“Of course. I’ll do my best. I’m very observant. I watch Forensic Files. My sister always says I’d make a great witness.”
So Mr. Wise Guy had a name. Will Decker. Olivia mulled it over, certain she’d heard it before.
“This is your dog?”
“Luna. Isn’t she precious? Poor little thing got the scare of her life. I did too.” Maryann hugged the dog to her, a wet spot forming on her ample chest where Luna’s paws rested.
“Can you tell me what happened this afternoon?”
“I intended on coming up here to the vigil but Melody—that’s my twin sister—she had to pull a double up at Crescent Bay. She’s a CO. That’s stands for correctional officer, in case you didn’t know.”
Olivia couldn’t see Detective Decker’s face but she could picture it. Lips pressed together in an unforgiving line. A faint eye roll, perhaps. “I’m aware,” he answered flatly.
“So, I didn’t want to leave Mama alone at home for too long. She’s pretty out of it these days. But Luna… I guess you might say nature was calling. I walked her down the block, and she did her business. Then, she spots one of those pesky gray squirrels, and she’s off to the races and into the woods. Now, you can probably tell I’m no runner, Detective.”
Maryann gestured down the length of her body. She and Melody were shaped just the same, from their short bowl haircuts to their stout, tree-trunk legs. The only difference, Maryann wore floral blouses and Crocs to work, while Melody squeezed herself into a standard green officer’s uniform.
“Before I caught up, Luna was already in the water getting her paws all filthy. I just had her groomed. I was so worried about Luna, I wasn’t really looking around until I got down here and saw… well, you know what I saw.”
As Maryann talked, Olivia’s phone vibrated in her coat pocket. Finally, a text from Em.
U ok? Got here late. Up at the church. Heard what happened. Please tell me it’s not really her.
Olivia closed the message without responding—let her worry for a change—and typed William Decker police into the search bar, gawking as hundreds of results populated her screen. So, this was the Will Decker. No wonder he acted like someone had spit on his shoe. They probably had.
“Did you go inside the tunnel?” he asked Maryann.
“Heck no. But I knew it was Bonnie on account of the boots. They’re designer. She got those last Christmas from James. All the girls at Crescent Bay turned into green-eyed monsters. Ask Doc over there. She remembers.”
Olivia wondered at how pathetic her life had become since she’d returned to Fog Harbor three years ago, because she did remember the boots. They were Marc Jacobs, black leather and ankle-high, and looked too good to wear to work in a place that smelled of bleach and bodily fluids. When Bonnie had shown up in them the week after Christmas, the rumor mill had begun its brutal churning.
James is selling cell phones to inmates. How else did he get that kind of money?
He had an affair with a CO and had to buy her something special to make up for it.
The Vulture gave her those boots. James is just saving face.
Bonnie thinks she’s so special, prancing around here. They’re knockoffs anyway.
Olivia sorted through the rumors she’d heard, preparing the perfect answer. One that involved none of them. But Detective Decker didn’t glance in her direction.
“Go on,” he encouraged Maryann.
“As soon as I saw those boots, I screamed bloody murder.” Maryann clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide behind her thick glasses. “I didn’t mean to say it that way. It’s just that I was real upset. I thought I might pass out, kind of like a heroine in a Brontë novel. Thank God, Doc came running when she did.”
At least someone appreciated her responsiveness.
Detective Decker jotted Maryann’s contact information into his notepad. “You’re free to leave, Ms. Murdock. If we have any other questions, we’ll be in touch.”
He turned toward Olivia but his gaze traveled past her, to the drainpipe. To the boots. The fine leather had already turned a dirty gray and Olivia imagined them in their final resting place: a sealed cardboard box in a stuffy evidence room.
The detective cleared his throat. His broad shoulders tensed. Olivia wondered why he wouldn’t look at her.
“If you don’t have any questions for me, Detective, I’d like to go. My sister’s waiting at the church. It’s getting pretty cold out here, and my clothes are wet.”
She stood up, brushing off her backside, the legs of her pants clinging to her skin. A gust of wind stirred the crime scene tape, raising the fine hairs on her arms. She shivered.
“Actually—Doctor, is it?—you’re not free to leave.” When she finally met his eyes, they’d hardened into stones of amber. “You’re under arrest for obstruction.”
Chapter Three
That same damn look. Dr. Smarty Pants—of course, she would be a doctor—had been giving Will that look, or some variation of it, since he’d held the door for her outside the church. He’d seen it before, too. Women were always giving him that look, though it happened less since he’d fled from San Francisco four months ago and moved here, where the cover of the fog and the redwoods seemed to keep the real world at bay. Equal parts pity, confusion, and judgment, that look meant one thing. She knew. Somehow, she knew.
That’s why he’d said it, told her she was under arrest. Total bullshit. But he had to say something. Anything to wipe that look from her face. And it worked. Only problem, the new look wasn’t much better. Fierce green eyes and a scowl that cut him off at the knees.
Smooth, Deck. Real smooth. No wonder he hadn’t been laid in two years.
“Seriously? On what grounds?”
“I identified myself as an officer of the law. I told you to stop. Several times. And you blatantly, willfully, ignored my commands.”
Will waited for her to argue. He welcomed it, actually. That way he could justify being an asshole.
“I just thought—well, I don’t know why I did it. I guess I hoped there was a chance… I know it sounds silly.”
He couldn’t bear seeing her eyes fill. But he’d started it, and he couldn’t back down now. “What if the perp had been hiding out in there? What if you’d stepped on some crucial piece of evidence? Blown our chance at catching this guy? That’s obstruction in my book.”
She took a step toward him, teetering on the rocks, until she was close enough to touch, but he resisted the urge to steady her. She extended both her hands, goosebumps visible on her skin. The tears in her eyes had vanished. “Fine. Arrest me then. Let’s get it over with.”
Heat crept up his neck. She’d boxed him into a corner. Nothing could save him now. Except—
“Hey, Deck. JB’s on his way. Said to start without him on account of the rain coming. I’ll see ya in there.”
Chet Clancy, Fog Harbor Medical Examiner and last-minute savior of total lost causes. Will nodded at him and held up a finger.
“Duty calls, Doctor. But consider this a stern warning. Listen to the police. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”