Page 22 of In Her Bed
Mickey’s smile was thin.“You always do, Chief.You always do.I take comfort in that.Really.”
With that, he closed the door.The sound of multiple locks engaging followed.
The drive back to the Pinecrest Police Department was quick and quiet.When they arrived at the station, a young officer met them at the entrance, practically vibrating with news.
“Lynch’s lawyer just got here, Chief.They’re waiting in Interview Room One.”
“About time,” Spelling muttered.
Jenna nodded her thanks to the officer and led the way through the station.The familiar bustle of police work—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, muted conversations—was oddly comforting after the tense scene at Mickey’s apartment.
Outside the interview room, they paused for a brief strategy session.
“Let me take point,” Morgan suggested.“I’ve known Lynch for years.”
“I’ll support,” Jenna agreed.“Jake, you observe.Note any reactions, inconsistencies.”
Jake nodded, his eyes meeting hers with quiet understanding.
“And you, Colonel?”Morgan asked Spelling.
“I’ll let you handle it,” Spelling replied.“I’ll observe from the adjoining room.”
With roles established, they entered the interview room.Harris Lynch sat with perfect posture at the metal table, his expression neutral.Beside him sat a woman Jenna instantly recognized as Eleanor Winters, one of the most formidable defense attorneys in the area.Her charcoal suit was impeccable, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun, and her piercing eyes followed each officer as they entered.
“Chief Morgan, Sheriff Graves,” Ms.Winters acknowledged with a crisp nod.“I understand you’re holding my client with insufficient support for your charges.”
Morgan took a seat across from Lynch.“Counselor, we have some questions about a murder.”
“My client has no knowledge of any murder,” Ms.Winters replied smoothly.
Jenna fought to keep her frustration from showing.
“Mr.Lynch,” she tried again, “where were you the night before last between midnight and four in the morning?”
“My client will not answer questions regarding his whereabouts,” Ms.Winters interjected.“Unless you have evidence linking him to Mr.Derrick’s death, these questions are inappropriate.”
Jenna caught Jake’s eye across the table.His slight frown mirrored her own thoughts.Their case against Lynch for murder was circumstantial at best, based on his attitude and his reported desire for an object he didn’t possess.
The interview continued for another forty minutes, a verbal chess match with Ms.Winters blocking every attempt to extract useful information from Lynch.
Chief Morgan finally said, “Okay, but I can hold Mr.Lynch on another matter.”
The lawyer looked at him inquisitively.
“Dealing in stolen property,” Morgan told her.“I’m referring to one item in particular, a samovar we saw in your shop, Mr.Lynch.”
Lynch remained silent, deferring to his lawyer with a glance.The two of them went into a huddle, whispering together.Then Ms.Winters announced, “My client admits he acquired a samovar.He purchased it from a customer who claimed it was a family heirloom.”
“And I have a witness who will swear, in court if necessary, that your client knew it was stolen.And I will hold him on that charge.”
Although the lawyer argued valiantly, the police chief gave no ground.Ms.Winters finally marched away, making threats of a lawsuit.
By the time Lynch was returned to his cell and the four officers regrouped, Jenna’s temples were throbbing with tension.
“We didn’t get what we needed on the murder charge,” Jake observed, loosening his collar slightly.
Morgan countered.“We’ve got enough to hold him on the stolen goods charge.And Judge Peterson owes me a favor—we’ll have a warrant to search his shop and financial records in no time at all.”
