Violet’s face brightened abruptly. “I’m glad you came, Em. I felt bad about the harsh words between us. This thing with Austin has been painful for us all.” Then she hugged one arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Let’s go see if that tea is ready.”
“Vi, I was wondering—”
“Oh.” Violet hesitated abruptly. “I almost forgot to tell you. I found that silly necklace.” She left Emily standing in the middle of the room to go over to the ornate jewelry chest sitting atop her dresser. “I was looking for cuff links and there it was.” She held up the gold necklace with its familiar charms. “I was sure it was lost.”
Somehow Emily kept her smile in place until they’d had the lovely tea Violet’s mother had prepared. Not the usual iced tea Southerners preferred, but hot tea with sugar and cream. Emily listened like a goodfriend should and then hugged Violet and offered again to help in any way needed.
Finally, when Emily could scarcely contain the mounting pressure a moment longer, she said her goodbyes and left. Clint waited for her just down the block.
She climbed into the truck and closed the door. Before he could ask, she told him, “She has her necklace. I saw it.”
Clint pulled away from the curb. “How is that possible? Could she have had a duplicate made?”
“Why?” Emily looked at him. “It wasn’t introduced as evidence in court. As far as we know, it wasn’t really investigated at all. The fact that it was lost was likely chalked up to the idea that it was mine or Heather’s. There was no real reason for anyone to think it might be relevant.”
The necklace was a dead end. Where did they go from here?
“Then someone else who knew Heather had to have a necklace like that.”
“No,” Emily argued. “Only the ...” She hesitated. No, that was ridiculous.
“What?” he demanded, as he slowed for the turn onto Main Street.
“Justine.” Emily turned to him. “She had one.”
The discordant wail of a police cruiser’s siren jerked Emily’s attention to the street behind them. Blue lights throbbed.
Clint checked the dash, then slowed to a stop. “I wasn’t speeding. What the hell does Ray want now?”
“It’s not Ray,” she said after studying the man behind the wheel of the car easing up behind them at the curb.
Mike Caruthers stepped out of the official vehicle and strode to the driver’s side of Clint’s truck.
“Caruthers,” Clint acknowledged.
“Step out of the vehicle, Austin.”
Fear crowded into Emily’s throat. She leaned past Clint and asked, “What’s going on, Mike?”
He ignored her and motioned for Clint to get out.
Clint climbed out of the truck, his hands already raised in compliance with the unmistakable tension the man exuded.
“You’ll be riding to City Hall with me for questioning. Your attorney will be waiting there.”
Emily wrenched her door open and rushed around the hood. “Why are you taking him to City Hall? Where’s Ray?” Time seemed to stand still as she waited for his response. Surely they hadn’t found some evidence they thought could connect Clint to Keith’s murder. She’d already told Ray that Clint had been with her. Mike stared at her, blinked as if he hadn’t understood the question.
“Are you arresting me?” Clint demanded to know when Mike remained mute.
As if he’d suddenly snapped from a trance, Mike’s head swiveled in Clint’s direction. “You have the right to remain silent—”
“Don’t even bother.” Clint backed up a step. “I’m not going any-damned-where until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
It wasn’t until then that Emily noticed the pale, blank look on the man’s face. She hadn’t really hung around Mike Caruthers that much back in school, but anyone could see that something was very, very wrong. Terror gripped her ... the kind that accompanied the threat of the unknown.
Mike reached for the handcuffs on his utility belt. “I’m taking you in for questioning related to the murder of ...” Emily held her breath.
“. . . Ray Hale.”
