She glanced away, took a sip of scotch, felt the alcohol slide relaxingly through her limbs. “Didn’t exactly work out the way I thought it would.”
Jonah sipped his drink. “I talked to a friend of mine this afternoon, a detective with the Dallas PD. They found your fingerprints on the gun. They expect ballistics to confirm it was the murder weapon.”
“I was expecting that. If someone were trying to set me up, they would have made sure my fingerprints were on the pistol that killed him.”
“That’s what you think? Someone set you up?”
She sighed. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea what to think. I’m hoping you’re going to help me figure it out.”
His dark gaze never wavered. “The CSIs found something interesting at the crime scene.”
He was watching, gauging her reaction. Worry made her pulse speed up. “What...what was it?”
“There were two glasses on the bar in Dean’s apartment. One had his prints on it, the other had yours. The one with your prints tested positive for Rohypnol. That’s a date-rape drug. They’re waiting for the tox screen of your blood to come back, but they’re pretty sure it’s going to show traces of Rohypnol.”
“So I was right—I was drugged. What about David?”
“No sign of it in his glass. Looks like Dean was just drunk. His blood alcohol was two and a half times the legal limit.”
She frowned. “Wait a minute. The police think I was drugged at David’s house instead of at the bar? That can’t be right. I don’t remember anything after I got into my car. I had to have been drugged at the Derby.”
“The cops have a working theory. They think you and Dean left the bar together. You drove Dean to his condo, which is only a few blocks away. The two of you went inside together. Maybe you were helping him into the house because he was so drunk.”
“And?”
“And he offered you a nightcap and you accepted. They think Dean roofied you. Once you were drugged, he managed to get you into the bedroom. You must have had your purse with you. He got you undressed, but you hadn’t completely passed out. You managed to get your gun out of your purse and you shot him. Then you passed out on the bed.”
A memory of David’s lifeless body rose in her mind and nausea rolled in her stomach. Her hand started shaking. She set the glass down on the glass-topped coffee table.
“If that’s what happened, that would mean David was trying to rape me. Wouldn’t...wouldn’t killing him be self-defense?”
“It could be. You haven’t been officially charged with anything. Your attorney might be able to make a case for self-defense and get the police to close the investigation.”
She rested her head on the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. Had David drugged her to get her in bed? She tried to wrap her head around the notion. He had never really shown that kind of interest in her. In fact, as Jonah had said, they didn’t really get along.
She started shaking her head, sat up and looked him in the eye. “I don’t believe it. I think someone murdered him. I have no idea why, but whoever did it must have had it planned ahead of time. They were waiting for the right opportunity and they found it that night. They killed David and now they’re trying to make it look like I’m the one who murdered him—but it wasn’t me.”
Jonah finished the last of his scotch. “Might be easier if you just accepted the theory and let Temple handle it. The sooner the case is dropped, the less chance something might turn up that could incriminate you.”
“Are you kidding me? No way am I taking the blame for a murder I didn’t commit.”
“You’re that sure you didn’t do it? You were drugged. You admit you don’t remember what happened.”
“David was raving drunk. He could barely get in the car, let alone manage to drug me and try to rape me. And I don’t believe for a minute I’d have had a friendly little drink with him in his condo. We didn’t even like each other. If I accept that version of the story, the real killer is going to get away with murder.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ITWASAHOT,mid-August day in Dallas. Heat radiated up off the sidewalk and the pavement was soft beneath the wheels of the cars on the street.
Jonah hadn’t slept well last night. He’d lain awake thinking of April Vale and her stubborn insistence that she was innocent of the murder of David Dean.
Still tired when he got up the next morning, he drank enough coffee to give him a badly needed jolt of energy, then started making phone calls, beginning with a call to Heath Ford for an update on the investigation.
“Anything new you can tell me?” Jonah asked.
“Nothing you’re going to want to hear, I’m afraid. To start with, there was no sign of forced entry.”
“Which means no one broke into Dean’s apartment and shot him. No surprise there.”
