“Oh, Dean…” June’s heart filled with compassion for what her friend must be going through.
“Please, I know I’m not being much help right now,” Dean told them. “But please, we need to get this mystery resolved and whoever is behind this locked up as soon as we can.”
“We know,” Holt told him, and patted his arm. “We’re getting closer.”
“Let me know if you need my help,” Dean told them. “And if you don’t mind keeping me updated?”
“We will,” Holt promised him.
Dean glanced at his wristwatch. “I’d better get back to the hospital.”
They said their goodbyes and Dean left.
“I guess that answered that question,” Holt said as they watched Dean walk to his car.
“My heart breaks for Lacey,” June said. “We really do need to get this mystery solved.”
“Agreed,” Holt said as he started toward the station, and she fell into step beside him.
For a few moments, they walked in silence, each too deep in thought to fill it. June appreciated that about Holt. Silence with him had never felt empty. It simply gave room for thought.
The police station was only a short distance away, but June barely noticed the walk. Her mind kept circling the same things over and over again. This case or cases, if the fires and accidents weren’t connected, were like hitting a brick wall as far as motive or suspect was concerned.
June glanced back to where Victoria’s car was still parked near the grocery store. Was she the one sitting at the center of all this? She’d certainly know the routines of everyone in the town as well as the ins and outs of it. But the motives were pretty slim. Jealousy over… what? It didn’t add up. June could understandif Victoria wanted June out of town because of Holt, and the woman did dislike Lucy and Lacey; she always had.
June could understand her being territorial over Tom, Victoria’s ex-husband, but Margo? Or Judy? Okay, maybe with Margo, Victoria could be hitting back because of Lucy’s renewed relationship with Tom. The two of them were high school sweethearts, set to get married, until his parents put a stop to it. Then Victoria’s parents and Tom’s parents had forced a marriage between the two of them. Could bitterness and jealousy really be the motive for all this? Then what about the bracelet? How had that come to be in the Morrisons’ possession? Who had taken the jewelry set? Was it Victoria or… She glanced at Holt.
June knew he didn’t want to think about it, as he and Tom had been boyhood friends, but they had to keep it as a possibility that Tom could have taken the set as well. But still, how did this all connect to everything that had happened recently? Nothing lined up in a way June trusted.
“I wish Judy were conscious,” Holt said suddenly as they reached the station steps. “I’ve got a feeling she knows a lot more about what’s going on here than we do.”
“Especially now that we know the one other person that may have been able to help us can’t.” June reached for the door. “Let’s hope Rad’s contact can find something concrete on Judy’s devices.”
Holt nodded once, and they went inside.
9
JUNE
The station was quieter than usual. A phone rang somewhere down the hall, and one of the deputies was bent over a report at the front desk, barely looking up as they passed. June followed Holt into his office, already reaching for her purse.
He moved ahead of her and brushed past in the doorway.
It was the slightest contact. Shoulder against shoulder. Nothing anyone else would have noticed. Still, the instant it happened, her heart gave a ridiculous little leap that made her silently curse herself.
It was absurd.
She was old enough to know better than to react to a brush of fabric and warmth like a schoolgirl whose hand had been caught at the movies.
June pulled herself together and crossed to the chair opposite his desk. She opened her purse, took out her notepad and pen, and began flipping through pages of notes. Fires. Incidents. Judy. Lucy’s truck. Teacups. Timelines. Names. Fragments thatmight matter later. She found the page she wanted and added another note about the fake truck and the bumpers.
Across from her, Holt had sat down behind the desk. When she looked up, he was sketching on his own notepad.
At first, she thought he was making a list. Then she saw the shape under his hand.
It was the bracelet. Perfectly drawn from memory. Holt had always been a great artist.
June watched him for a moment. His focus had narrowed, his brow slightly furrowed, his mouth set in that line he got when something had reached below the surface and touched old ground.
