I reached out my hand to Hennessy. “Thanks for that.”
“Sure. Kid’s having a bad fucking day.” He reached for the door handle. “You want to walk me out, Lord?”
I looked down at Elle. “Want me to stay for a while before I get your stuff?”
She bit her lip and considered. “What would you say about staying here tonight with me? When you get back?”
“Of course. I’ll hurry.” She rose on her toes to press a kiss to my jaw.
“I’ll see you in a little bit then.”
Hennessy pulled open the door, and I trailed him outside. As soon as the latch clicked behind me, I dove in. No use beating around the bush.
“Was it the same as the other two?”
“I can’t give you anything that’s not already public, but since this one’s a mess because the guy who found him posted a pic on Facebook, I can tell you he was shot in the back. No ID on the gun yet.”
“Fuck.”
“You know this looks bad, right?” Hennessy said, fixing his stare on me.
“You think I don’t know that? I’ve got alibis for the others, so there’s no way you’re looking at me for this. When the hell was he killed anyway? You got a time of death so I can get you yet another alibi?”
“Last night. Around eleven. You’re the only solid tie I’ve got to all three, man. I’m coming up empty otherwise.”
“You want to bring me in for questioning a third time to make you feel better? I didn’t fucking kill them, and I don’t know who did.”
“I suggest you think hard, because this shit just got a hell of a lot more high profile now that we’ve got a white lawyer who was murdered. Bree and Jiminy? No one cared about them … but this guy? He’s news. And it’s going to come back on your shop and your girl if the firearms ID supports what I’m thinking. And I’d hate to have it come back her.”
Hennessy’s words chilled my blood. “She’s got no motive. You leave her out of this.”
He stopped beside his car door. “It was her stepdad, and from what I’m hearing, they didn’t get along.”
I grabbed him by the arm. “She didn’t have a fucking thing to do with any of it. So you step off that path right the fuck now.”
He shook me off and straightened his suit jacket. “I have to do my job, and if that bothers you, it ain’t my problem. If she didn’t do it, she’s got nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah, because the fucking justice system is so perfect.”
Hennessy yanked open the door to his sedan and climbed in. “I’ll be in touch, Lord.”
I collected a few more of Elle’s things from my place, and headed for the shop. I needed to throw off this mood before I got back to her, because fuck, I needed my head on straight before I explained that she might have to answer some really uncomfortable questions. The thought of her sitting in the interview room like I had, facing Hennessy, was not something I wanted to see happen.
It was already after closing, so the place was dark and empty. I unlocked the back door, and slipped inside, hitting the light as I made my way to the office.
I pulled open the filing cabinet drawer where Elle always left her purse. It was a big white thing, with silver chain handles. I lifted it, shut the drawer, and turned to leave.
The chain got stuck on the filing cabinet handle and jerked me to a halt as it tilted sideways and spilled the entire contents.
“Shit.”
The thunk caught my attention first.
In the middle of the change, tampons, wallet, and makeup scattered on the floor was Elle’s gun.
Fuck. I was lucky the thing didn’t misfire. I grabbed it off the floor and pulled back the slide to pop the round out of the chamber. And froze.
It was a .32 ACP.
Hennessy’s words echoed in my head.
The bullet.
That Elle was the only one with ties to all of them.
No. Fucking. Way.
She had no motive.
At least not for Bree and Jiminy.
But her stepdad … last night. She’d stayed at her apartment.
No. No fucking way.
I grabbed the gun.
I was going to prove it.
It was almost ten, and Lord hadn’t shown up. And stupid me—my phone was in my purse, and his number was on my phone. How shitty was it that I didn’t know my boyfriend’s phone number? Hobbled by technology.
Boyfriend.
I had a boyfriend. And I was totally cool with that … at least I was when I wasn’t freaking out about every bad thing that could’ve possibly happened to him. An accident, or … what if whoever had killed Bree and Jiminy had somehow gotten to Lord?
No. Lord can handle himself. Always.
And I wasn’t going to lose him just when I’d found him.
He’d changed everything for me—everything.
I sat in my mother’s house, in the library, not feeling claustrophobic and antsy for the first time since she’d moved into it. I was working on a plan to carefully explain the treatment center so we could get her help. I was making lists of things I could do for the funeral to take the weight off her. The wedge between us? I was determined to pull it free and bridge the gap.
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was being a good daughter—and not out of guilt or obligation—but because I genuinely wanted to carry her burdens until she was strong enough to carry them herself.
And she would be. I would do everything in my power to make it happen. And Lord would be standing beside me, there for me to lean on when things got too heavy.
If I could just find him.