"It's okay to cover for the people who did it," he said, his voice low. "I'd do the exact same if I was you."
"But?" I prompted. There was very clearly a ‘but’ in there somewhere. Or a butt, as in this conversation was becoming a pain in the ass.
"But… Woody thinks you're involved. If he knows what happened, he might back off, that's all." He raised one shoulder, dropping it when he picked his donut back up.
"You think Woody would regret trying to kill me if I give him names?" I asked.
"It couldn't hurt."
I shook my head. "I don'tknowany names. I don't know anything. I don't know why you're asking me all of this. If Woody is a good person, like you say he is, he should back off anyway. I had nothing to do with killing his father."
I said that a bit too loud. A couple of people glanced at me as they walked past.
I looked away.
"I never said Woody was a good person," Leif said with a short laugh. "Woody is an asshole, but he's my friend, and I don't want to see him get himself into something he shouldn't. Besides, I like you. I want to understand."
I scratched my earlobe. Should I tell him what I knew? Would it really help to appease Woody or would he hate me just as much?
Hell for all I knew, Leif would run straight to the police, and I'd get in trouble for not being forthcoming. They might conclude I lied because I was involved more deeply than they'd uncovered.
I couldn't risk them pointing fingers at me. Not when my life finally seemed to be getting back on track.
"There isn't any more to say." I said finally. "I saw what I saw. I'm sorry if Woody doesn't believe that. I'm sorryyoudon't believe that."
I stood then and started to walk away. Stopped and realized I'd left my coffee on the bench. I walked back, picked it up, and headed off down the block.
For a while I thought he might come after me, or at least call out after me, but he didn't.
I didn’t look back. I didn't want him to see how much he'd rattled me.
I stepped around the corner and ran straight into Woody.
"Fancy meeting you here," he said with a growl.
CHAPTER 16
FORREST
"What do you mean you lost her?" I snapped into the phone.
"I mean she was annoyed with me. Got up and left. She walked around a corner. I followed her, but when I got there she was gone." Leif sounded calmer than I felt.
"Why was she annoyed with you?"
"I was asking questions about the night her husband was murdered," he said. "She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."
I rubbed a hand over the back of my head and resisted the urge to throw my phone out the window.
"You're supposed to be keeping an eye on her, not questioning her," I said. Why would he do that? I thought we had an understanding. We'd watch her, and when the time came, I'd uncover the truth.
"I was hoping she'd open up," he argued. "We seemed to be getting along."
"Yeah, and now she's gone. Have you tried calling her?"
"Yeah, I tried. There's no answer," he said.
"It's probably nothing," I reasoned. There had to be a perfectly logical explanation for what happened. One that didn'tinvolve violence. "She took a ride-share or a taxi when she was out of your sight."
