“Bad, Frufru.” Holly tapped its nose. “You’ll have to excuse him. He doesn’t like people that much. Come in.” She backed up to let Amanda inside.
Maybe he was bitter about his name. Poor dog.“Thanks again. I appreciate your understanding.”
“I learned a long time ago that a cop’s hours aren’t set, no matter how far up the ranks one climbs.” She smiled kindly at Amanda. “If you want to follow me, Jeff’s out back.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”
“He’s just drinking a beer and reading a biography.”
Amanda’s steps slowed. She had hesitated to interrupt the chief’s Saturday, and now that it sounded so low-key and peaceful, she really should have listened to her instinct. But how could she not come when her inaction might seal Logan’s fate? It was feeling like she was the only way he’d get a shot at a fair investigation.
“Here you go.” Holly gestured toward a patio door, through which Amanda could see that Buchanan was seated under an umbrella, legs crossed, a thick hardcover in his lap, a beer bottle on the table next to him. “Go on,” Holly prompted.
Amanda dipped her head and slid the door open and stepped outside. She really should have left well enough alone. At least until Monday.
Buchanan looked up, an irritated grimace on his face, but it quickly transformed to confusion. “Detective Steele?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to disturb you.” She waved toward his book and the setup he had going. It looked relaxing, and their yard was a haven with neatly cut grass, a flagstone firepit area in the back, and flower beds bursting with color on all sides.
“Nonsense. It must be important to have you coming here. Go ahead. Sit.” He snatched a bookmark off the table next to him and stuck it into his book. “What is it?”
She dropped into the chair next to his, and her gaze went to his beer bottle, dabbled with condensation.
“Oh, how rude of me,” he said. “Would you like one?”
“No, that’s… I’m fine. I was just thinking again how sorry I am to be barging in here. You have a nice place.” She rushed out the latter bit hoping her flattery, though sincere, would cover her transgression of coming here.
“Thanks. So what is it you need?” Buchanan had been hospitable, but it seemed that his patience had reached its limit.
“I’m not sure if you heard about the murder in Dumfries last night. A woman was found in the residence of a Logan Hunter.” She’d phrased everything with professional detachment.
“I heard. Also heard you were there.” He lifted his sunglasses to rest on his head and squinted in the bright sun.
“I was. Mr.Hunter is a friend of mine. He was brought in under suspicion, and this morning was charged with murder.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It can’t be easy being close to the situation.”
His response silenced her for a few seconds. He would have heard about her past, surely. How her mother had murdered a man. How Amanda had still done her job and turned her in. Had he responded as he had to throw her off balance? She’d have to choose her next words carefully. It wouldn’t do her any favors to point an accusatory finger at a fellow brother in blue without proof. And while she hoped she could trust Buchanan, he was a fairly new presence around PWCPD. But if she was going to help Logan, she might need to cross the line a bit… “There are factors in the investigation which are suspect.”
“What are you saying?” His voice went deeper. Shadows darkened his face.
“In my opinion, the evidence against Hunter is circumstantial at best.”
“I heard the murder weapon was left on scene. It was his gun.”
Graves certainly hadn’t wasted any time filling in the police chief. “There were two guns,” she rushed out, then cleared her throat.
His features, normally relaxed, tightened. “What are you saying, Detective?”
“It hasn’t been confirmed as the murder weapon, sir.” She stiffened, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, but if she was reading him right, his anger wasn’t directed at her. She wondered if he’d heard of the second gun.
“Huh.”
“I’m taking it you heard something different?” She was probably pushing things too far, taking advantage of the liberties he was already extending her by simply hearing her out and giving her an audience.
“What is it you’re here to ask?” His tone was all business, and he was unmistakably ticked off—at her, Graves, the interruption to his weekend? All of it?
“This case has been assigned to Detectives Ryan and Hudson,” she began.
