“I don’t know, just crazy stuff. He was paranoid. Like a paranoid schizophrenic. Why? What did you hear?”

“You work for Maddy, right?”

“Uh-huh. Did—” She stopped.

“Did what?”

“Nothing. Can I go now?”

“Just a few questions and we’re through.” Jolie smiled.

“Okay. It’s just, I’m really tired and it’s been so scary and I want to see Niraj. I want to see if he’s okay. Is he all right?”

“Niraj is fine.” Jolie leaned forward so their legs were almost touching. “Amy, was Maddy afraid of her husband?”

Jolie noticed that every time Amy got nervous, the leg crossed over her knee bounced. Right now Amy’s legs were going like a jackhammer. “How would I know?”

“Royce said you were worried about Maddy Akers because her husband beat her. He even threatened to kill her.”

“Is that what Royce said? She did mention something about that.”

“So Maddy thought he was going to kill her?”

“That’s what she told me.”

“Thing is,” Jolie said, “Royce said that you and Maddy planned to kill Chief Akers and make it look like a suicide. He said you asked him for help because the chief was beating his wife and he threatened to kill her.”

“That’s bullshit!” Her legs shook so much, the one on top slid off, hitting the floor with a smack.

“Is it? He went into a lot of detail.”

Amy kept quiet, but Jolie saw something in her eyes. More than worry—the beginnings of panic.

“You know what I think?” Jolie said. “Maddy’s a bad influence on people. Telling Royce that her husband wanted to kill her. That wasn’t even true, was it?”

Amy concentrated on the table.

“Maddy lied to Royce. I bet she lied to you, too. It sounds to me like she used you. She told you she was afraid for her life. I can understand you’d be sympathetic—it’s not easy being a woman. Domestic violence isn’t taken seriously, is it? Men threaten their wives, and you just know some day they’re going to do it. It happens all the time. So I can see how you’d believe her. Why wouldn’t you believe her?”

Amy opened her mouth to say something. Stopped.

Jolie said, “To me, that’s just plain self-defense. If my husband told me he was going to kill me, I surely would try to kill him first. I’m not going to wait there like a sitting duck.”

Amy took a deep breath. Said in a small voice: “She told me he hired a hit man to kill her. He said it could happen any time. She was terrified.”

“And you believed her. Who wouldn’t?”

“If I told you what she did, what would happen to me? I mean, what kind of deal would I get? Would I have to do jail time?”

“Amy, if Maddy lied to you about her husband wanting to kill her, if she used you, that would be a mitigating circumstance. If you’re forthcoming about this, I could talk to the state attorney, see what he thinks…”

She looked relieved. She wanted to talk.

Here we go.

“What if I had something to trade?”

“Trade?”

“So I wouldn’t have to do jail time.”

“That’s up to the state attorney.”

“What if I knew about something…” She twisted her hair. “You know, something bigger?”

Jolie stared at her.

“Something really huge.”

Jolie said, “You’re going to have to tell me more about it.”

“If we can work out a deal, if you can promise me I won’t go to jail, I’ll tell you.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“Then I’m not telling.”

“Amy—”

“Do you have a safe house?”

A safe house. Jolie realized something big was happening. It was time to talk to the state attorney. She stood up. “I’ve got to go to the little girl’s room. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She opened the door and collided with her detective sergeant, Skeet.

It was not a pleasant experience. He shoved her back a little, hands clamped on her forearms, his bovine face blocking out the fluorescents above like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day balloon. “Whoa there, you in a hurry?”

He looked beyond her. “That Amy Perdue you got in there?” He leaned in through the doorway and spoke directly to Amy. “Ma’am? Amy Perdue? Your lawyer said to tell you he’s on his way.”

Jolie’s disbelief turned quickly to anger as she realized what had happened. She looked back at Amy—who was as surprised as she was.

Amy didn’t have a lawyer. Correction: she didn’t know she had a lawyer. Jolie stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her, and said to Skeet, “What are you doing?” She didn’t know whether he understood the ramifications of his action or not. Skeet was dumb, but he also had a perverse streak.

Skeet’s mouth turned up slightly at the corner. It made him look even dumber. “You’re going to have to be clearer than that.”

“How’s this for clear?” Jolie said. “You just shut my interrogation down.”

Jolie left Amy in the interview room to wait for her lawyer. From the moment Skeet poked his head in, Amy was off-limits—it was as if Amy’s fairy godmother had come in and waved a magic wand. While she waited, Jolie called Sheriff Johnson at home and asked for a surveillance team on Maddy Akers. She didn’t mention Skeet’s blunder or her reaction to it. There was no point. Tim Johnson was a good sheriff in a lot of ways, but he let Skeet do what he pleased. The reason Tim didn’t do anything about Skeet was because Skeet was married to the mayor’s cousin.

“Surveillance? What are they looking for?” the sheriff said.

“Anything out of the ordinary. If she goes anywhere, I want them to follow her. They’ll need two cars. I want to know right away if Amy goes by to see her.”

She was thinking about the five thousand dollars Amy had coming. Jolie thought it was from Maddy for services rendered. “I’m asking for a warrant, for her financial dealings and also her house.”

“You think you have probable cause?”

“Don’t know unless I try. I’m thinking Doug Sharpe.” Doug Sharpe was a judge who was known to be supportive of law enforcement.

“His wife is in a bridge club with Mrs. Akers.”

“I’ll have to take my chances.”

The ringing phone woke Jolie. The clock said eight fifteen. Jolie’d had about six hours of sleep after being up thirty-eight hours. Typical, when a homicide was going. She lay in bed, let the answering machine pick it up.

A woman’s voice drifted in from the other room—agitated.

Jolie ran for the phone.

“Amy?”

“Oh. You’re there.” She paused. “My lawyer said I shouldn’t talk to you. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Then why are you?”

“Because…I think they’re after me.” She blurted it out.

“Who’s after you?”

“It’s…there was this car outside my place.”

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