Page 36 of Beyond Her Reach (Bree Taggert #10)

“Only if you have new evidence.” Morgan slid her legal pad into her tote and steered Troy from the room, not waiting for the sheriff to open the door, sending the message that they didn’t need permission to leave.

But theatrics aside, Morgan knew damned well that Troy’s freedom could be temporary.

If one piece of evidence connected him to the second murder . ..

In the hallway, Troy stammered, “I don’t—”

Morgan cut him off. “Not here.”

In the doorway to the lobby, Morgan passed Troy to Lance. “Take him to the car. I’ll be right out.”

Morgan backtracked to the ladies’ room. As she washed her hands, the door opened, and Bree walked in. They made eye contact in the mirror.

Morgan chose her words carefully. “Hypothetically, if a witness is determined not to be of legal status, do they get reported if they cooperate with law enforcement?”

The sheriff sighed. “There are never any guarantees. Murder trials are public spectacles.”

Morgan read between the lines. Bree wouldn’t pursue Maria’s legal status, but the media would certainly find out and report on it. The prosecutor would know. Politics would come into play, and the sheriff could not control the DA’s office or federal agencies.

Morgan dried her hands on a paper towel and set the case aside. “How are the kids?”

“Good. Yours?”

“Also good. All of them are in school full-time this year.”

“And how’s that going?”

Morgan smiled. “So far, so good.”

“I’m glad to hear it. It was nice to see you,” Bree said.

“Same.” With a nod, Morgan left the room.

In the lobby, she eyed the reporters clogging the parking lot.

She wasn’t usually a proponent of no comment responses or avoiding the press, but today, she anticipated answering their questions would prove worse for Troy.

She didn’t have enough information on the case to make any valid points in his defense.

A deputy said, “You can use the back door if you want.”

“Thank you.” Morgan texted Lance to pick her up on the street behind the building.

Then she followed the deputy through the station to the back door and slipped out.

She slunk around the electronic arm barrier and hustled to the street.

The minivan drew up to the curb, and she stepped into the passenger seat.

She turned and looked through the rear window. “I don’t think anyone saw me.”

“They’re all waiting for you at the front door.” Lance accelerated, leaving the station behind.

Morgan relaxed. She turned to Troy, who was staring out the window, his expression stunned.

“When was the last time you talked to Janet?” Morgan asked.

“A few months ago, when she broke up with me.”

Morgan asked, “You didn’t call or text her afterward?”

Troy looked out the window. “I drank too much vodka the next night and called her. We argued. No,” he corrected himself.

“I yelled, and she ended the call.” He leaned back against the headrest. “I tried to call her to apologize the next day, but she’d blocked me.

I wasn’t angry as much as frustrated. I liked Janet.

I know vasectomies are reversible, but I don’t know if I can even manage a relationship, let alone be a parent.

I’m not good with people, in case you haven’t noticed.

” He hesitated. “My wife was the only person who got me. Anyway, after Janet, I changed my dating app parameters to only include women over forty who already have children. I figured I have a better chance of finding someone who doesn’t want to start a new family. ”

At least he’s being honest with me. Morgan nodded. “We can explain that call if we have to, but only if the sheriff or prosecutor mentions it. They have your phone records, but they won’t have content, unless you left her a message?”

“No. No message.”

“Good. Then the phone company will have a record of the call, but they won’t have the content. We can explain a call or two at the time of a breakup as normal without volunteering that it was an argument.” She hoped. “At some point, your backstory will need to come out.”

“No,” Troy said. “I won’t use my wife’s death to drum up pity.”

“If you get charged with killing two women you dated, you can be sure your wife’s death will come into play,” Morgan said. Bree would undoubtedly pull Troy’s late wife’s death certificate. “Think about it. Three women in relationships with you have died.”

“But ... it was her heart.”

“Yes, but the questions will be asked. Probably repeatedly.”

Troy scrubbed both hands down his face.

Morgan changed the topic. “Now, let’s talk about that sock. Could the blood have come from the cut on your forehead?”

“No. I only wear black crew socks. I don’t send my laundry out, and I don’t have guests. I have no idea how it ended up in my hamper. Could it have been planted, maybe by the sheriff’s office? They seem to want me to be guilty.”

“I’ve known corrupt police in the past, but I’ve never heard any rumors to suggest Sheriff Taggert would do that. Our best defense is to work with actual evidence.”

“Well, I’m telling you that the blood on the sock can’t be mine.” Frustration bubbled into Troy’s voice.

“Then we can hope that it could potentially be matched to the real killer.”

“Oh.” The idea seemed to calm Troy.

But in order for DNA to match the real killer, first they had to find the real killer.