Page 29

Chapter Twenty-Eight

S hane stared at his laptop, the subject line from Taylor’s email catching his eye like a flashing neon sign in the dark. “We need to talk—urgent.” He clicked it, his pulse quickening as he scanned the lines. The bombshell hit him hard, but, before he could process it fully, Dawkins’ voice echoed in his mind: he and Tuffin were to question Cotton Timmons together. And now, Timmons’ lawyer was in the mix, already making things difficult before the interview even began.

Tamping down his emotions, Shane grabbed his phone and dialed Deputy Kuno. “I need you to find Missy Ann Colburn. Right now. Pick her up quietly and bring her in. Don’t spook her. Got it?”

Kuno hesitated for only a moment before replying, “Doesn’t she live up near Atlanta?

“Yep. Which means you need to get on the road now.”

“On it.”

Shane hung up, pushed Taylor’s email out of his mind, and walked into the conference room where the attorney, a wiry man with sharp features named Gerald Reese, was already seated next to Timmons. Reese was flipping through a stack of papers with a bored expression, but Shane knew better than to underestimate him. He was one of those defense lawyers who thrived on theatrics, always one step ahead of the prosecution.

Tuffin gave Shane an irritated look.

“Detective Weaver,” Reese said without looking up. “Before we begin, let’s set some ground rules. My client will not answer repetitive questions, nor will he tolerate harassment. You ask a question; you get one clear response. Anything beyond that, and this is over. Understood?”

Shane exchanged a glance with Tuffin, who shrugged. “Let’s get on with it,” Shane said curtly, dropping into a chair across from them.

Tuffin opened with polite, measured questions about Timmons’ recent travel, his property, and his relationships with the Colburns. Reese sat silent, his eyes darting between Tuffin and his client, but it was clear he wasn’t overly concerned.

Then Shane leaned forward, his voice sharp. “Let’s talk about those property plats we found at your place, Cotton. Why were you mapping out the Colburn property?”

Timmons’ smirk faltered. “I wasn’t. I was checking my fence line. Their damn dog kept getting into my yard, tearing up my garden. You’ve heard about that, haven’t you?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“Maybe you should be more concerned with your own dog, the way you care—or should I say don’t care—for him, Mr. Timmons,” Shane said sarcastically.

Reese held up a hand. “Careful with the tone, Detective. My client has answered your question.”

Shane ignored him and pulled out a photo of the bloody rag they’d recovered. “Explain this.”

Timmons rolled his eyes. “I hit my thumb with a hammer putting up chicken wire. You want to process it? Go ahead. It’s my blood, and you’ll find chicken crap on it, too.”

Reese tilted his head and gave Shane a mock-sympathetic smile. “Shame your department’s wasting resources on this nonsense, Detective.”

Shane didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he pulled out another item: the packing list titled “Bug Out List.”

Timmons snorted. “I always call it that. It’s just my way of saying I’m getting out of town. You’re reaching, Detective.”

“Why the one-way flight to Colorado, then?” Shane pressed.

Timmons shrugged, looking genuinely exasperated. “Because it’s cheaper to book a one-way last minute, and I can grab a red-eye home when I’m done. What’s the big deal?”

Shane leaned closer, lowering his voice. “The big deal is how your DNA ended up in the Colburns’ house. You’re telling me you’ve never been inside, yet there it is, tying you to the scene. You want to explain that?”

Timmons’ face darkened, his fists clenching. “I’ve already told you—I’ve never been in their damn house. If my DNA’s there, someone planted it. I didn’t kill them.”

Reese placed a firm hand on Timmons’ arm, a silent signal to rein in his anger. “Detective, you’re attempting to paint my client as a murderer with no evidence beyond speculation. We’ll entertain a few more questions, but tread carefully.”

Shane pushed further, walking Timmons through the timeline of the murders. “First, you get into the house, maybe through a back door. Then you corner the Colburns, and things escalate. You grab a weapon?—”

“Enough!” Timmons slammed his fists on the table, his face red. “That’s a damn lie, and you know it!”

“Oh, is it, though?” Shane said. “Let’s talk about how you caught felony charges for abuse on your wife and kids. Don’t tell me you don’t have the capacity for violence, Timmons. It’s in the records, black and white.”

Before Shane could press harder, Reese stood abruptly, cutting in sharply. “We’re done here. This has gone far enough. My client will not be subjected to your baseless accusations any longer. No more questions for today.”

The room was tense as Reese guided Timmons out. Timmons threw a glare over his shoulder at Shane, muttering, “This isn’t over.”

“Good job, Weaver. Now he’s gone,” Tuffin said, banging his notebook shut. He got up and slammed out the door.

Shane sat back, his jaw tight with frustration. They didn’t have enough—a shaky case wouldn’t hold in court, and, until they got more, they couldn’t risk it.

Letting Timmons go felt like losing, and Shane hated it. He walked out of the room, his mind churning with doubts and anger. The one thing he knew for certain was that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

Shane closed the door to the small interview room, coffee in one hand and a notepad in the other. Missy Ann Colburn sat across the table, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her face betrayed nothing but mild irritation, though Shane knew better than to trust outward appearances.

Thankfully she hadn’t lawyered up.

He slid the coffee across the table to her. “Cream and sugar, just like you asked. Thanks for meeting with me, Missy Ann.”

“Yeah, sure,” she muttered, wrapping her hands around the cup.

Shane took a seat, leaning back casually, but his eyes stayed locked on hers. He read her rights to her before he began. “Let’s start simple. Tell me about your childhood. What was it like growing up in your house?”

Missy Ann’s expression softened, and she gave a small, reminiscent smile. “It was good, you know? Simple. We didn’t have a lot of frivolous things, but we had enough. They were good parents, really. Supportive. They let us figure things out on our own, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Shane pressed.

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I mean, we didn’t get punished much. They weren’t the overly strict type. Except for Seth. Dad was harder on him. Sometimes ... he’d use the belt.”

Shane raised an eyebrow, jotting that down. “Why Seth? Was he a troublemaker?”

Missy Ann shrugged. “He just ... acted out more than we did. When he got into his teenage years, he pushed limits. Maybe because he was the only boy and felt like he had something to prove. I don’t know.”

Shane nodded, switching gears. “What about your little sister, Raya? What was she like growing up?”

Missy Ann scoffed, her smile fading. “She got away with everything. Always the baby of the family, you know?”

“She didn’t get into trouble?”

“No, not really, other than always being moody. She did well in school, but not good enough for any scholarships. My parents would’ve helped her with college, but Raya didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave home or this town, but Mom convinced her to finally get the apartment, thinking it would help her grow up. Later … well, she couldn’t hack it financially. So Mom and Dad bought her that mobile home, set it up for her rent-free. She’s been living there ever since.”

“How’d that make you feel?” Shane asked, watching her reaction closely.

Missy Ann hesitated, her fingers tightening around the coffee cup. “I mean, yeah, I didn’t feel great about it when they told me. Not angry, exactly, but ... frustrated. Mom and Dad had helped Seth, too. With the down payment on his house. But I never took anything from them. I did it on my own. I did tell Mom it was time to think about themselves for once and stop bailing people out. She said she was going to tell Raya and Ronnie they had to start paying rent.”

“Did they ever have that conversation?”

Missy Ann sighed. “Yes. She told them.”

“Did they begin paying?”

“I don’t know. I never brought it up again.”

“Hmm …” Shane said. “I bet it was hard to watch your sister always being babied and getting things she didn’t work for. Then not even to act grateful for it. That had to stick in your craw.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Shane scribbled a note, then looked back up. “Has Raya ever been violent? Or has she been diagnosed with any sort of mental illness?”

Missy Ann’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “No. Why are you asking me stuff like this? You’re not thinking my sister and I had anything to do with this, are you?”

Shane held up a hand, his tone calm. “I’m not thinking anything. Just gathering information.”

Missy Ann crossed her arms, clearly on the defensive now. “I mean—you are way off the trail if you suspect me. And as for Raya, she’s always been a pain in the butt and, yeah, sometimes she was mad at all of us, but not for a minute do I think she’d ever be capable of annihilating her own family.”

Shane decided to give her a pause.

“Excuse me for just a second.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped out into the hallway, texting Deputy Kuno. “ Bring Raya and Ronnie in ASAP. Quietly. Don’t give them a heads-up before you pick them up.”

When he slipped back into the room, Missy Ann was texting. She put the phone down quickly.

“Okay, Missy Ann. Let’s talk about your ex-husband.”

“Tommy? Why him?”

“Well, he was once a part of your family, and you have a child together. How contentious was the divorce?”

“Not at all. It was amicable, and we have no issues with each other. We just couldn’t be a couple. We co-parent our son just fine, though.”

“How did he get along with your parents? Your siblings?”

“Great,” she said. “Listen, Tommy is a lot of things but he’s not violent. He always got along with my family, and I didn’t poison them against him when we split up. As a matter of fact, Tommy gave Seth his first job in construction, and, when my brother went off on his own, Tommy walked him through getting his contractor’s license. As far as I know, they were still friends. Until ... until?—”

Her eyes watered.

“Yeah, I get it,” Shane said, rescuing her from the terrible words. “Until the incidents. What about Seth and Raya? Were they close?”

She nodded, but she still looked on guard. “Yeah, all through primary school they were like two peas in a pod. But when Seth met Erin and started dating her, things changed. He kind of went his own way.”

“Was Raya jealous?”

Missy Ann shrugged again. “Maybe a little. I don’t know. She never said anything to me about it. She’s not the type to voice her issues. She’d rather sit and stew about it.”

Shane leaned forward slightly. “Did Raya and Seth ever have a business together? ”

Missy Ann frowned, shaking her head at first, but then paused. “Oh, wait. Yeah, they did. An auto body shop, years ago. I can’t even remember when. I know that Seth’s construction business hadn’t taken off yet, and his credit wasn’t great. He talked Raya into taking out a loan to get it started. They signed a lease for a shop, got signage and, at first, things were good.”

“What happened?”

“Didn’t last two months,” Missy Ann said, her voice laced with disdain. “Raya wouldn’t do her part—couldn’t keep the customers lined up or handle the books. Seth gave up trying to juggle everything himself, so they shut it down.”

“And the loan?”

Missy Ann shrugged. “Far as I know, no one paid it off. But I do know Raya’s been going on for months about how Seth owes her money. Something about wanting to pay off some old debt. Maybe it’s tied to that. Who knows?”

“Was Raya having financial trouble?”

“Probably. She’s terrible with money,” Missy Ann said, her tone bitter.

“And Ronnie? When did he come into the picture?”

“Not long ago. He moved into the apartment with her but, according to Mama, he wasn’t much help paying the bills. That’s part of why they bought the mobile home.”

Shane nodded, filing that away. “What about Ronnie and Seth? Did they get along?”

Missy Ann hesitated. “I guess. Ronnie’s quiet—doesn’t say much. Everyone gets along with him because, well, he doesn’t really give you a reason not to. Raya does all the talking for them.”

“And your dad? Did he like Ronnie?”

She pursed her lips. “Hard to tell. Dad was the type to keep his thoughts to himself. But I know he tried to bring Ronnie out of his shell—make him feel like he was welcome into our family. He took him fishing once, even had him help with some remodeling in the kitchen. Far as I know, it went fine.”

“Did he pay him for his help?”

“I’m sure he did. Dad wouldn’t have expected him to work for free. But I don’t know for sure.”

Shane took another note before his next question. He looked up, wanting to see her reaction on this one. “Do you know if Raya or Ronnie own weapons?”

Missy Ann’s eyes widened, and she shifted uncomfortably. “No ... not that I know of. But you’re starting to scare me with some of your questions, Detective Weaver.”

“Nothing to be scared of,” Shane said smoothly. “Just doing my job.” He paused, then asked, “Would you mind if I take a look at your phone?”

Missy Ann faltered, clearly taken aback. “I mean, if you really need to. I don’t have anything to hide,” she said after a moment, sliding it across the table and telling him her passcode.

“Thanks,” Shane said, standing up. “I’m going to hang onto this for a bit. Sheriff might have a few more questions for you. Sit tight, okay? I’ll have someone bring you some lunch.”