Chapter15
The morning sun appeared as weak as Mia’s legs felt. After staring at her ceiling for a couple of hours, she’d finally meandered into the shower. Both Gena and Dotty were still asleep, and the quiet in the cabin’s kitchen balmed her frazzled nerves. Hot coffee burned down her throat as she stared out the kitchen window.
A black truck rolled to a stop on the gravel drive. Apparently Seth had multiple vehicles. She’d expected the Jeep. Seth stretched out, his long legs encased in faded jeans over battered cowboy boots.
Wow. She’d always had a thing for men in cowboy boots. Her cell phone buzzed, and she pressed it to her ear, keeping her gaze on the man loping toward the cabin. “Yes?”
“It’s Pete. I have news.”
She stood up straighter. “Well?”
“A limo driver and three security cameras have Seth and his father arriving at the ball last night at nine in full monkey suits. There’s no way one of them could’ve killed Mandy, changed into their tux, and driven to Seattle in an hour. It’s a two-hour drive, even speeding.”
Relief that she should probably examine later washed through her. “One of them could’ve flown, changed into a tux, and had a limo show up at the airport.”
“Yes, except the security cam at the old folks’ home right outside of town caught them leaving Lost Lake at seven. Windows down, drinking what looked like scotch.”
Yeah, that was a pretty good alibi—and a darn good camera. “What about Erik?”
Pete exhaled. “Well, now, that’s another story. He wasn’t with them.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Not yet. Erik has his pilot’s license just like Seth and Ben do, and they have more than one corporate plane.”
Seth disappeared around the side of the cabin.
“I’ll see what I can find out. I’m headed over to the Fulsome’s before taking a tour of the mine,” Mia said.
A quiet knock sounded on the door.
Pete cleared his throat. “The Fulsomes are pretty torn up, of course. Though I told them to expect you today. Who’s giving you the tour?”
“Seth Volk.” Mia hustled to open the door, grabbing her bag on the way.
“Be careful, Mia,” Pete muttered. “Just because he didn’t kill Mandy doesn’t mean he didn’t murder Ruby. The Volk men could be working together.”
She smiled at Seth. “I’m fully aware of that.” Every instinct she possessed told her that Seth wasn’t the killer. Erik was another story, however. “Bye, Pete.” She ended the call and looked up—way up—into a face Lady Luck had spent some serious time sculpting. “Morning.”
“Morning.” Deep and low, Seth’s quiet response hinted at an intimacy that was a bad idea. “Pete? What did the sheriff want so early in the morning?”
Mia gestured outside. “Pete confirmed your alibi for last night. Apparently, you didn’t kill Mandy.”
“That’s a relief,” Seth said dryly. He pulled the door closed behind them and took her elbow as they maneuvered around the cabin. “I like your FBI look.”
She stumbled and glanced down. Pressed jeans, white shirt, and navy blazer. Hmm. It was her standard FBI uniform. Some habits died hard. “Uh, thanks.” The hand at her elbow held strength and assurance. They reached the truck.
Seth opened the door. “Ralph Fulsome is a big guy, and he’s devastated. I’ll let you talk to him but stay by me.”
No, this wasn’t how investigations worked. Mia took a deep breath. “We need to get a couple of things straight.”
Seth rested his arm along the top of the door, his dark T-shirt stretching tightly across his broad chest. He cocked his head to the side. “Like what?”
“I have a gun at my waist and one in my ankle holster. I’m an excellent shot.”
Puzzlement filtered through his frown. “Okay.”
“I’m the cop. You’re the civilian. If there’s a situation, you get out of the way and let me handle it,” she said.
