“Is that a date rape drug?” Valerie whispered.
Millie swallowed rapidly as if trying to keep from vomiting. “Yes, but I wasn’t raped. We didn’t even have sex.”
“Oh, good.” Relief filled Valerie’s face. “I was worried about that.”
“Nope. I just awoke in a pool of blood next to his dead body,” Millie said.
Verna gagged. “Who would want to set you up for murder?”
“Or who would want to murder Clay?” Valerie interjected. “A lot of people hated that guy. Maybe your involvement is just a terrible coincidence.”
Scott had been thinking the same thing, but he wasn’t willing to accept any one theory right now. “Verna? Buck said you used to work at the bar. Did you ever see Clay there?”
“Sure,” Verna said. “It’s the best bar in town. Any time Clay comes home, he and his brothers usually hang out there.”
“Have you seen him with other women? Maybe leave with any?” Scott asked.
Verna tapped a finger against her lips. “Um, sure. He picked up women once in a while.” She cut a look at her sister. “I think he expressed interest in June, right?”
Millie gasped. “June?”
“Yeah, but he chased anything in a skirt,” Valerie interjected. “He caught more than a few, I bet. I’ll ask around about that.”
“Thanks,” Millie said.
As the women began to chat about the town and the townspeople, Scott snapped his fingers at Roscoe. “Come on, Ros. Let’s go outside and let you run.”
Roscoe immediately jumped up and lumbered toward him. With that, Scott winked at Millie and strode out into the chilly March air, not any closer to answers than he had been before. The arrival of the kill squad had awakened something in him, something primal and dangerous, and whoever had sent them after Millie would pay.
Maybe he’d only been playing at being a lawyer. Perhaps he’d always be a killer.
If that kept Millie safe, then so be it.
Chapter Thirteen
Midafternoon, Scott slammed the SUV’s door and loped into the police station.
The chief stood behind the counter this time. “Hey.”
“Hey. You have the Baker brothers?”
“I do,” the chief said. “Surprisingly, they’re more than happy to have you sit in on the interview.”
Scott frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means they’re not worried about shit,” the chief said.
“Did you wait for me?” Scott asked, walking around the counter without being asked.
The chief snorted. “No. They’re getting settled in there with coffee, and for some reason, Lonnie needed a candy bar.” The chief rolled his eyes. “He’s such a tight-ass, he should’ve asked for whiskey.”
“I really appreciate this.” It came as a surprise, considering Scott had killed three men that morning, but all evidence pointed to his actions being self-defense or defense of Millie, and apparently the chief didn’t mess around. Scott liked that in a person. He really liked that in a chief of police.
“You bet. It’d be really helpful if you could tell folks to stop calling in with alibis for Millie. It’s creating a backlog for me,” the chief said, reaching for a mug of what looked like milk with a touch of coffee. “You want anything?”
Not if it was all cream and no coffee. “No, I’m good.”
“You’re missing out.” The chief paused. “I need to tell you that a guy named Werner Dearth called this morning, saying he had evidence against Millie and that she could easily kill somebody.”
