Page 26 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

“Really?” Bree paused, letting Harrison sweat for a few seconds. “We also know you didn’t leave Marina’s house at six o’clock, as you previously claimed. We have two witnesses that put you on Kelly’s porch between 4:06 and 4:55 p.m.—during the time window in which she was killed.”

Harrison looked like he was going to pass out. Could a man get any paler? The attorney’s face froze.

“Did you drop off the boys at Marina’s first, or did you take them to Kelly’s house with you?” Bree asked.

“I dropped them at home,” Harrison squeaked, as if his throat were tight.

“Did you ask Marina to lie for you about the times?” Bree watched his eyes for signs of guilt. Would he feel bad for involving his girlfriend? Instead of guilty, he looked caught.

His attorney saved him. “Did either Mr. Gibson or Ms. Maxwell state that they knew the times precisely, or did they use words like around or about to imply they weren’t sure about the exact time?”

Bree stalled a knee-jerk retort. “They weren’t off by a few minutes. An hour is a long time.”

The attorney looked nonplussed. He waved a hand. “Busy people managing two young children lose track of time.”

Bree addressed Harrison. “You didn’t tell me you went to Kelly’s house on Monday.”

“Did you specifically ask him if he had been at the house on Monday?” the attorney asked.

Before Bree could respond, Harrison chimed in. “She asked me when I last saw Kelly. I didn’t see her on Monday, so I didn’t lie.” He looked proud of himself.

“As my client clarified, the issue was with the phrasing of your question,” the lawyer said. “Not his answer.”

“Feels like a telling omission to me. Why did you really go to Kelly’s house that day, Harrison?” Bree waited.

Harrison’s swagger didn’t last. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he didn’t blurt out a response as Bree had hoped he would.

“Did you kill her?” Matt pressed. “Did you kill Kelly?”

“No!” Harrison leaped to his feet, sending the chair skittering backward, its metal feet scraping the tile.

Bree rose slowly and uttered one word. “Sit.”

Without breaking eye contact, Harrison eased himself downward, reaching back and tugging the chair under his ass.

“You’ll need to provide copies of those witness statements.” The attorney’s face had gone blank.

His courtroom face, Bree assumed.

“You’ll get everything on schedule,” she said vaguely.

She would not allow the witnesses’ names to be outed any earlier than necessary.

She read the quote from her notes. “Harrison was banging on Kelly’s door between four and five p.m. on Monday, yelling, ‘Come on, Kelly. Don’t be such a bitch.

Let me in.’” As she finished, she looked up and watched the hint of remaining color drain from Harrison’s face.

“I didn’t— I—” Harrison stammered.

“That wasn’t a question,” the lawyer said. “Therefore, you don’t need to answer.”

“What did you do?” Bree leaned forward, pressing the question with her physical movement. “Did you keep knocking until she gave in?”

“No. I left.” But Harrison’s voice was shaky. “I went to the liquor store and bought a six-pack.”

“Did you use a credit card or get a receipt?” Bree asked. If a liquor store clerk and/or surveillance camera verified that he went to the store and his shoes weren’t covered in Kelly’s blood, that would be a factor in Harrison’s favor.

“Maybe.” He looked panicked. “I was only at her door for like, five minutes.”

“Stop talking,” the attorney said.

But Harrison couldn’t. “She was supposed to give me my ski gear. That’s it! And she either went out or wouldn’t open her goddamned door!”

The room went silent except for Harrison’s ragged breathing. Bree didn’t move as he wheezed, the truth sinking into his thick skull. His mouth dropped open, and he inhaled, preparing to speak again.

His attorney cut him off. “Shut. Up.”

But Harrison was clearly beyond following instructions. Horror shone from his eyes. “She was inside, wasn’t she?”

Bree didn’t answer. If Harrison didn’t kill her, she could have been bleeding to death while he threw a temper tantrum over his ski gear on her porch. Kelly could very likely have already been dead. Was the killer still inside the house at that time?

Harrison’s gaze turned inward. Was he reliving the moment, picturing Kelly dead or dying?

The attorney stared at Bree as he addressed his client. “Do not say a word.”

“We know you were seeing Marina before you left Kelly,” Matt said. “How long was your affair going on with her?”

“Do not answer that,” the lawyer said.

“Can you really blame him?” Matt asked, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Kelly was your partner for a couple of decades, but the years affected her, right? She wasn’t the hot young thing you married anymore. She aged. She looked like a normal middle-aged woman. How fair is that?”

“That’s not how it was.” Harrison’s pale face flushed an unhealthy color of red.

Bree wanted to think he was ashamed, but she doubted it. He was mad that they were calling him on his bullshit. “Then she expected you to keep paying for a house you weren’t living in. Again, totally unfair.”

Harrison couldn’t hold it in. “She could have at least gotten a job.”

“Quiet!” the lawyer admonished. “Do you have any more actual questions, Sheriff? Or just conjecture?”

“Oh, I have questions.” Bree leaned forward. “How badly did you want to get out from under paying the mortgage, Harrison? Did you think you could collect Kelly’s life insurance, sell the house, then set up house with your new girlfriend?”

Harrison’s eyes slowly lifted to meet Bree’s. “I didn’t kill her.”

“And yet her death makes your life easier, doesn’t it?” Matt said, his voice heavy with disgust. “You’re free to do as you please now.”

“Really?” Harrison shouted.

The lawyer tried to intervene. “Stop!”

But Harrison’s anger drove him to respond. “How am I supposed to sell a house that someone was murdered in? I bet you didn’t think of that.”

His point wasn’t the flex he thought it was.

“Are you going to arrest my client?” The lawyer looked like he wanted to duct-tape his client’s mouth closed.

“Not at this time,” Bree said, wishing she could have said yes.

“Then this interview is over.” The lawyer stood. “We’re leaving. Don’t call my client again unless you have an arrest warrant.”

Bree didn’t have enough evidence to arrest Harrison.

Opportunity and proximity weren’t sufficient, not even with his omissions and lies.

Physical evidence would add relevance to Harrison’s false statements.

If only she worked on the TV set of CSI or Bones , where an obscure piece of sand found on the body would unequivocally tie Harrison to his wife’s murder, but reality was never as simple as Hollywood crime.

She’d yet to solve a case in thirty minutes.

She stood and pressed both palms on the table. “If you did kill Kelly, I will prove it, and you will go to prison.”