Lori L. Harris - Secret Alibi

His mouth tightened. Jack had yet to take a sip of coffee, and she suspected that he’d poured it only to give the illusion that they were two people having a conversation. But that’s where the illusion started and stopped, she realized, wondering why she hadn’t sensed it earlier with Detective Fitz.

What Fitz had labeled an informal, fact-gathering interview had deteriorated into something more intense. More uncomfortable for her. Had the police found something that led them to believe Dan’s death wasn’t suicide? Did they think she was somehow involved? She almost wanted to laugh at the idea. Great. She’d gone from terrorized to paranoid in a matter of seconds.

“Was he alone when you spoke to him?”

Leaning back, Lexie folded her arms. “I don’t know. He was text messaging me.”

“Did you erase his messages?”

“No.” She dug the phone out of her purse and placed it on the table in front of her. “I usually make notes of important calls when I get home at night.”

“May I look?”

She slid the phone across to him, and then watched as he manipulated the buttons. After several moments, he turned the screen and held it up for her to see.

Anniversary surprise stop by drink.

“That was the first one,” she said.

“Wedding anniversary, I assume?”

She nodded solemnly.

He looked at the phone again, though she suspected he really didn’t need to.

“The call came in at ten-fifteen. Where were you when you received it?”

“Dinner.”

“Kinda late for dinner. Were you alone?”

“It was a business dinner. At Baldacci’s. My guests were Drs. Rafferty, Lemon and Lattimer. We were discussing a new drug, one that I rep. The reservation was for eight o’clock. We finished up a little before eleven.”

“Eleven,” he repeated. He hit a few more keys and again turned the screen so she could see it.

paprs signd last dink

“This one came in at 11:05. Were you still at the restaurant?”

She shook her head. “I had just arrived home.”

“Alone?”

The question bothered her. Perhaps because of what had happened between them two months ago, and what she sensed to be the underlying suggestion that she often spent the night with near-strangers.

“Very alone.”

If she hadn’t been watching his face closely, she wouldn’t have seen the barely perceptible tightening of his mouth and the infinitesimal narrowing of his eyes.

He nodded. “So why don’t you tell me more about these property settlement papers? Was your divorce not final?”

Again, she sensed a hidden question—had Lexie been married when they’d slept together?

“The divorce was final six months ago. However, there was a problem with the paperwork, something fairly minor that only recently came to light. Dan took advantage of it, though, and filed an appeal of the original settlement, claiming that the division of property hadn’t been equitable, and that he should retain possession of this house.”

“And you didn’t agree?”

“No. The house belonged to my grandparents and had been willed to me nearly a year before Dan and I married. Besides, he didn’t really want the house. He hated it. He just wanted to drag things out.”

“What makes you say that?”

“This wasn’t the first time he claimed to have signed the documents,” she said.

Instead of commenting, Jack punched more keys. He held up the phone.

Pick up tnight or brn them n house

“Where were you when this came in?”

“At home. I was still sitting in my car, debating what I should do.”

“Did you believe that he might actually burn the papers and the house?”

“Dan never threatened. He warned of consequences.”

“So you thought him capable?”

“Of burning the papers?” She glanced away. “Yes. I thought him capable.”

“And the house?”

She rubbed her forehead. The headache really pounded now, making it difficult to think.

“Lexie, did you think he might burn the house?”

She shoved the hair that had fallen forward off her face as she looked up, meeting his gaze. “Intentionally? No. Accidentally? Maybe. If he’d been drinking,” she admitted.

“Did he have a drinking problem?”

She fiddled with the charm bracelet again, her fingers automatically searching out and finding the smooth, heart-shaped locket. “Not as far as he was concerned.”

Once again, Jack’s eyes narrowed, but this time that wasn’t the only change. It was like watching an approaching tornado, the clear skies of a summer afternoon suddenly turning dark and lethal. Treacherous and unpredictable.

And in that moment, it hit Lexie that she wasn’t being paranoid earlier. Jack did think she might somehow be involved. Probably Detective Fitz did, too. How had she not picked up on it sooner?

Without saying a word, Jack got up and left the room briefly. When he came back, he had a cell phone encased in a plastic bag, the inside of which was smeared with blood. He wasn’t alone this time, either. A Hispanic man followed him in, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt printed with CRIME SCENE, but stopped just inside the door.

This time Jack didn’t sit down. Deep Water’s police chief held up the phone, as he had the last one.

Silently, she read the screen: Don’t drink with murderers

“Care to explain that?”

She realized that if they’d been looking for motive, she’d given them several in a matter of minutes. Her ex-husband was bullying her on a property settlement. He’d threatened to burn a house that she obviously wanted enough to fight him for. And then there was the most damning reason—the one they didn’t even know about yet.

“Lexie?” There was menace in Jack’s tone.

She lifted her eyes to his but remained mute. Should she ask to see an attorney? No one had read her her rights yet. Didn’t they have to do that? Wasn’t anything she said up until now inadmissible in court?

Jack punched more buttons, held the phone up yet again. F off

“Were you angry?”

“Irritated. And…” Lexie closed her mouth, worried that her response would be misinterpreted.

Jack placed the phone on the table in front of her, the screen still lit and the words still there. The smeared blood on the inside of the bag blurred the screen. She looked away, her gaze stumbling onto Jack’s as he watched her.

“You don’t believe Dan’s death to be a suicide?” Her voice was pitched lower than usual. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Lexie looked toward the Hispanic man, who hadn’t moved. “Do you?”

Jack’s voice came as if from a distance. “It’s up to the medical examiner to make that determination. Our job is to do a thorough investigation in the meantime. Anytime there is a questionable death, we have to approach it as if it’s a homicide.”

She didn’t believe him. Maybe they had to wait on the official word, but her gut told her they were already building a case. Against her.

“Would you be willing to submit to a gunpowder residue test? Just to help rule yourself out?”

Lexie sat there for several seconds, weighing the request. She was really and truly screwed, wasn’t she? If Dan hadn’t killed himself—if he had instead been murdered—no one would buy her innocence, would they? She had opportunity and more than enough motive. And now they would have a residual test?

She stood slowly, her gaze moving from the man who waited near the door—the reason for his presence now obvious—to the man in front of her, who stood between her and the back door.

“It would be a waste of time,” she said.

“Why’s that?”

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I spent part of my afternoon at the gun range, trying out a new pistol.”