Kathleen Long - When a Stranger Calls

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” Regina shrugged.

“What’s the hard evidence?” Tally gestured toward the folder.

Lindsey flipped through the papers until she found the crime scene report. “Large quantity of blood in the car, blood spatter consistent with that from a major artery, matching blood type found on a pair of floral shears in the shop with Alessandro’s fingerprints on it.”

“The shears could have been planted.” Patty’s serious gaze widened.

“You’ve been watching too much television,” Tally mumbled.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be questioning this at all,” Regina offered. “You have to admit the physical evidence is compelling. Don’t let the son convince you to stir this up if you don’t want to.”

Lindsey sighed. Seventy-two hours earlier her mother’s death had been nothing more than a horrible part of her past. Now it had pushed front and center in her every waking thought. Much of that had to do with Matt Alessandro, the case file he’d given her and his unflinching determination. Her stomach flip-flopped at the remembered intensity of his gaze.

Yet, truth was, the horror of her mother’s death had come back to life because of the photocopied license someone had left in her door. And the ring. The ring that had disappeared during a broad daylight attack everyone seemed to doubt.

Everyone except Matt Alessandro.

“What about the driver’s license?” She lifted her focus to her partners’ faces, deciding to leave the ring out of the discussion for now. Tally and Regina both blew out sighs and sat back against their chairs.

“Damn,” Tally muttered.

“Someone’s got information that’s not in these files.” Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut then snapped them open, straightening in her seat. “I need to find out what that is, even if the conclusion remains the same.”

“It does all seem fairly circumstantial.” Regina’s features had tightened and she nodded, meeting Lindsey’s stare head on.

“Okay.” Tally jumped to her feet, pacing a tight pattern behind Regina’s chair. “So where do we start?” She gestured into the empty air above her head. “Let’s try to forget this is your mother we’re talking about. What would we do first? What puzzle piece would we go after?”

“We’d question how thorough the searches were. If Alessandro was guilty, why was nothing found at his house? What other explanations could be given for the evidence found at the store?” Lindsey straightened. “And why give so much weight to the testimony of Lorraine Mickle?”

Regina leaned forward across the table. Tally had stopped pacing. Both stared intently at Lindsey.

“So?” Regina prodded.

“First, I’ll find Mickle and talk to her.” Lindsey sucked in a deep breath, determination edging out the doubt that had filled her moments earlier. “Then, I’ll question my uncle about how they conducted this investigation.” She looked from Tally, to Regina, to Patty, who had dropped into Tally’s vacant chair. “I’m going to find out exactly what happened to my mother.”

“I never doubted you would.”

The rich, male rumble sent the hairs at the nape of Lindsey’s neck tingling to attention. She knew the source before she turned. Sheer, unmasked appreciation glimmered in her friends’ eyes.

Matt Alessandro stood just inside the door. They’d been so engrossed in their conversation that not one of them had heard him enter. Lindsey held her breath, amazed by the impact the man had on her senses. The now familiar and unwanted edginess slid through her system at the mere sight of him.

He crossed the room, snagging a spare chair from Tally’s cubicle and positioning it between Regina and Lindsey at the small table. His gaze never left Lindsey’s. Not for a moment.

“So.” One dark brow arched. “When do we start?”

“I’M RELIEVED TO HEAR you agree with me.”

Matt stole a glance at Lindsey Tarlington’s profile and body language as she perched on the passenger seat of his SUV. She’d been as anxious to speak with Lorraine Mickle as he had been, and now she sat next to him as he drove toward Mickle’s home.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think the leather seat had given her a shock. The woman was obviously ill at ease as his passenger.

“I never said I agreed with you, Mr. Alessandro.”

“Matt.” He turned to face her.

She returned his look, her dark brows lifting, as if he’d surprised her. “Matt,” she repeated softly.

The sound of his name on her lips sent a spiral of appreciation coiling tight inside his gut. Not good. He had no time to become interested in anything about Lindsey Tarlington other than her investigative brain. From what he’d heard over the years, her intellect was her best feature.

He bit back a grin as she tugged the hem of her skirt over her shapely knees. Whoever had made the intellect observation obviously hadn’t been a red-blooded male.

Matt retrained his attention on the road, focusing on what she’d just said. “I heard you say you don’t believe the file contents are conclusive.”

“No.” She tapped a hand along the passenger door. “You heard me say I wanted to investigate further. I still believe your father killed my mother.”

He drew in a steady breath, doing his best to avoid losing his temper. “That’s insane.”

“Really?”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her watching him, scrutinizing his reaction.

“The physical evidence points to your father. The jury obviously agreed. The thing I can’t accept is the affair between your father and my mother.” She made a snapping noise with her tongue. “No way.”

He narrowed his gaze, hoping he hadn’t been wrong about Lindsey’s nose for the truth. “At least we agree on one thing. That’s a start.”

“So you don’t believe they were involved?”

Her voice had suddenly lost its edge, and Matt felt himself softening. “I never did.”

They drove the next few moments in uncomfortable silence. He broke the void first. “We need to have a goal for this visit. I’m a big believer in all parties being on the same page.”

“And what page are you on, Mr. Aless—Matt?”

“I’m on the page that thinks Mickle was a convenient witness—a convenient witness with a tidy little story your uncle never questioned.” He shot her a glance. Color fired in her cheeks. So, he’d hit a nerve. “What page are you on, Ms. Tarlington?”

The light ahead turned yellow and he slowed the truck to a stop, turning to focus fully on the woman beside him.

“Call me Lindsey.”

He nodded.

She frowned then spoke. “I’m on the page that agrees Mickle’s testimony seemed a bit convenient, and had no evidentiary proof of any kind.”

Matt widened his gaze and nodded. “Very good.” The light shifted to green, and he pressed the truck forward. “Maybe we’re not so far apart in our thinking after all.”

“What’s your goal for our visit?”

“My goal…” He mulled the question, taking his time before he answered. His goal was to have Lindsey realize reasonable doubt existed about his father’s guilt, but as far as she needed to know…? “My goal is to find the crack in Mickle’s story. Fair enough?”

Lindsey nodded. “Fair enough.”

NERVOUS ANTICIPATION FLUTTERED to life in Lindsey’s chest as Matt pulled the SUV to a stop at the entrance to a gated neighborhood. An elderly guard leaned forward through the casement window of the small guardhouse. “Name?”

“Matt Alessandro.”

“Here to see?”

“Lorraine Mickle. Forty-two Hemingway.”

“She expecting you?”

“Yes.”

Lindsey held her tongue as the gate lifted.

The guard tipped his cap. “Have a good visit.”