Shane walked beside her. “Did you talk to anyone who could shed light on anything?” As long as she’d been gone, she’d done more than picking up her sister’s phone.
Jess pursed her lips, indecision stamped into her features. Something had changed. She’d closed herself off from him. He’d seen suspicion on her face several times, but now she seemed even more guarded. She’d apparently been on a fact-finding mission and wasn’t sure if she should trust him with what she’d learned.
She narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re not involved?”
It was a good question. She’d known him all of four days. Caution was good, but he needed to get her to trust him.
“You don’t. I can assure you, though, that I’m not. I arrived a few hours before you did. You can ask anyone here. No one saw me before this past Tuesday.”
She trapped her lower lip between her teeth and stared down at the dog.
He continued, his tone earnest. “Everything has risk involved. Sometimes you have to weigh the risk against the rewards. You want to learn the truth about your sister. Two can accomplish twice as much as one. Who can you trust to be on your side? Your local police? Certainly not your chief.” He paused. “I want to work with you on this. I want to help you find answers, but I need you to trust me.”
Was he getting through to her? It was hard to tell. One thing was clear. Trust for her didn’t come easily. “Look at me, Jess. What does your gut tell you?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. After staring at him for several moments, she turned and walked back into the house. What did that mean?
He followed her in, and she eyed him over one shoulder.
“I went to the police station.”
Relief washed through him. “Yes?”
She unclipped the leash and took a seat on the couch. “Alan was there. I was able to look at the police and autopsy reports before Branch arrived and threw me out.”
He sat at the other end of the sofa. “Branch threw you out?”
“Not really threw me out. Just basically told me that if I didn’t stop snooping, I was going to meet with an unfortunate accident.”
Shane ground his teeth as heat shot through him. Branch wasn’t just conceited, overbearing and condescending. He was a bully. And he was dirty. He probably didn’t kill Priscilla Parker, but he seemed to be covering for someone who had. If Jess didn’t back off, she was going to be the next target. His chest tightened.
“Did you learn anything at the police station that you didn’t already know?”
She patted the spot between them, and the dog leaped up and settled into the space. “The oxycodone Prissy overdosed on was injected. There was a mortar and pestle on her nightstand, and a syringe in the bed beside her, all covered with her prints.”
She rested a hand on Buttons’s back and buried her fingers in the shaggy white fur. The dog released a breath that was half sigh, half whine and pressed himself against her leg. Maybe when this was over, she’d decide to keep him. The decision would likely benefit her as much as the dog. Experiencing the unconditional love of a pet might help to smooth the rough edges of her personality.
She frowned. “There’s only one problem with the theory that Prissy injected herself. She was terrified of needles. She would have never gone that route when swallowing the pills would accomplish the same thing.”
“She was terrified of needles as a child. You don’t know if that fear carried into adulthood.”
“There was also slight bruising on her upper arms and wrists, like someone might have held her down.”
“That could have been from anything. If she was really as terrified of needles as you say, she would have fought like a wildcat. She’d have bruises on her legs, too.”
“Not if someone sat across her legs to pin her down. Whoever did it, I’m sure he had help.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t deny that the whole thing is suspicious. Priscilla wasn’t an intravenous drug user. Hammy said so, and I believe he was telling the truth. Besides, there weren’t any needle marks anywhere on her, except the one on her left arm, right below—” She stopped midsentence, her eyes wide.
“What is it?”
“The needle mark was on her left arm.”
He stared at her, waiting for her to continue. He didn’t see the significance. “Yes?”
“Priscilla was left-handed. There’s no indication she’d ever injected anything before. But let’s assume this one time she did. Do you really think she’d use her non-dominant hand?”
“You have a point.”
“You’re not going to come up with some way to explain it away?”
“There are too many things that don’t add up.” He sighed. He wasn’t going to talk her out of getting involved, especially now. “Hammy knows something, and I’d bet Branch does, too.”
“But I don’t think either of them killed her.”
“I agree. But since there was no sign of forced entry, someone must have had a key.”
“Or they knew about the key under the flower pot in front and used it to come in.”
“There was a key under the flower pot?”
“Eight years ago, yes, except for when Prissy would hide it and lock me out. It wasn’t there when I arrived a few days ago, but maybe that’s because someone took it.”
“Maybe.” He paused. “Don’t forget about Buttons, too.”
“You’re right. Buttons knew the killer. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have let him into the house.”
“True. We know Priscilla had something they were looking for, something incriminating.”
She nodded. “A document or photo, or maybe even a recording.”
“Which brings us back to the phone. What do you say we check out her pictures?”
“Sounds good.”
When he picked up the phone from the coffee table, she leaned closer to better see the display, pressing her shoulder against his. As he touched the menu icon and brought up the photos, a clean, fresh scent surrounded him. It wasn’t
