Sharee Stover - Silent Night Suspect

“We’ll figure this out.”

His calm manner should have been comforting. Instead, it irked her. Did he not comprehend the problem? The danger she faced? Or did he not care?

“If they’re searching for me, they’ll find me. Why was I there with that—that—criminal?” Asia spit the last word, then continued, “How did they know I was there? Where have I been? How did I get there?” Frustration made her ramble, leaving no opening for Slade to respond. “What is going on?”

The walls of the ambulance closed in, reminding Asia she was a prisoner with the ever-watchful Slade. He’d never let her out of his sight, yet the sudden urge to jump up and thrust open the doors tempted her. Common sense revealed the impossibility of the option—it was something out of an action movie, not real-life drama.

Her heart rate quickened, and the EMT shifted his gaze to the monitor. “Ma’am, please calm down.”

Asia worried her lip. I have done nothing wrong. True enough, but the truth had paled when the other officers arrived, and the terror of her reality hit again. And of course, Sergeant Oliver and Slade’s brother Trey would be the responding troopers. It would’ve been easier to deal with two strangers than a reunion of her deceased husband’s coworkers. Not that they’d hung out and been friends. An unexpected wave of sadness washed over her. She’d lost so much with Zander’s death. Even the identity of being part of the patrol family. They wouldn’t be amicable once they arrested her for murder.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Slade repeated, though it held no promise for her freedom. The wretched ringing of his cell phone interrupted the conversation.

Asia watched his expression as he answered the call. The crease in his forehead said the news wasn’t good. He disconnected and met her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Her pulse quickened as each silent second ticked by.

“Let’s talk later.”

Common sense said to keep quiet; this wasn’t the time or place. Asia ignored her instinct and blurted, “No. Tell me now.”

“Later.”

His brush-off bothered her. She had the right to be informed of every detail of her case. “Slade, I can take whatever you have to say.”

He sighed, and Asia jerked to look at the EMT, who avoided her gaze. Slade leaned closer and spoke in a barely audible volume. “Magnum found cocaine in your purse.”

She gripped the stretcher’s rails to keep from jumping up. “No! That’s not possible. I don’t... It wasn’t my purse, then!”

“The investigators also discovered your wallet and phone inside.”

“Whatever they think they found, it wasn’t mine.”

Slade shook his head. Disbelief? Preoccupation? “There’s more. The CSIs identified the gun at the scene.”

She swallowed, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “That was fast.”

“The state patrol emblem was inscribed on the side with a badge number.”

Asia held her breath, dreading the next words.

“It was Zander’s service weapon.”

No. “But the investigators took all of his equipment after...” Asia paused midargument. Why would she have his gun? Zander always kept it in his possession, and he hadn’t lived with her for over a year. The department collected all his issued items. She’d refused to go to his apartment, but they’d told her everything had been cleaned out. Why hadn’t she confirmed?

“Zander’s weapon went missing before his murder,” Slade clarified.

Asia’s shoulders tightened. “You can’t seriously believe I killed Nevil Quenten using Zander’s gun? Or that I was running drugs? Slade, come on.”

He seemed to age before her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Asia gritted her teeth. What didn’t he know? Whether I’m a murderer? Whether I’m lying now? The three words plagued her from every angle. She didn’t know how she’d gotten here, and her only ally didn’t know if he believed her. Wretched irony.

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