Page 96 of Cold as Hell

“You were a suspect.” I give a grunt as I find a boulder and rest against it. “The victim’s current or former partner is always a suspect. You know why? Because half the time women are murdered, that’s who did it. If you want an apology, you aren’t getting one. We had to consider you, but obviously, we were also considering other suspects, since you aren’t the one we came back to arrest.”

“What are you doing?”

I think he means why am I not with Dalton, then I see he’s frowning at me. I have one knee up against the boulder and I’m leaning into the stretch as a contraction builds.

“It helps, okay?” I say. “At this point, please don’t question the pregnant lady. She’s in a hell of a lot of pain and needs two minutes to rest before she gets her ass to the clinic.”

I stretch, and my body whispers that it would like to stay here. Just lean into this rock. Lean a little more, squat down—

I quickly straighten. Okay, I really need to get to the clinic.

“Let’s—” I begin.

“I loved her,” he says. “I know it didn’t look like it, but we were going through a rough patch. If I didn’t love her, I wouldn’t have come here. I wouldn’t have admitted I screwed around and expected her to get her revenge and been okay with that. I wanted to fix things, whatever it took.”

I nod and summon all the sympathy I can muster with this pain arcing through me. “I know. I’m sorry. I really am.” I look toward town. “We should get moving.”

“You don’t need me to carry you, right?”

I could almost laugh at his expression. “No, I’m fine. Walking it out feels good.”

I start down the path, only to hear him behind me, still standing in place.

“It happened out here, didn’t it?” he says.

I want to just keep walking, but I can’t do that to him. So I glance back and nod. Then I continue on.

“Where exactly?” he says.

When I don’t answer—because I’m breathing through a contraction—he says, “I have a right to know.” A two-second pause, and his voice drops. “I didn’t mean it like that. I want to know. Maybe it would help.”

I nod, focused on breathing in and out. I can see the town buildings through the trees.

“Is it near here?” he says. “Can you show me? Quickly?”

I slow. With the contraction ebbing, I want to snap that I’m having a baby—literally, right now—and this really isn’t the time. I don’t say that, not because it wouldn’t be fair to Grant, but because the hairs on my neck are rising.

I turn slowly.

Grant’s peering out at the lake. “Over there, right? Not far. I heard it wasn’t far. Can you just show me? Quickly?”

Can I take him farther from town? Out toward the lake? Past the trees? Where no one can see us?

Anders and I thought it was safe leaving me with Grant because he wasn’t the killer. Are we sure of that? Absolutely sure?

Jerome must have murdered Lynn. Anything else would be too great a coincidence, especially given what just happened to Yolanda.

But what if Jerome wasn’t acting alone?

My hand slides down toward the talisman of my gun, just a touch to remind me I have it.

Except I don’t have it.

I gave my gun to Jacob.

“Casey?” Grant says, frowning.

He never calls me by my name. It’s always “Detective Butler,” often with a twist of derision.