The opening door interrupted his thoughts again. Mitchell strode inside with his favorite detective.
The man strode to the table and tossed a manila folder onto it before he sat down in the chair, eyeing Grant while Mitchell dragged a seat closer and eased into it.
“I was just telling your legal counsel that you’re here because you refused to come with us willingly to answer questions.”
Grant sucked in a breath. “There was no reason for me to come down here.”
“Easy, Grant,” Mitchell said, placing a hand on his forearm. “Detective, I’d like to know why you singled out my client for questions about Mrs. Knight’s death.”
“Are you serious?” When Mitchell didn’t flinch, the detective tugged the folder closer and flicked it open. “We’ve got Mrs. Knight sprawled on someone’s balcony that’s not consistent with a fall or jump from her own. And in addition to that, she’s got bruising that suggest she struggled, fought off an attacker.”
“I still don’t see a reason why my client is sitting in handcuffs.”
The detective scoffed as he tossed the folder down. “Don’t you? He’s been involved in a very bitter battle with Mrs. Knight over his company.”
“A battle that he won,” Mitchell pointed out. “Why kill her after that?”
“Stop her from another attempt? Teach her a lesson? This is a woman who nearly cost him his company. And Mr. Harrington has a temper–”
“Allegedly.”
The officer offered them a fleeting smile. “There’s noallegedlyabout this. He lunged at me when I made a comment about his wife. I’ve seen his temper.”
“Do you have questions you’d like my client to answer or not?” Mitchell shot back.
“Look, Mr. Harrington, your wife ended up dead after a heated battle between the two of you. You expect us to believe this is all a coincidence?”
The weight of the accusation bore down on him, his own anxiety knotting in his stomach.
“Do you have a question or not?” Mitchell asked.
“When is the last time you saw Mrs. Knight?”
“I’m going to advise my client not to answer that,” Mitchell said.
“Got something to hide?” the detective asked.
“Look, detective, unless you have some solid evidence you’d like to use to formally charge my client, I’m going to ask that you release him immediately. Otherwise, we will sue you and the city for harassment.”
“Harassment? I’m trying to solve a murder here.”
“Something you’ve been trying to do several times in the past two years. You’ve consistently tried to pin crimes on my client that he has repeatedly been cleared of. He’s your favoritesuspect, and I think it’s because he’s an easy target. Now, either produce the evidence and file a formal charge or release him.”
The detective’s jaw clenched as he stared at the man. Before he could respond, the door opened again. “Joe, can I see you for a minute?”
“Sure. Excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll be right back.”
Grant shook his head as the man stepped into the hall, letting the door close behind him. “Do you think that’s the evidence?”
Mitchell narrowed his eyes as he wrote another note. “I’m surprised he didn’t play the footage yet. My guess is they don’t have conclusive evidence you were there or that your visit fits the time frame consistent with the death. Say nothing, let’s see where this goes.”
Grant drummed his fingers against the table as they waited. Mitchell’s phone chimed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “Julia’s here. I’ll give her an update.”
“I hate that we’re going through this again. Tell her to go back home.”
“I will, though I doubt she’ll listen to me.” Mitchell rose from his seat and strode to the door, leaving Grant alone again. This time his thoughts turned to his wife.
She’d dutifully come to the police station to support him. He loved her for that, but he hated that she was going through this again.
