Trust Me (Last Stand #1)(56)
Author: Brenda Novak

“He did?” She drew back, looking up at him with troubled eyes.

“My partner just visited him. He’s still there.”

“But he has to have set it up.”

It was possible. David believed Oliver Burke was sneaky, that he planned his revenge against those on his list well in advance. Only a crafty kid could drown a fellow student and get away with it, and then have the nerve to show up for the funeral.

“Sheriff’s here,” someone said and David let go of Skye. Now that he could think straight, he remembered why it was important to be circumspect. Married or divorced, he’d been in a committed relationship for years. He didn’t want to embarrass the department, or Lynnette and Jeremy, any more than he already had.

“Sit down and try to relax,” he told her.

“Are you leaving?” She sounded fatalistic, as if she expected him to. And of course she would. He’d never been there for her, always had to go back to the life he’d chosen. He felt obliged to do so even now. He couldn’t leave his son in the car indefinitely. And he couldn’t bring him in. He didn’t want Jeremy subjected to the sight of a man who’d been shot to death.

“I’ve got Jeremy in the car.”

“Right.” She sniffed and lifted her chin, her eyes bleak. He nearly told her about Lynnette’s illness then. He wanted to, but he also knew it wouldn’t be fair to Lynnette to divulge to anyone, especially Skye, that duty bound him far more than love.

“I’ll call you.”

She didn’t respond. She stood, her spine stiff, as the sheriff approached.

“Ms. Kellerman, I’m Sheriff Bailey. I hope you won’t mind if I ask you a few questions about what happened here tonight.”

An older gentleman with white, wavy hair and a trim physique that belied his true age, which had to be around sixty, the sheriff acted respectful and nonthreatening. Nonetheless, David wished he could be present for the questioning.

“No, of course not,” she said, but her eyes lingered on David, and he felt as if he was abandoning her to drown in a sea of old memories and renewed fears.

“Detective Willis? Your kid’s getting antsy out here. He wants to know where you are.”

Pulling his gaze away from Skye, David forced himself to face Deputy Meeks. “I’m coming.”

There was nothing inside the Jaguar to put a name to the man she’d shot. Skye heard one of the deputies—Deputy Meeks—say that to the sheriff sometime after the coroner arrived at her house, pronounced the obvious cause of death and removed the body from her hallway. But Skye hoped the intruder’s identity wouldn’t remain a mystery for long. She wanted to face this threat head-on. Instead she felt as though she was shadow-boxing. Yes, she’d killed the man who’d climbed through her window, but she didn’t even know who he was. There was no reason for him to come after her, unless someone else had hired him to do it. And that meant she hadn’t eliminated the real threat at all.

After he’d finished questioning her, the sheriff took a full set of fingerprints from the deceased, which he planned to run through AFIS. If her intruder had any kind of police record, they should get a hit almost instantly. And, judging by how smoothly the goatee-wearing criminal operated, Skye was fairly certain he hadn’t just taken to a life of crime. She was sure they’d come up with something.

How he’d managed to get her address, Skye had no idea. But the ease with which he’d found her was terrifying.

Would Burke hire someone else to come after her? If he could do that while he was in prison, what might he be able to arrange now?

It was a question Skye didn’t want to address at the moment. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. But sleep wasn’t in her immediate future. It was after five in the morning by the time everyone cleared out. By then, she was tired of the buzzing activity and the questions she couldn’t answer: Why do you think this man would want to harm you? But you just told us the dentist who attacked you has been in prison for the past three years. How could he be behind this?

She chafed beneath the guarded glances of one particular deputy, who seemed to suspect her of using more force than necessary. But the indifference of the rest wasn’t much better. They didn’t care enough to wonder. They came and went as if this was more of the same old routine, while she was dying inside.

Sheridan was the only person she wished would stay. Her friend had arrived shortly after David left and had sat through much of the interview with the sheriff. Sheridan had also taken it upon herself to clean up the blood in the hallway, as well as the splatter on the wall, so Skye wouldn’t be faced with that stomach-turning task. Skye was grateful for the support, but then Sheridan had to hurry off to make an early-morning appointment with an eighty-year-old woman whom she feared was being abused by her temperamental son.

Skye knew Jasmine would’ve come, too, if she’d been around. But as soon as she’d returned home from the office yesterday, she’d received a call from the Fort Bragg police and headed back to the coast. They’d singled out a suspect in the slaying of the little girl. Jasmine wanted to speak to him as soon as possible, to get a feel for whether or not he was also responsible for kidnapping another girl, who’d gone missing from a small town about an hour south of Ft. Bragg three years ago.

That left Skye alone and feeling bereft.

Picking up her cell phone, she called Marin Memorial Hospital. She’d heard the sheriff use that name while talking to the officials at San Quentin.

How badly hurt was Oliver Burke? Was he seriously injured? Or were his wounds superficial? If he’d already been released, she wanted to know.

The phone rang three times before a professional-sounding female voice answered. “Marin Memorial.”

“Yes. Um…” Skye swallowed hard, unsure of how she might feel if Burke actually came on the line. “Oliver Burke’s room, please.”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t disturb patients this early, ma’am. You’ll need to call back after seven.”

“B-but I just heard what-what happened,” she stammered. “He’ll b-be okay, won’t he?”

Her nerves made her sound worried, and the woman softened. “I’m not sure. I just handle the phones here at the main desk. But…” There was a brief pause. “It’s 6:40. I guess I could ring the nurse’s station on his floor and ask them to check if he’s awake. Do you have the room number?”