Maybe his life was ordinary—boring, even—but considering his guest’s demeanor, there was something to be said for boring.
Sarah Newton had been here less than twenty-four hours and already she was causing havoc.
He slid the soup into the microwave and searched for a tray. He had one. He knew he did. By the time the microwave dinged, he’d found the tray and checked on his guest twice. The need to know what had gone down tonight made him hurry. If there was trouble out on Calderwood Lane, he wanted to know about it before the chief or the mayor heard the news.
Angie sat at attention, her nose raised high as the scent of gumbo filled the air. “In a minute, girl,” he promised.
Soup, tea, sugar. He needed a napkin and spoon. He grabbed both, added them to the tray, and headed back to the living room.
“This should warm you up,” he announced as he settled on the ottoman-style coffee table in front of the couch. He set the tray beside him and offered the mug to his guest. Angie stayed back. She knew better than to crowd her master or his guests when food was served. “Sorry there’s no lemon or cream.” He didn’t use them so he didn’t keep them.
Newton accepted the tea, holding it in both hands. “Thanks. This is fine.”
More patient than he’d known he could be, he let her drink and eat her fill. When the emptied dishes were back on the tray, he pushed it aside and braced his forearms on his knees. “Okay, Ms. Newton, let’s hear it.”
She’d stopped shivering and looked a little less rattled. “My car died. The battery, I think.”
He arched an eyebrow. He might not be an expert, but he knew a flat-out lie when he heard one. “Is that how you burned your hands? Trying to start your car? I thought you said you broke your fall.”
She shrugged, some of that characteristic indifference glimmering back through. “Maybe I was confused.”
Like hell. “What were you doing at the chapel?” He’d taken her there first thing today. He’d given her a mini tour of the village. He’d sat by and let her bully Karen Brighton. He wasn’t standing for anything less than the truth.
As if the full, uncut version of Sarah Newton had suddenly kicked back in, she gave him one of those quick half smiles. “I was bored. I thought I’d hang out at the scene to see if the killer showed up for an encore.”
Fury whipped through Kale. “The truth, Ms. Newton.”
She rolled her eyes. “You sound like my shrink.”
Oh, that was good news. The lady had a shrink? Why was he surprised? He didn’t repeat his demand. He let the pissed-off glower on his face speak for itself.
An impatient sigh hissed past her lips. “Fine. I had an epiphany.”
“What kind of epiphany?” Was she really going to make it this hard?
“The victim had to be restrained at the scene. So I went out there to see if my hunch about the manner of restraint was right.”
His brow furrowed with utter confusion. “What are you talking about? What hunch?”
“Her arms and legs were glued to the rock floor at the chapel.” She stared straight into his eyes. “Superglue. Krazy Glue. Something like that.”
Dread formed a lump in his gut. Anything he said from this point had to be carefully worded. This lady had a way of dredging information from thin air, it seemed. He’d been briefed on the autopsy results, so he knew all too well how Valerie had been restrained. “How can you be sure she was restrained in that manner?”
“I found blood and tissue residue.” A frown tugged at her lips. “You haven’t seen the final autopsy report? Surely that detail was mentioned.”
How could she have known that? “You couldn’t have waited until daylight? I would have gone with you.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Jesus Christ. She was going to be a pain in the ass. “So you followed your hunch. Good for you. What really happened to your car?”
She averted her gaze again. “I got turned around in the woods. Couldn’t find my way back to it.”
That sure didn’t sound like the cocky woman he knew her to be. “You could have gotten completely lost and frozen to death. This isn’t New York, Ms. Newton, there isn’t a taxi waiting at the corner of every block.”
“Believe me, there isn’t a taxi waiting at the corner of every block in New York,” she snapped. “Only in the movies.”
“I’m going to ask you once more. If you keep yanking my chain, I’m going to have to excuse myself from being your escort.”
