Brooke stood rooted to the spot, her hand still covering her mouth as her mind struggled to understand what just happened. One minute, she’d been agreeing to go on a date with Tyler. The next, he was being led out in handcuffs, accused of murder.
Sheila Jones. The name echoed in her head. She knew Sheila. Everyone in Irma knew Sheila. Sweet, chatty Sheila, who worked at Basin Federal and always had a smile for anyone who came through the door.
Dead. Found in a bear cache in the mountains.
And Tyler was accused of killing her. Her stomach turned, and her knees became wobbly.
“Brooke?” Becky appeared at her elbow, concern evident on her face. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” Brooke’s voice sounded strange to her own ears, distant and disconnected.
Becky took her arm and led her to the chair she’d been sitting in only minutes earlier—when she’d been smiling and happy and excited about going on a date with Tyler.
Around them, the coffee shop had erupted into conversation and speculation. Some customers were gathering their things, clearly uncomfortable with the drama. Others had pulled out their phones, probably texting the news or even posting on social media. A few remained seated, leaning toward their companions with excited whispers, treating the whole thing like entertainment.
Outside, people were gathered on the sidewalk. Customers from other businesses had come out to watch the patrol cars pull away. Not just customers, but shop owners and their employees too. Brooke dropped her gaze.
This would be all over Irma within the hour. Maybe less.
Her coffee shop—her pride, her life’s work—had just become the scene of a very public arrest.
The bell chimed again, and Deputy Boverman walked back in. He surveyed the shop with a professional eye, taking in the gawkers and gossipers.
“All right, folks,” he said, his voice carrying authority. “Show’s over. Either order something or head on your way.”
A few people looked affronted, but Adam’s firm expression got them moving.
“You need anything?” Becky whispered.
Brooke waved her away.
Within minutes, half the customers had left, mumbling among themselves as they exited. The remaining patrons at least pretended to return to their coffee and laptops, though Brooke could see them sneaking glances in her direction.
Adam approached her table. “Mind if I sit?”
Brooke gestured to the chair Tyler had just vacated.
“I know that was difficult to witness,” Adam said, his tone gentle. “But I wanted to make sure you understood what was happening. What we found.”
“You said Sheila Jones. She was the one on the mountain?”
“You knew her, right?”
“I do my banking at Basin Federal.” Tears stung Brooke’s eyes. She hadn’t seen the face of the body. She was glad of that now. If she’d seen Sheila dead...her stomach tightened again. For a moment, she thought she might be sick. “You’re sure?”
“We’re sure. She was reported missing on Monday morning. We thought it might be her, but we needed to make a positive identification. That took time.”
What did that mean? Everyone knew Sheila. They could’ve asked just about anyone to identify her. Unless...
Brooke wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the heat of the shop. “And you think Tyler killed her?”
“We have strong evidence pointing in that direction.” Adam leaned forward, his expression serious. “Did you know Sheila and Tyler dated?”
“Since he’s been back?”
He shook his head. “In high school.”
Brooke snorted out a laugh. “You can’t be serious. Everyone dated everyone in high school. That’s what happens when your graduating class is barely a hundred people. We all knew each other.”
