Page 25 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

Bree was still processing Morgan’s information, but she had other responsibilities beyond the investigation. She spent a few hours in her office reviewing paperwork and emails with a fresh cup of coffee.

Matt walked in. “You missed lunch.”

“Probably.” She tapped her phone to check the time. Two o’clock. “I’ll eat when we’re done with the Gibson interview. Did you get the statements from Morgan’s witnesses?”

“I did.” Matt read from his notes. “The witnesses confirmed everything Morgan said. Harrison was seen at Kelly’s house between four and five on Monday afternoon. And the blond woman saw Troy hit his head on a branch around noon on the lake trail.”

“He still had time to kill Kelly,” Bree said. “But at least her statement verifies that he was at his cabin that day and how he injured his head.” She paused. “Harrison should be here shortly. I sent a deputy to collect him, but he insisted on driving himself.”

“Where’s Todd?” Matt pulled a protein bar from his pocket and tossed it to her.

“Tied up with a multivehicle accident.” She caught the bar, opened the wrapper, and tried a bite. “Tastes like a candy bar.” She smoothed the wrapper and squinted at the ingredients. “Are you sure this is better for me?”

“No.” Matt laughed. “But it’s better than nothing.”

“I like it.” She ate the bar in four bites. “Unfortunately, I want to eat a whole bag of them.”

“I’m getting coffee. Want some?” Matt asked.

“Nah, I’m good.” Bree drained her mug. “I’m already overcaffeinated.”

“Then none for you,” Matt called as he left her office.

A few minutes later, someone knocked on the doorframe, and Marge walked in. “Harrison Gibson is here. He brought an attorney. I put them in room one.”

“Damn.” Bree had known that he would secure legal counsel, that common sense would eventually overshadow the man’s bravado, and he’d realize he was in deep trouble.

But she wished she could have had one more crack at him before he lawyered up.

“We’re also expecting Jeff Burke to come in this afternoon. ”

“Want him in room two?”

“Yes, thank you,” Bree said. “Oh, Marge. I have something else for you. It’s not part of the case. It’s not official business at all, but you know everyone who’s worked for the county for the last few decades.”

“ Almost everyone,” Marge qualified with a chuckle.

Bree pulled Adam’s sketch from her messenger bag and placed it on her desk in front of her admin. “Do you recognize her?”

Marge lifted her reading glasses from the chain around her neck and set them on her nose. Leaning over, she studied the drawing. “Maybe? She looks a little familiar, but I can’t place her.”

Bree shifted against the back of her chair. “She would be older now.”

“How much older?”

“Could be as long as thirty years.”

Marge removed the glasses from her nose. “Is this a cold case?”

“No.”

“Can you give me some context? Why do you need to find her?”

Bree sighed. “I think she knew my mother.”

“Oh.” Marge replaced her glasses and assessed the sketch again. “Can I make a copy?”

“Yes.”

Sketch in hand, Marge stared at it while she turned toward the door. “Do you have any idea who she might be?”

“I don’t want to influence your memory.”

“But it might help narrow down who I’m looking for. Thirty years is a long time.”

“ Ok . Maybe a social worker or something like that?” Bree suggested. “I think they met, and just knowing my mother’s situation, I’m making assumptions that might not be valid.”

“But they make sense. Is it all right if I show this to other people?”

“Yes.”

“ Ok , then.” Marge considered the drawing again. “Give me a few days.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, and I mean that.” Marge gave the paper a shake. “I’ll copy this and leave the original on your desk.”

“Thanks again. I’ll be in the interview room with Harrison Gibson.

” Marge had worked for the county for as long as Bree had been alive.

Marge had more contacts than the governor.

If anyone could find the woman who’d met with Bree’s mother—if she existed and if Bree’s memory was remotely accurate—then it would be Marge.

Feeling like she’d done what she could, Bree set the distraction aside and headed for the interview room. She stopped at the conference room and collected Matt on the way.

A tall man in a nice suit—the attorney, she assumed—sat at the interview table. Harrison paced the floor behind him.

Bree slid into the seat opposite the empty chair, with Matt facing the lawyer. Harrison reluctantly sat across from her.

“This interview is being recorded.” Bree did the introductions, read the Miranda sheet, and slid the acknowledgment across the table.

Harrison signed it and sat back, folding his arms over his chest. He was obviously trying to look confident, but Bree could see his apprehension in the twitchiness of his fingers and shifting of his weight on the chair.

The attorney rested his forearms on the table. “My client is here to cooperate with your investigation in the death of his wife. He wants nothing more than to help catch her killer.”

Bree leaned forward. “Then why did he lie to me?”

Harrison opened his mouth. The attorney stopped him from speaking with a hand on his forearm. “You’ll have to elaborate.”

“Number one,” Bree began. “When we asked Harrison when he’d last seen Kelly, he said at the attorney’s office a few weeks ago. But that’s not true, is it?”

Harrison squirmed.

Bree continued. “You went to the Pilates studio she attended last week. You waited outside in the parking lot to ambush her, didn’t you?”

Harrison’s face reddened. “I—”

His attorney cut him off. “Don’t answer that.”

“We have the altercation on video.” Bree woke her laptop and turned it to face Harrison and his lawyer. She leaned over the machine and tapped “Play.” The video feed from the Pilates studio parking lot camera rolled. “As you can see, this recording is date- and time-stamped.”

All color drained from Harrison’s face as he watched. At the end, Bree tapped the pause button.

The attorney’s face pinched into a sour expression. “Where did you get this video?”

“The Pilates studio,” Bree said.

Harrison leaned close to his lawyer’s ear. “It’s owned by Kelly’s friend. She hates me.”

Despite his whisper, Bree heard every word.

The attorney made a note on his legal pad. “But the studio is owned by someone biased against my client. The date could have been altered. It won’t be difficult to refute.”

“The studio owner witnessed the entire incident,” Bree said.

The attorney scowled. “I’d like a copy.”

“I will forward a copy when and if it becomes appropriate.” Discovery rules for evidence didn’t apply until a suspect was formally charged and their attorney submitted a written request. Bree didn’t want details and evidence from the case leaked before the investigation was complete.

For now, all evidence would remain under wraps.

“Why didn’t you tell us about this?” Bree pointed to the computer screen, where the paused video showed him looming over Kelly. His face was frozen in an angry scowl.

Bree expected the attorney to object to the question, considering he wanted to dispute the validity of the evidence, but he didn’t.

Harrison sat back. His shoulders slumped. He shifted on his chair and stared at the table’s edge for a few seconds.

Bree waited, letting the silence play out and hoping Harrison would be compelled to fill it.

He looked away, then brushed a knuckle across his nose. “I’m going on a ski trip next weekend, and my gear is still at the house. I just wanted to pick it up. That’s all. I couldn’t contact her directly because she blocked my number.”

Matt picked up the thread. “You weren’t supposed to contact her at all, were you?”

“No,” Harrison admitted.

“Why did she block your number?” Matt leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, using his body to pressure Harrison’s personal bubble.

“Because she wanted to make everything difficult,” he snapped.

The attorney touched his arm. Harrison flashed an irritated glance at him.

Matt kept pushing. “So you didn’t call or text her excessively?”

“Don’t answer that,” the attorney warned. “It’s subjective.”

Bree made a mental note to check Kelly’s historical phone records for excessive calls and texts from Harrison. “How were you supposed to contact Kelly?”

“Through our lawyers.” Harrison straightened his spine and belligerence lifted his chin. “But I didn’t want to pay hundreds of bucks to arrange to pick up my boots and shit.”

Some people think rules don’t apply to them.

“There was no restraining order against my client,” the attorney pointed out. “While he was encouraged to communicate through their mutual legal counsel, there was no penalty for not doing so. My client didn’t do anything illegal.”

“But it did turn out to be a bad decision,” Matt said.

Harrison mashed his lips flat but didn’t respond.

“Did you pick up your stuff?” Bree asked.

“No.” Harrison folded his arms across his chest. “Is that it?”

Not by a long shot.

Bree folded her hands on the table. “That’s not all, and frankly, it’s not the biggest issue. Let’s talk about the day Kelly was murdered.”

The attorney frowned. Harrison’s gaze darted from Bree to Matt and back again. Was that a flash of panic in his eyes?

Bree continued. “You claimed you left the trampoline park at four thirty on Monday. But that’s not true, is it?”

Harrison seemed to shrink. “I said around four thirty, not exactly.”

His attorney hushed him with a look, then asked Bree, “What time do you think he left?”

“You’re clearly shown on the surveillance video of the trampoline park leaving at three thirty-two.”

The attorney cut in. “My client used the word around precisely because he was unsure of the exact time. He didn’t lie. He was mistaken.”