“It’s easy for you to say,” Shelly shot back. “No one is going to arrest a Winslow in this town.”
“If a Winslow murdered someone, I can assure you Finn would arrest them,” Tate said. “He’s not like some of the sheriffs we’ve had in the past.”
Tate didn’t need to mention his mother’s disappearance. The police had botched that investigation eight ways to Sunday, possibly at the behest of Joel Winslow.
Maybe I should give my old man the benefit of the doubt. Not be so hard on him.
Nah, he deserves it.
“I’ll call my attorney,” Leo finally said. “But I still don’t trust anyone. Has it occurred to you, Tate, that it could be one of our very own friend group who tried to kill Josh? Poor Tyler was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Leo’s statement caught Tate’s attention immediately.
“Why do you say that it could be one of us? Do you know something that I don’t?”
“I don’t think so,” Leo replied. “But think about it. It’s usually the spouse who’s guilty, and Rachel is part of our friend group. And if the spouse is innocent, then it’s a friend or business acquaintance, right? I doubt Josh was shot at randomly by a stranger. It was someone who knew him - like a friend.”
“Do you think Rachel shot at her husband? Because I’m pretty sure she was inside the house when it happened.”
Tate didn’t know that for sure, though. He’d shown up after the shooting occurred. Rachel had said she was in the kitchen.
“I don’t know,” Shelly responded. “But she didn’t have to pull the trigger herself. She could have hired someone to do it.”
How quickly Shelly and Leo had turned on their best friends. Who needed enemies?
“Shelly, do you hear yourself?” Tate asked. “You’re throwing one of your oldest friends under a bus.”
“We’re just conjecturing,” Leo said. “We don’t think Rachel tried to kill Josh. We’re just talking about all the options.”
This conversation was going absolutely nowhere fast.
“Call your lawyer,” Tate stated firmly. “Don’t make people cover for you. Tell the truth. You’ll be fine. I’m sure you or one of your neighbors has a doorbell camera showing you arriving home last night and not leaving until later in the morning.”
Leo’s brows shot to the top of his forehead.
“A doorbell camera. Why didn’t I think of that? Shelly, let’s go talk to the Dexters across the street. I bet they have the footage.”
Before Tate could even reply, Leo and Shelly were sprinting to their car, parked at the end of the alley. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he checked to see who had texted him.
Rachel.
Tyler hadn’t survived the surgery. He was dead.
His friend had been murdered.
Chapter
Ten
Cat didn’t knowwhat she was doing walking around the campus after dark. She wasn’t afraid or anything. There were students all around, laughing and talking as if everything in the world was happy and normal.
After hearing the news about Tyler, she’d eaten dinner with her mother, but she hadn’t been able to sit still once the dishes were done and the kitchen tidied. Her mom had mentioned possibly watching a movie, but staying in one spot would be impossible.
When Cat needed to sort out her thinking and emotions, she wanted to move, not stay still. Back in New York City, she’d wander around for hours sometimes when she needed to make a big decision, mentally listing pros and cons. It had been a good way to get some exercise, plus do her brain work at the same time.
That’s how she’d found herself walking around the quad, letting the images of Tyler and her friends shuffle through like a deck of cards, flashing by so quickly it almost made her dizzy.
She hadn’t even spoken with Tyler in years, and here she was, knocked sideways by his death.
