“Yes. You didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Esther, that’s for sure. She never forgot anyone who wronged her. Her friend, Molly, I never knew her well. I sometimes wondered if she and Esther were really so friendly because they were so different."
"In what way?"
"I doubt Molly had more than a couple of boyfriends in her whole life. I don't think she told her dad about anyone except her husband. What a little prude!"
May studied his face closely. Was Dean angry that he hadn't dated Molly? Was this something to do with revenge? But as she thought that, she also realized that out there on the shooting range she had underestimated Dean's height and build.
He was a big, strong, broad-shouldered guy. He wasn't small, and he was not a lightweight.
Plus, he was ex-military, and he had done tours. May was pretty sure that an ex-military man of his strength would not have left such hesitation marks on the victims he had killed.
At this crucial time, she was starting to doubt herself.
"Do you have an alibi for yesterday evening? Can you account for your movements then?"
"I was at home, alone. I seldom go out. Why would I? I'm not interested in the people in this town."
"Do you have any way of accounting for your movements at all, either last night, or the night before?" May asked.
Now, finally, Dean seemed to be ready to comply. He sighed.
"Yes. The night before last, my damned tenant came knocking on my door and said his sink was leaking."
"What time was that?"
"About six, I think. I had to go to his cottage and see what the problem was, and then we drove into town together to pick up some piping. We got back about seven, and I did the repairs. I'll show you the messages from him and when I paid for the equipment." He reached for his phone, opened it and scrolled through before turning it to her.
May mentally double checked her timeline. Then, she looked down at what Dean was showing her.
"You can see—he texted me, and I went and picked him up. I paid for it all on my card at 7:11 p.m."
"That's fine. Thank you. I'll need to take your phone and take copies of those messages."
That would rule him out, she decided. Given the time that Ed Blair had come home and the time of the murder, it was clear that Dean could not have committed this murder, and he was no longer a suspect.
"You're cleared," she said.
Dean looked satisfied. "I am no killer. I'm just unique. From when I was young, I knew I was different. I knew I was going to be the one who would never be like them. I knew I'd never be like most of the people here. I knew I'd be the one who didn't fit in and who would be left on the outskirts, forever."
"Well, you can decide whether to be on the outskirts or back at the shooting range, but either way, I'll walk you back to the cop car, and they can give you a ride out of here," Owen said.
He got up and led the way out of the interview. May brought up the rear, closing the door thoughtfully.
What he was saying, weirdly, confirmed his innocence in May's mind. Dean was proud of his difference. He liked being a loner. He was happy with who he was. He might have had jealousy issues when he was younger, but he seemed to have defeated them.
And she thought, with the pepper spray, and the stabbing attempts, and the fact that he was a smaller, weaker guy, or even perhaps a woman, the killer was showing them that he, or she, wasn't happy with who he, or she, was. He, or she, was deeply discontented and, possibly, jealous.
But as she thought that, an unwelcome realization hit her like a shower of ice water down the back.
There was another suspect now.
If this person was the killer, it would have been the ultimate betrayal—but May knew that even in a small, close community, that could have happened.
This was serious, and she needed to check it out as soon as she could.
Rushing after Owen, she grabbed him as soon as he'd ushered Dean into the van.
"I know who we need to speak to next. And fast," she said.
