Jamison looked relieved to end the uncomfortable scene. “I’m sure Chief Mason will keep you informed of any developments.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jo may have been relieved of duty, but that didn’t mean she’d sit around while someone framed her for murder. She drove home fast, her mind set on how to fight back.
When she parked, she noticed Pickles under the porch rocking chair, tail flicking. “Hey, Pickles,” she said, scratching the cat’s head. “At least you’re not out to get me.”
Inside, she tossed her keys on the counter, grabbed a can of cat food, and spooned it into a dish. “Here you go, buddy.” She glanced at Finn, her goldfish, circling his bowl, oblivious. “Must be nice, Finn. No setups in your world.”
Jo set the dish on the porch for Pickles, watching as he approached. “Listen, buddy,” she murmured,settling into the rocker. “I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here. So think about coming inside so I can take you to the next place.” She ran a hand over her face, frustration simmering. “One step at a time, right?”
She stood, feeling the weight of the investigation. Inside her bedroom, the old armoire stood like a fortress, holding a mix of memories and the skeletons she’d rather leave untouched. But she needed space for a new investigation board, one focused on clearing her name. She opened the armoire, her gaze brushing over a box marked with her youngest sister’s name.
“Tammy.” Her chest tightened, but she shook it off. “Not now,” she whispered, pushing the box aside.
Instead, she started tacking notes and timelines to the inside of the doors. What had Garvin found, and who wanted her out of the way?
An hour later, Jo stepped back, staring at the bare beginnings of her board. She needed an outsider’s perspective—someone who could dig around, no questions asked. She pulled out her phone, scrolling to Mick’s number.
It rang twice before she heard his familiar, gruff voice. “Gervasi.”
“Mick, it’sJo. I need a hand.”
A pause. “I heard what happened. You holding up?”
“Not going down without a fight,” she replied. “Can you come over?”
“Twenty minutes.” Mick hung up, no more questions asked.
While she waited, Jo paced the living room, mind racing. Who had the access to frame her? Who’d gain from Garvin’s death? She had to break this open, fast.
Twenty minutes later, the rumble of Mick’s truck pulled her from her thoughts. She opened the door as he climbed out, his gaze scanning her yard with a practiced eye.
“Thanks for coming,” she said.
He nodded. “You know I’ve got your back.” His gaze was sharp, searching, as he stepped inside.
Jo led him to the bedroom, motioning to her makeshift investigation board. “It’s not much,” she said, but he was already studying it.
Mick crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “All right. Walk me through it.”
For the next hour, she recounted everything—the body, the hair tie, the DNA match. Mick listened without interrupting, occasionally jotting a quick note.
“So, whoever it is got ahold of your hair. That’spersonal.” Mick leaned against the wall, eyes narrowing. “Any ideas?”
Jo shook her head, frustration biting into her words. “None. Sure, I’ve crossed a few people, but this feels different. This feels... close.”
“What about Marnie Wilson?” Mick asked. “She’s got eyes on Garvin’s land, right? And a detective on the hook for murder would make her campaign look a lot cleaner.”
Jo frowned. “Maybe. But there’s got to be more to it. It doesn’t add up.”
“Or his kids,” Mick added. “They’d lose a payout if Garvin went through with that will change.”
Jo considered it, frustration sparking. “But I don’t know them, and they don’t know me. How would they get ahold of my hair?”
“Maybe they didn’t,” Mick said. “Could be someone working with them. Someone with access to you.” He shook his head. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Jo felt a surge of gratitude, the weight in her chest easing for the first time all day. “Thanks, Mick. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
