Page 48 of Wild Wolf

"Maybe she believed Hannah’s promises.”

"If so, why kill her?" Grant replied with a confident grin.

It didn't take long to come up with a reason. "Hannah had dirt on Carolyn.”

"Now you're cooking with gas," Grant said as he leaned back, feeling accomplished.

"What kind of dirt?”

"That's not my job to figure out. That's yours. You're the detective.”

"Seems like your life depends on it.”

"Seems like we both have a vested interest in seeing you succeed.”

We left the interrogation room after the interview and stepped into the hallway.

Sheriff Daniels joined us. "You buy any of his story?"

"It's worth looking into,” I said.

"Right now, that guy will say anything to save his ass.”

"Let me know when the DNA analysis comes back on those shoes of his. In the meantime, we’ll run down this lead.”

We left the station, and I called Isabella for another favor. I asked her to look into Carolyn's cell phone records. I hadn't even considered her initially.

After a few keystrokes and a couple minutes, Isabella had some interesting information. “Carolyn’s phone is off the grid for about 30 minutes during the time frame of the murder. It pops back up on Redfin Lane, heading away from Stingray Bay. A call comes through from Hannah’s son, James. Carolyn’s phone turns around and heads to Stingray Bay.”

“She left the scene of the crime, then headed back,” I surmised.

“Could be. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.”

“While I’ve got you, can you search the online docket? See if there’s been any movement in Carolyn’s probate case.”

After a few more taps of the keys, Isabella said, “Looks like she filed a new petition yesterday. Her original petition was withdrawn.”

“That was quick.”

“Hannah’s not around anymore to fight it.”

“That’s starting to look like a motive,” Isabella said.

I thanked her again and ended the call.

Our next stop was to find Carolyn. She lived in the Tidewater Lofts on Gulf Breeze Way.

It was a rundown little complex with coral-colored buildings, dingy siding, and peeling white trim. Each building had four units, two up, two down. The parking lot was open, not gated. A few withered palm trees watched over the property. It wasn't abadplace, but certainly not the nicest on the island.

Jack found a place to park, and we hopped out and strolled the concrete walkway that weaved through the buildings to D202.

We climbed the steps, and I put a heavy fist against the door.

Footsteps shuffled down the foyer a moment later. The peephole flickered as someone peered through. The deadbolt unlatched and Carolyn pulled open the door with surprised eyes. They flicked between the two of us. Flustered, she said, "Deputies, I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Have you broken any new leads in the case?”