Page 15 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

Taggert looked doubtful. “You didn’t see it?”

“No.” Troy flushed. “I was watching that blond woman.”

Bree switched gears. “Were you driving your Porsche earlier today?”

Troy said, “No.”

“Where do you keep the vehicle?”

“In my garage.”

“Does anyone else have a key to your house?”

“No.”

“There was a keypad on your garage door. Does anyone have the code?” Bree asked.

“No one,” Troy said in a firm voice. “And I change the code every week or two.”

Bree tilted her head. “Do you have house cleaners?”

“Yes, but they don’t enter my house unless I’m there, and I don’t leave them unattended.”

“Do you watch them every moment they’re in the house?” Bree asked.

The question seemed to throw Troy off his game. “I don’t follow them around, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Bree made a notation, then tapped her pen on the pad. “So who else could have been driving your Porsche?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess someone broke in and stole it.”

“There was no sign of a break-in,” Bree pointed out again. “And you don’t have a security system.”

Morgan held up a hand to stop Troy from responding.

The interview had already covered the basics.

This was a rehash. “We’re not speculating.

My client has told you where he was and explained Sunday’s phone calls and texts with Kelly.

He has nothing to add at this time.” Morgan shoved her legal pad into her tote.

The door opened, and Matt Flynn returned. He whispered in Bree’s ear. She looked up. “We have a search warrant for the cabin. If you provide a key, we won’t have to damage your door.”

Morgan had known it was coming, but damn .

Troy stammered, “You can’t—”

Morgan silenced him. “They can. Do you have a key?”

He couldn’t stop the search. Bree might not have enough evidence to arrest him at this time, but she could show probable cause for a warrant. There was no point in protesting.

Reluctantly, Troy pulled a key ring from his pocket. He selected a key, worked it off the ring, and handed it across the table.

“Thank you.” Bree accepted it.

If Troy was telling the truth, then the cabin wouldn’t hold any incriminating evidence. But the case already suggested that someone had broken into his full-time residence, stolen his car, and planted the murder weapon in it. Had someone been in his cabin as well?

Even if the box cutter found in Troy’s vehicle was the murder weapon, the official autopsy and forensic reports would take time.

Time that Morgan would use to conduct her own investigation.

Bree would be pursuing all evidence to solve the murder.

Morgan could concentrate on leads that concerned Troy.

Everyone rose. Bree tucked her notepad under her arm. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

She was always a professional, which was refreshing. Morgan wouldn’t have to worry about Bree pulling something underhanded. But if she thought Troy was guilty, she would go all in to prove it.

Morgan said nothing else to Troy until they were in the parking lot. The media clogged the sidewalk. Morgan let Lance part the sea of reporters.

A short woman slipped under his arm. “Are you a suspect, Mr. Ryder?”

With some clients, Morgan would allow them to make a quick declarative statement of innocence, acting indignant at the suggestion that they were guilty.

But Troy’s aloof attitude might not play well.

She stepped in front of him and leaned closer to a mic.

“Everyone in the life of a murder victim is naturally questioned. I wouldn’t respect an investigator who didn’t talk to all of the people currently close to Ms. Gibson.

My client is fully cooperating with the sheriff’s department.

Mr. Ryder wants nothing more than justice for Kelly.

Our thoughts and prayers are with the Gibson family as they grieve. ”

With that, she herded Troy away from the microphones, tucking an arm around his shoulders as if he too were grieving and needed support. When they were out of range, she leaned close to his ear. “Did you drive here or did the sheriff escort you?”

He nodded toward an SUV at the rear of the lot. “I drove.”

Good for him for not letting the sheriff intimidate him into a patrol car. The optics were better if he came and left under his own power. One photo of Troy in the back of a cop car would imprint his guilt in the minds of the public—all potential members of a jury.

She said, “Don’t talk to anyone about the case. No one at all. Not your mother, your best friend, or your trusted mechanic. All questions are to be deflected with ‘My thoughts are with Kelly’s family. I hope the sheriff’s office finds her killer and brings them to justice.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes.” But his jaw tightened as he said it, indicating he didn’t like her instructions. Or perhaps he didn’t like being told what to do. “I didn’t do anything wrong, but it feels like I’m already on the defense.”

“That’s because you are,” Lance said. “But Morgan is the best, so do what she says.”

“It doesn’t seem right.” Troy shook his head. “What now?”

“You come to the office. We’ll take care of paperwork, my retainer, et cetera, and review more details while the sheriff’s office finishes searching your house.”

He opened his mouth to complain, but Morgan shut him down.

“I’ll examine the warrant itself in case there’s any cause to have evidence thrown out.

” But Morgan doubted that would happen. Sheriff Taggert was thorough with paperwork and very good at her job.

“But you need to stay out of their way. After they’re finished, you go home.

Lay low. No press. No social media, and as I said before, no talking to anyone about the case.

That includes emails and messages. I don’t want you running around town, where people will ask you questions. ”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” he protested. His voice rang with disbelief.

“I know, but contrary to what the Constitution says, we need to prove that you’re innocent. Otherwise, you might avoid prison, but Kelly’s death will follow you for the rest of your life.”

His face paled and he nodded. “I’ll stay at home. I won’t talk to anyone. It’s mostly what I do anyway.”

“I’m sorry about your wife,” Lance said.

Troy folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not good with people, but she didn’t care.” For a few seconds, his grief played across his face. Then he wiped it away. “I have to go.”

They climbed into their vehicles, and Troy drove off.

Morgan fastened her seat belt. “You didn’t know about his wife?”

Lance kept one eye on the rearview mirror. “No. Look, he’s amazing with computers, but social skills are not his strength. He’s not a people person, but he gives a ton of money to the youth foundation. He practically supports the youth hockey team.”

“I get it.” Morgan toed off her heels. “But I hope we don’t go to trial, because an inability to elicit empathy from a jury could sink him.”