Page 36

Noelle’s department line buzzed as she ate lunch at her work desk in the sheriff’s department. She swallowed a bite of Cuban pork and picked up the receiver. “Marshall.”

“Detective Marshall, you’ve got a visitor,” said the deputy at the front desk.

“What’s the name?” she asked.

“Derrick Bell.”

She froze, the name reverberating in her brain.

No.

Who the fuck . . .

Anger swamped her. With shaking fingers she pulled up the lobby camera view on her computer and discovered Derrick’s brother, Jason, looking directly at the camera, a cocky half smile on his face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Her heart sped up as she stared, and she fought to keep down her lunch.

She hadn’t seen Jason Bell since she’d left Sacramento.

The last time she’d seen him, he’d confronted her in a restaurant as she ate dinner with Lucia.

He’d stopped at their table and acted super happy to see her, going on and on about how she never visited his family anymore, his loud false tone making other diners turn their heads.

Noelle had whispered for him to leave, but instead he’d spoken louder about how much she must miss her murdered husband.

Lucia had started to cry.

“Just tell the police what happened to Derrick,” he’d hissed at her, and then he’d shot a glare at Lucia and walked away. Noelle asked for their check, and they left behind their half-eaten meals, no longer hungry.

Lucia’s terrified face was burned in Noelle’s memory. Noelle had been angrier that Jason had scared her sister than that he’d claimed Noelle knew what had happened.

Both Jason and his mother had consistently told the media that Noelle was hiding something. Moving out of state had been her escape.

“Detective?” asked the officer through the phone.

“Have someone put him in conference room three,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

Unlike the stark interview rooms, this one felt welcoming with soft seating and a coffeepot.

The department used it for victims’ families.

As much as she’d love to throw Jason in a room with a two-way mirror and a locking door, she would take the high road.

Why is he here?

She closed her eyes, took several calming breaths, and then checked her hair in the mirror on the back of her door. It was perfect. But she heard Derrick’s voice stating it was too noticeable.

I haven’t thought about that in a long time.

Taking her time, she touched up her lipstick, thankful she’d worn her confidence-inspiring dark-plum pantsuit.

She clipped her detective’s badge to her belt—a completely unnecessary move since she already wore the required photo ID on her lanyard, but she’d earned the badge and wanted it visible to Jason.

She took black high heels out of her desk drawer.

They’d been there since last week, when she’d swapped them out for flats to visit the jail.

She was currently wearing lower heels, but slipping into this red-soled pair was magic.

Instant élan.

Heels on, she strode down the hall, tamping down her anger at Jason’s stupid ploy with Derrick’s name. From the corner of her eye, she saw a deputy do a startled double take as she went by, and she concentrated on relaxing her face.

Don’t let him see you sweat.

She had no doubt Jason planned to intimidate her. He had never been her friend. The vibe she had always received from him was one of disdain and reluctant tolerance.

Exactly what she planned to deliver today.

She opened the door and strode in. Jason stood beside a chair, hands in his pockets, clearly unwilling to sit and put his eye level below hers.

But her heels placed him there anyway. He’d never been as tall as Derrick.

Jason looked the same but older. A bit of silver at the temples and deeper lines around his eyes. A softness under the chin. The gold band on his left hand surprised her.

That poor woman.

Odd that I didn’t get a wedding invitation.

The thought made her smile. “Why are you here?” she asked, lifting her chin to make her eyes even higher.

“The FBI interviewed us last week. They said they were coming here.”

“Correct.”

“I wanted to be certain you told the truth.”

She rolled her eyes at his haughty tone. “You came all the way up here because you believed I’d tell you what I said to the FBI?”

“We’re all in this together.”

Noelle blinked. Then laughed.

That’s a new line.

“What is this truth I’m supposed to tell the FBI?” she asked, impatience in her tone.

“That your ex-husband killed my brother.”

Noelle had heard this theory several times over the past decade, and she accepted some of the blame for the speculation.

Two years after Derrick died, she’d had a one-night stand with her ex-husband, Brendon, after meeting him for dinner.

Someone had seen them go back to his house and told the Bell family.

Noelle blew up when she later discovered the source had been a private detective Jason had hired to follow her.

At the time Brendon had been single, and Noelle had been extremely lonely and not ready to date or meet someone new. Their dinner and conversation had felt comfortable, like slipping into a favorite soft sweatshirt.

She had no regrets other than the intense scrutiny Brendon suffered after the Bells made the story public.

Noelle looked at the ceiling, counting to ten in her head. “Brendon did not kill Derrick. It was thoroughly investigated several times.”

“I know you paid him nineteen thousand dollars.”

“It was nine thousand dollars, and the police were fully aware of the circumstances behind it. You know all these facts, Jason. When will you drop this harassment?”

“When I have justice for my brother.”

Noelle bit her cheek at the dramatic martyred look on his face.

“You barely got along with Derrick. In fact, I suspect you hated him a lot of the time.” She’d witnessed many arguments between the brothers.

Her theory was that their issues started during Jason’s high school and college football career, when he’d lorded it over his younger brother.

But then Derrick became a rising political star, leaving Jason in the dust, his football years irrelevant.

“He was still my brother.”

“Early on, your mother told me how much it hurt that the two of you fought so much. Lora saw it, and I saw it too. When you weren’t putting Derrick down, you turned your sour attitude on me.”

“All you care about is that you got his money. Money that should have stayed in the family. You don’t seem to care if his murderer is ever found.” Jason’s face was red.

“How can you even say that? He was my husband. But I’m not going to give weight to conspiracy theories.

Especially the ones that involve me.” She ignored his comments about money.

As much as they didn’t like it, she’d been family, and his crack about the money staying in the family was nothing new. She’d grown used to it.

“You’ve done nothing to help find who did it.”

Did he really just say that?

She’d sat through hours and hours of interviews with investigators, answering all their repetitive questions, walked the scene with the FBI and county detectives several times, spent endless sleepless nights trying to recall what had happened, and even tried hypnotism.

Noelle held up a hand. There was no point in continuing to talk. Jason would never think differently until the murder was solved. She was wasting her time.

She went to the door, opened it wide, and stepped back to indicate he should leave. She wanted to kick his ass down the hallway, but she had to walk him to the lobby. No one was allowed behind the locked doors without an escort.

Jason didn’t move.

“Leave.” Her voice held quiet anger.

He jammed his hands farther into his pockets and looked around the small room as if for something else he could do. Noelle knew his little brain did not want to do anything she said.

After five seconds of their silent battle of wills, Noelle stepped into the hall and motioned over a deputy. “Mr. Bell requires an escort out of the building,” she told the young woman, the quiet anger still filling her tone and clipping her words.

The deputy’s eyes crinkled in understanding. “Got it.” She moved into the room. “Come with me, Mr. Bell.”

This should be good.

When Jason didn’t move, the small deputy rested her hand on her duty belt, several inches from her gun. His eyes followed the movement. “This way, sir,” she said.

Jason strode out of the room, avoiding Noelle’s gaze. The deputy returned Noelle’s grin as she followed.

“Thank you, Deputy.”

“All in a day’s work, Detective.”

Noelle returned to her office and closed the door, leaning heavily against it. For a brief moment insecurity swamped her, a remnant of her time with Derrick and the rest of the Bells. She mentally shoved it away and stood tall.

No one has the right to break me.

She plopped down in her office chair and lifted one foot, rotating it from side to side, admiring the shiny black shoe. “What a waste of my time. And his. Why the fuck would he come all the way up here when he knows his story is bullshit?”

Her shoe didn’t answer.

But it calmed her as she imagined grinding the narrow heel into his foot.

You’ve done nothing to help find who did it.

Jason’s words echoed in her head, and a small wave of guilt touched her.

“There’s no point in telling the police about my stupid dreams,” she stated to her foot.

She’d had a lot of dreams.

They mean nothing.

The worst one recurred frequently.

In it she pulled up at the house she shared with Derrick on the day he died.

Lucia’s minivan was parked in the driveway.

Daisy lay motionless in a pool of blood just inside the front door.

Her grandfather stood over Daisy, a rifle clenched in his hands.

They’re just dreams.