days, nothing seemed to be helping. My lawyer told me earlier that the case was going to trial. Tomorrow. If I was found guilty, which I had no doubt I would be, I’d be sent to prison. My sentence was still waiting to be determined.
The buzzer above the door rang, and I looked towards the hallway, not caring one way or the other who was there to see me; it didn’t matter anymore. Words of comfort only stretched so far.
“Paisley.” Hansen stepped into view with Korbin right behind him. Behind Korbin, next to a police officer, was Chief Davis, and closely behind them was my lawyer.
“Hansen. Oh, God, you’re here.” I reached through the bars to take his hands, interlacing my fingers with his. His skin felt so warm against mine that I never wanted to let go. “I’m so sorry,” I said, resting my head against the bars. “I’m sorry for making you leave.”
“Paisley, I could never,” Hansen said, squeezing my hands. “I’m sorry it took so long; we’ve been trying to figure this out.”
Before I could answer him, my lawyer stepped up next to Hansen, and the cop joined his side, fiddling with a ring of keys.
“Ms. Hill?” he said stiffly, all businesslike. “Your charges have been dropped.”
“What?” I released Hansen’s hands in shock, staring at the small crowd of people. “How? What happened?”
“Evidence was found to support your innocence,” Johnson said, nodding at me.
“Finn?” I asked. “Did he confess?”
“More or less,” Korbin said, smirking. “But your witness did. All she needed was a come to Jesus talk, and she admitted to making the whole thing up.”
“What do you mean? Who was it?”
“Does the name Brenda Sharpe mean anything to you?” Hansen asked.
“Brenda Sharpe,” I repeated, my mind swirling. “She’s one of Jeremy’s undergrads, and I think that’s who I saw in his office—” My voice trailed off, and the pieces of the puzzles seemed to finally fit. “Shedidn’t.”
“She did.”
“We nailed them, Paisley. You’re free,” said Korbin.
