“Yeah. He’s done most of the work in the last year or so.”
Luke rang the bell. It took a long time for Kyle to come to the door. When he finally did, his hair was disheveled and a day’s worth of bristles darkened his jaw. He was wearing a worn T-shirt and ripped jeans.
“Sorry.” Megan smiled. “Did we wake you?”
“No, I was watching a movie. This cold is brutal.” He leaned against the door. “What’s up?”
“We need to ask you some questions about Franny’s party. Can we come in?”
Kyle hesitated, glancing back into the recesses of the house. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky followed by a low rumble of thunder and wind scattered pine needles through the yard.
He opened the door with a sigh. “The house is messy at the moment but okay. Come in.”
Luke crossed over the threshold and caught a whiff of marijuana smoke. A knot formed in his stomach. He followed Megan into the living room. Empty chip bags littered the coffee table, along with several glasses. One of them held an amber-colored liquid.
Luke craned his neck toward the back bedrooms. “Is anyone else in the house with you?”
“Nope. I just don’t do dishes often.” Kyle grabbed a couple of glasses and laughed. “Don’t go in the laundry room. You’ll never make it out alive.”
Luke chuckled. “I’m not a fan of laundry myself. Still, do you mind if I look around?”
Kyle frowned and his gaze narrowed. The request made it sound as if he was a suspect, and it clearly put him on edge, but Luke wouldn’t ignore his gut instinct.
Megan rolled her eyes. “Good grief, all law enforcement officers are the same. Sheriff Franklin used to do the same thing when he visited June.”
Luke’s expression never changed as the lie tumbled from her lips. Working with Megan for the last week reminded him of how in tune they were. He hadn’t been joking when he told her they made great partners.
Kyle’s posture relaxed. “Yeah. Come to think of it, I’ve done a couple of ride-alongs with my uncle and he did it then too.” He set the glasses down on the coffee table. “I’ll go with you.”
He escorted Luke down the hall. The bedroom doors were open. One had been converted to an office. Most of them were neat, except for the master. The bed was unmade and a pile of dirty glasses sat on the nightstand. The television on the dresser was on, a car chase playing out on the screen.
“Thanks, man,” Luke said. He hadn’t looked in the closets or under the beds, but asking would’ve been pushing it. “Appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
They went back into the living room. Megan had straightened the cushions on the couch and gathered the trash into a pile.
“You don’t have to clean up,” Kyle said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gosh, this is embarrassing.”
“I don’t know why.” Megan laughed lightly. “Your nickname in middle school was Pigpen. It’s not like you didn’t come over to our house and make a disaster there every single weekend.”
“And you used to yell at me about it.” He picked up a dirty plate. “I miss those days. Things were so simple back then, but we didn’t know it.”
Luke helped them carry a couple of glasses into the kitchen. Rain pattered against the window. The kitchen wasn’t much cleaner than the living room. A half-eaten sandwich and more dirty dishes littered the stained countertop. The tension in Kyle’s shoulders went away. Interesting. He didn’t like it when they were in the living room.
“What questions do you have for me?” Kyle asked.
“Do you know a Quentin Perdue?” Megan asked, flipping on the faucet and squeezing dish soap into the sink.
“Yeah. I met him back when I used to do cattle-roping competitions at the rodeo. But he died last year from an overdose.”
Luke kept his distance, letting Megan take the lead on questioning. She had a relationship with Kyle that went back to childhood and he was more relaxed speaking with her.
“Was Quentin at Franny’s birthday party?” She turned off the water. Suds floated in the sink, intermixed with the dirty dishes.
Kyle frowned and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. He stared at the tile floor for a moment. “Yeah, he was. Why?”
“We received a tip about him.”
Megan went back into the living room. Luke followed. Kyle bolted after them. His gaze darted toward the hall before settling back on Megan. She picked up another couch cushion and shook it out.
“Really, Megs—”
“Did Franny know Quentin?” She put the pillow back into position. “Were they friends?”
“I don’t think they were close, but yeah, they were friendly. I mean she invited him to her party. But they didn’t hang out often. After Franny stopped going to the rodeo with Chad and Skeeter, a lot of the friends she made there drifted off.”
Luke meandered over to a bookshelf pretending to examine a baseball trophy. The hallway was clear. Nothing seemed out of place, but Kyle’s spine stiffened.
“What about Wade?” Megan asked. “Did he know Quentin?”
“I don’t think so.” Kyle sniffed. “Wade and Franny didn’t become friends until after her rodeo days were over. What’s this all about? What kind of tip did you receive about Quentin?”
“We’ve learned he might be involved in Franny’s murder.”
Kyle’s eyes darted back and forth. “Quentin? That’s…that would be weird. I mean, the guy wasn’t a saint. I know he was using drugs way back in the rodeo days, but he never struck me as violent. And he was always nice to Franny.”
Luke moved back toward the couch and Kyle let out a breath. Something about the bookcase was making him nervous. Megan seemed to notice too because she grabbed an empty bag of chips and crumpled it before reaching for another. Smart woman read his mind. They needed to get Kyle out of the
