Debra Webb - Physical Evidence

Mitch forced those thoughts away. “We should get started,” he announced, interrupting the hushed exchange taking place in the middle of his own office.

Ashton guided Alex to a visitor’s chair, his hand at the small of her back, the gesture clearly welcome and familiar. Mitch gritted his teeth against how that simple move made him feel. He rationalized his unwarranted emotions with the fact that she was a suspect and a witness. Her well-being was supposed to be important to him and the case.

Good one, Hayden, he chastised silently.

Ashton took the seat next to her. “You broke the rules, Hayden,” he accused, a new glare now directed at Mitch.

Mitch settled into his own chair. “I didn’t ask her a single question.”

When Ashton would have argued semantics, Alex raised a hand to stop him. “He didn’t ask, Zach,” she assured him. “I want this cleared up just as much as he does.”

“I’m not sure you’re up to this,” Ashton argued.

“I’m fine.” She sat straighter in her chair. “I just can’t remember the things I need to.”

Mitch studied her as she protested Ashton’s attempts to sway her into being reevaluated by a specialist of his choosing. She could hold her own with the guy. And that only made her more appealing.

She’d twisted her shoulder-length hair up into a youthful but conservative style, showing off that long, slender neck. The navy slacks and pale blue blouse fit a little loosely. For comfort, Mitch supposed. Alex didn’t strike him as the type who would forego comfort to show off her figure. Besides, he’d already seen enough of her to know she had a terrific body. His own body tightened at the remembered feel of hers when he’d held her.

He shut off that line of thinking and focused on the matter at hand. He had two dead deputies. And Alex Preston was somehow involved in their deaths, if by no other means than the fact that she was present at both shootings.

“Let’s start by you telling me how you got out of the hospital and to my house,” Mitch said, dragging the two from the heated discussion.

To his credit, Ashton kept his mouth shut.

Alex thought for a while before she spoke. Her expression grew solemn. “When I was sure I couldn’t help the deputy, I made my way to the door and into the corridor. I was afraid that whoever was shooting at me would try again….” She frowned. “Or may become after me.

“Once I got into the corridor I considered going to the nurse’s desk, but there wasn’t anyone there. It was like everyone had disappeared. That spooked me. I started for the elevators, but one opened and I was afraid it was the shooter, so I hid behind the closest door, which turned out to be a supply closet.”

“That’s where you got the lab coat,” Mitch guessed.

She nodded. “When the coast was clear I ran like hell. I don’t think anyone even noticed I was missing from the room until after I’d left the hospital. The shots didn’t make that much noise. I don’t know if Saylor would even have heard anything if I hadn’t bumped into the table and knocked the telephone off it.” She blinked, her eyes bright.

The shooter had used a sound suppressor, which explained why no one at the hotel seemed to have heard anything. Both items were being tested by ballistics at that very moment.

“How did you get out of town,” he prodded. That was the part that bothered him the most. She’d been barefoot and without transportation. Someone had to have given her a lift.

“The rug guy,” she explained. “He had already taken the mats at the front of the hospital lobby entrance and gone back to his van for clean ones. While he put the new ones in place I hid in the back of his van.” She shrugged. “When he made his next stop I got out. It was a nursing home outside town.”

Pinecrest, but that was still a good five miles from Mitch’s house. “You walked from there?”

She smiled dimly. “Walked, ran, stumbled. I’ve got a few blisters to prove it. Mostly I hid in the woods afraid someone would find me.”

Mitch thought about her scraped knees, then about her hovering in the bushes. “When did you get to my house?”

She chewed her lower lip, thoughtful. “Sometime after dark. The door was unlocked so I went on inside.”

“You didn’t call anyone?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t think. I was exhausted. My head hurt. I just needed to lie down. I fell asleep on the couch and then you came in.”

“And you’ve told me everything you can remember regarding what you discovered during the course of your investigation?” he pressed. He needed her to give him everything, no matter how unimportant it might seem. “You remember nothing as to why you were meeting with Miller?”

“I’m sorry, no. I don’t even remember talking to him at all. Like I said, my agency was hired to look into Marija’s disappearance and the family she was staying with, the Malloys. I still plan to pursue that investigation.”

Mitch tapped the arm of his chair considering her words for a moment. “Even after I told you what the TBI believes, you want to move forward?”

She nodded. “Her sister’s counting on me. I can’t in good conscience walk away without giving it my best shot.” She pursed those lush lips for a time. There was something about her mouth, the shape or color or maybe both, but he wanted to taste her so badly that it was an ache inside him.

“Besides,” she continued, “I’m not sure I can buy into the serial killer scenario considering Marija’s circumstances and the Malloy connection.”

A new kind of dread rising, Mitch asked, “What circumstances?” Marija had fit the serial killer’s profile perfectly. Since she hadn’t been found, that seemed the most likely scenario. Unless she just didn’t want to be found.

“Jasna may not have shared this information with the police since it was so private,” Alex began. “But two days before Marija disappeared she called her sister and admitted that she was pregnant. Jasna felt certain that the father was Mr. Malloy since Marija was so afraid he’d find out. It’s possible he discovered her pregnancy and decided he couldn’t risk the bad publicity considering the upcoming senatorial race. Not to mention his wife’s reaction.”

A chunk of ice formed in Mitch’s gut. Shock radiated through him. “That’s impossible,” he said tightly.

“Why would my client lie?” Alex countered.

“She has to be lying,” Mitch returned, his tone brittle despite his best efforts to keep it even. “Phillip Malloy is one of the finest men I know.” He leveled his gaze on hers. “And I should know, he’s my uncle.”

“So that automatically clears him of possible wrongdoing?” Ashton countered. “I don’t think so.”

Alex shot Ashton a quelling look. Mitch wanted to reach across his desk and wring the guy’s neck. “If you can’t prove that allegation, I would caution you to keep it to yourself.”

“I’m not accusing him—”

“Is that a threat, sheriff?” Ashton cut Alex off, leaning forward in his chair. “Because if it is, you’re making one hell of a big mistake.”

“Zach,” Alex warned, placing a hand on his arm.

Ashton shook off her restraining gesture and stood, glaring down at Mitch. “Make a formal charge, Hayden, or we’re out of here.”

Mitch smiled, the gesture filled with the contempt strumming through him. “If that’s what you want.”

“Zach, this is not the way to handle this.” Alex was standing now, too. She pulled him around to face her. “Let me do my job. Okay? You’re not helping,” she added when he still looked skeptical. “I have to think about what’s best for my client.”

Ashton held up his hands, stop sign fashion. “Fine.” He sent a glower in Mitch’s direction. “He can’t charge you anyway. He doesn’t have enough evidence to make a case and he knows it.”