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“They’re innocent. Just like I am.”
Talk about pissing in the wind.
“Evidence says otherwise.”
“There’s no evidence. It was their truck. That’s it. I don’t even want to know what kind of DNA is in that cab,” I mutter. “We all have alibis. And if you ask around, I bet Juliette does too because everyone takes notice of where that ticking time bomb is.”
“She was also being blackmailed by Lydia. That’s more probable cause. Maybe this was a family affair?”
I keep my expression blank. “Wonder who else she’d set her sights on. You should look for more of her victims before you accuse innocent folks of mowing her down?—”
“Innocent folks who were seen using that truck!”
“I never got behind the wheel. I was only there as their tow and to put a payment down,” I bite off.
“This is getting us nowhere, gentlemen,” Marc interrupts. “Sergeant, you have no grounds for arrest. You’re merely wasting my client’s time.”
My lips twitch at Terry’s disgusted look. “You’re the one who told me to bring a lawyer.”
“I didn’t mean to get an asshole,” he grumbles.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” is Marc’s retort. “Are we done here?”
Terry sniffs. “We are.”
“In the future, I’d appreciate it if you deal directly with me. Here’s my card.”
When we’re out of the station, Marc pulls me aside as we walk to our vehicles. “While the forensics show your DNA wasn’t in the cab, an unidentified sample was found on the wheel.”
“Must be Clyde.”
“Who’s Juliette?”
“The McAllister matriarch. Her prints would be in the cab because the triplets ferry her around in it when they’re not in school. Anyway, Juliette’s not the type to run someone over. She’s more likely to shoot someone in the face with a shotgun.”
Marc grunts. “Unless an eyewitness comes forward, they can’t put you behind the wheel.”
“Seeing as I didn’t do it, we’re fine and dandy.”
“I’m not saying you did. Just saying that if an eyewitness puts you in the cab?—”
“I. Didn’t. Do. It.”
“Fine.” He pinches my shoulder. “Hopefully, the next time we talk, it won’t be to visit the station.”
My lips twist. “We live in hope.”
As we part ways, I jump into the cab and start for home.
On a hunch, I call Juliette. “Why were you in town the day Lydia was killed?”
“Is it a crime to pick up some butter tarts for the boys?”
Relief swarms me. “You were with Harry?”
“Yes. Unfortunately. And I stopped in at The Coffee Shop too.” She sniffs. “Am I being interrogated for a reason?”
“I was just hauled in for questioning again.”