Kenzie nodded. “After I got my degree, I got a part-time job. Like before, I was always home when Lee arrived, so he mostly didn’t mind.”
“Mostly,” Ford repeated. “He didn’t like you working. Is that the reason he beat you?”
She shook her head, her dark curls sliding around her shoulders. “It wasn’t that. The times he hit me, he was drunk or had some kind of upset at work. Except for those two occasions, he usually just called me names. As soon as I’d saved enough money, I packed up, left, and filed for divorce. In the settlement I got enough to rent a place to live. My grandmother came to stay with us and after that things got better.”
“Did you kill him because you were afraid that if he got custody he might abuse your son? If so that would mitigate the circumstances of the murder. Is that want happened?”
“No. I had nothing to do with Lee’s death.”
“So you never resented the beatings your ex-husband gave you?” Ford asked.
Temple reached across the table and gently caught her arm. “You don’t have to answer that, Kenzie. I’m sure Detective Ford is smart enough to understand you’ve been past that kind of thinking for some time. You’ve been looking forward, not backward since then.”
It was true, she thought. She’d never forgiven Lee for the way he’d treated her, but she’d moved on. He was still Griff’s father. She hadn’t wanted him dead.
Ford shoved the hospital photos back into the manila folder. “Do you have a key to your ex-husband’s home, Ms. Haines?”
“No.”
“What about your son? Does he have a key?”
Kenzie moistened her lips and reminded herself it was better to tell the truth. “Lee gave Griff a key in case he ever needed it.”
“So you had access?”
She looked up. “I would never go into Lee’s house without permission.”
“There was no forced entry, Ms. Haines. No shattered windows, no broken locks. Someone just opened the door, walked right in, and shot him.”
Her temper heated. “Well, it wasn’t me.”
Reese leaned toward the detective. “There are a lot of ways of getting into a house without a key. A good set of lock picks will do the trick.”
Ford turned his hard gaze on Reese. “You’re saying you could do it?”
Ford was a friend of Chase’s. He probably knew at least a little about Reese’s past. Kenzie knew Reese was involved in Teen Challenge and several other outreach groups for troubled teens. In magazine interviews he talked about his problems as a youth—hard as it was for Kenzie to imagine. He wasn’t proud of his past, but he never denied it.
Reese kept his eyes on the detective’s face. “I could. But I didn’t.”
Nathan Temple rose from the table. “I read the report, Detective. You have no fingerprints, no DNA, no gunshot residue, and aside from the fact that the pistol was registered to Ms. Haines, no way to connect her to the murder. You’ll need a lot more than that if you expect to bring charges against her.”
Kenzie prayed the attorney was right. But aside from her amazing son, since the day she’d met Lee, he had never brought her anything but grief.
The detective rose from the table. “We may have more questions. In the meantime, don’t leave town.” He flicked a glance at Reese. “That applies to both of you.”
EIGHTEEN
It was getting dark outside, the evening slipping away. Arthur Haines sat in the study of his Turtle Creek home, elbows on his polished mahogany desk, his head tipped forward into his hands.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Troy Graves sat across from him in a high-backed rose velvet wingback chair, a leg crossed over his knee. The only son of Arthur’s late partner, William Graves, Troy had inherited his father’s half of the company, making him co-owner of Black Sand Oil and Gas.
Arthur straightened. “I appreciate your condolences, but you didn’t come here tonight to talk about my son’s murder.”
“No, I didn’t. Though I sincerely regret the pain Lee’s death has caused you.”
The kid had no idea. Lee was dead because of him. Because of the mistakes Arthur had made. Mistakes he desperately needed to remedy before someone else got killed.
Troy’s hand slid over the straight black hair he slicked back with pomade, and Arthur bit back a laugh. Who did the kid think he was? Fucking Elvis Presley?
