“I’ve seen murder committed for a lot less,” Detective Mikeloff sneered.
“Do you know when the insulin was given to her?” Dani asked.
“Not at this time.” Something flickered in the detective’s eyes and Dani wondered what he wasn’t saying.
“Fu—” she stopped herself. She had given up using the f-bomb when she’d agreed to have the girls live with her. “Crap!” Dani substituted the lesser curse for her expletive of choice. She’d been hoping she and Ivy could provide him with an alibi. On to plan B. If only she had one.
“Look, let’s make this easy for all of us. You don’t want your friend to get in trouble because of something you did.” He looked between Ivy and Dani. “Just tell me what happened.” Sincerity oozed from his voice. “Juries are suckers for crimes of passion. With a good lawyer, you’ll probably only get a few years in minimum security.”
Dani forced herself to quit hyperventilating and think. If Mikeloff could make a case against either of them, he would have already taken her or Ivy into custody. He was trying to trick them into confessing, but he really didn’t have any bait to put in his trap.
“The scenario you paint would be great, if either of us were guilty, but we didn’t do it.” Dani crossed her arms and leaned a hip nonchalantly against the island. “So, unless you’re ready to arrest either of us, get out of my kitchen.”
“Who do you think you are?” Detective Mikeloff’s expression darkened. “You can’t order me around.”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean it that way.” Dani backed up, putting more space between them. She was increasingly convinced that something wasn’t right with the man. His slinky was definitely kinked and that made him dangerous. Frightened, she asked, “Uh, don’t police officers usually travel in pairs? Where’s your partner?”
“I sent him on an errand.” Mikeloff moved toward her. “I wanted to do this by myself.”
His smile sent a chill up her back, and she was about to grab the girls and make a run for it when she heard someone ringing the bell and beating on the front door.
When Starr took a step toward the hall, Detective Mikeloff threw out his arms and growled, “Ignore that. No one is interfering with this investigation.”
“Too late.” Ivy tossed her hair. “I texted my uncle Spence that you’re harassing us. That’s probably him at the door. And when he finds out you’ve been mean to us, he’ll kick your butt so far into the stratosphere even Google won’t be able to find it.”
For a long moment, Mikeloff stared at Dani, his eyes glittering with malevolence, then he snarled, “You haven’t heard the last of this. This time, you’ll pay for your sins.” He whirled around and marched to the back door, muttering as he went, “You may have had all the power at Homestead, but now I’m in charge.”
As soon as he stepped out the door, Tippi ran over and locked it behind him. They all took huge gulps of air, breathing as though they’d been deprived of oxygen for a week. The banging from the front of the house continued, but Dani and the others sank to the floor, unable to move.
Ivy gasped, “I should see if that’s Uncle Spence.” But when she tried to stand, her legs wouldn’t support her.
Dani said, “We’ll go get him in a minute. Just concentrate on breathing for a few seconds.”
During Dani’s years working in HR, she’d developed a way of compartmentalizing her feelings. It had been such an emotionally charged atmosphere that the defense mechanism was the only way to survive situations in which her actions—actions she didn’t always agree with—affected so many people’s lives.
It had been tough at first, but with practice, she’d learned to box off her feelings quickly, and now, within a few moments, Dani’s mind cleared.
What had Mikeloff meant about paying for her sins and having all the power? Did it have anything to do with why his features seemed familiar? But who did he resemble? It had to be someone from Homestead.
Mentally, she flipped through her coworkers and all the personnel and potential employees with whom she’d interacted. Most were in their twenties or thirties, so she tried to imagine a younger Mikeloff, but there was still only the slightest flicker of recognition.
Did the detective have a relative who worked at Homestead or had applied for a position there? Had Dani done something that caused that person to lose their job or not be hired? If so, she, and maybe Ivy by her association with her, could be in big trouble.
The clearly unhinged detective would need no other reason than payback for concentrating all his efforts in trying to prove Dani had murdered Regina.
Chapter 7
Spencer had spent most of the day with his boss, the university vice president in charge of safety and security. It had taken them all morning and into the afternoon, but they had finalized the campus’s new severe weather response strategy. After the tornadoes that had ripped through Illinois last August, the college administration had been determined to update their old plan.
Once he had checked in via phone with his on-duty security officers and been assured that the campus was quiet, Spencer had shed his suit jacket and decided to walk over to see his niece. The Cook Mansion was less than two miles from the vice president’s office and the early June temperature was an ideal seventy-eight degrees. Central Illinois wasn’t blessed with enough perfect weather days to waste this one inside the cab of a truck, and his motorcycle was in the shop for a tune-up.
Spencer had been strolling down the narrow sidewalk a couple of blocks from the mansion enjoying the warm breeze whispering through the leaves of the hedge maple trees when he’d gotten Ivy’s text: Crazy cop harassing us.
