fluorescent lighting. Preston stood over me, wearing a worried expression.

“Preston.” I pushed myself up, sliding my feet back on the floor to make room for him. “What are you doing here?”

“Fern called me.” He sat down next to me, clasping his hands together like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. This was one of the few times I’d seen him without his briefcase. I wondered if he felt anxious without it, almost like a security blanket maybe.

“She thought you could use some support.” He hovered next to me, his gaze lingering, the unmistakable interest gleaming in his eyes.

How thoughtful of Fern. No, not really. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Preston’s somewhat odd infatuation with me.

Maybe there was something in the water here? In Portland, I rarely detected interest from any guy. I couldn’t even remember the last time I went on a date; I was too busy working.

Yes, that was it. Here, I had all this free time, and surely, I was reading more into it than there actually was. Maybe not with Kenny, since we had history. And here I’d come full circle back to that again.

I might as well face it: my love life sucked because of Kenny. Correction: My love life sucked because I’d allowed Kenny’s betrayal to hold me back.

I’d like to say that I resolved right then and there to break free of that, only I didn’t. I continued to sit there on that hard, uncomfortable bench, next to Preston who had… great, he was now holding my hand. But frankly, at the moment I was too physically and emotionally exhausted to do much of anything.

Footsteps sounded nearby, followed by a man clearing his throat. I looked up to see Cole staring down at me, then his gaze shifted slightly to the bench where Preston’s hand was covering mine. I tugged it onto my lap.

“Mr. Brooks, Charlee,” he said in clipped tones. “If you’d follow me, please,” he added as an afterthought.

We stood and followed Cole into his office and sat down in our usual spots, as I’d come to think of them, since this room was becoming very familiar to me. It really was a depressing space. Maybe I should buy Cole a plant. A fake plant, since I’m sure he would forget to water it, but something cheerful. A succulent perhaps?

“Charlee.” Cole said my name like he’d tasted something bitter, pulling me from my inane thoughts.

“Yes.” My gaze veered back to him.

“Do you still have the note?” He held open a plastic evidence bag.

“Yes,” I removed it from my purse and placed it in the bag, which he sealed and set on his desk.

“Let’s go through this again, starting from the beginning.”

“Sure,” I agreed, going into every detail I could recall including casting up my dinner, which made Preston turn a little green. Then I launched right into my theory as to why Floyd was killed, undeterred by Cole’s scowl or the fact that he hadn’t asked for my opinion.

I didn’t care. They still hadn’t discovered who killed Earl, and now they had another murder to deal with. “I think Sting Ray killed him for talking to me,” I speculated confidently.

“Excuse me?” Cole blinked several times, then reached for a file on his desk. “This guy?” he pulled out a mug shot of a man resembling the creepy guy I’d talked to the other night.

I nodded. “Yeah, that looks like him, except for his hair is longer now, and very greasy.” I wrinkled my nose.

Cole looked to the ceiling and did that counting thing in his head again. “His name is Anton Parks,” Cole bit out, clearly frustrated. “But that’s beside the point. Do I even dare ask what you were doing talking to him?”

“He doesn’t look like an Anton.” I studied the picture a little closer. “I see why he goes by Sting Ray. Much more intimidating.”

Cole slammed his fist on the desk, leaning forward in his chair. “Charlee, is this some kind of joke to you?”

Preston, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “Sheriff Walker, there’s no need to get angry. Charlee came here willingly, but she’s free to leave at any time, and I am about ready to advise her to do so.” I glanced briefly at the sweater-wearing lawyer next to me and smiled.

I was fully aware that my attitude had been flippant with Cole, but it was just a means to protect myself. Inside, I still felt sick to my stomach, and recounting what had happened made me want to throw up all over again.

If I made light of what had occurred, it helped me to feel somewhat removed from the traumatic experience, giving me a sense of power over it, however delusional that was. That and I worried I might start crying hysterically. Something I planned to avoid at all costs.

Cole forcibly leaned back in his chair, but he wasn’t the least bit relaxed. “I apologize, please continue.”

“Floyd told me how he and Earl worked for Sting Ray. I thought maybe Earl had a run-in with someone on a delivery, so I assumed Sting Ray might know something,” I explained without the attitude this time.

“And did he?”

“No. Well, not that he was willing to tell me. Do I think he knows something? Yes, absolutely. But both Floyd and Sting Ray threatened to off me.” I used my fingers to make a slicing motion across my neck. “And now Floyd turns up with his throat slashed, so somebody didn’t want him talking anymore. That or Sting Ray had Floyd killed simply because he talked to me.”

I slumped in my seat as I considered that I was partially responsible for getting a man killed. The tears I’d tried so hard to prevent welled up in eyes. Then I realized both Cole and Preston were staring at me in utter disbelief.

“What?” I swiped a hand across my teary eyes.

“They threatened to kill you?” Cole asked with an icy calm.

I nodded. “Yeah, but I thought

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