Page 20 of Home Town Knight

“I put my things in my hotel room and went to the restaurant for some dinner. Sat at the bar. And thenyousat down next to me.”

I did my best not to squirm, because I was the sheriff, and I didn’t show discomfort in my own damn office. “Did you realize who I was?”

“Nope.” She popped the P on the word. “And I don’t think you recognized me as a reporter.”

“I did not.” I was pleased to hear her admit we’d made an honest mistake on both sides. It didn’t matter so much for the murder investigation, but a future defense attorney might try to undermine her testimony by saying she was a friend of mine.

We could both safely say we were not friends. Barely even acquaintances.

She described the murder victim getting rowdy with his friends at their corner table. Then the brawl, when they’d barreled into her. “After that, they left the restaurant, and I didn’t see the man again. Not until later.”

I nodded. A few minutes ago in the break room, Keira had told me the victim’s name. Ace Tucker. But I couldn’t share any additional information with her. This interview was based solely on Gen’s knowledge. “Go on,” I said.

She paused, chewing her lip. “Um, you walked me to my room after the bar closed.”

“What time was that?”

“Around midnight.”

I didn’t prompt her, but man, I was sweating. And relieved that the camera wasn’t pointed at me right now. I had no idea how much she intended to share about our…encounter. She’d said she wouldn’t publish a story about it, but this interview was another thing altogether.

“We went into my hotel room and talked a bit. Then I figured out you were Sheriff Douglas, and we argued a little about that.”

A little?But I wasn’t about to disagree. She’d skimmed over the making out and almost-naked part, thankfully.

Without my permission, my brain started replaying those moments yet again. Her warm, smooth skin up against mine. The slide of her hair through my fingers as I unwound her braid. And the way she’d purred when I massaged her scalp. Had there ever been a sexier sound than that?

I shifted, clearing my throat.

“You said goodnight,” she continued, cheeks pink and eyes avoiding me. As if her memory was replaying the same things. “I tried to sleep, but I was wound up. I had a lot on my mind. So I decided to get some fresh air.”

Guilt prickled my conscience. “What time was that?”

“Around four o’clock. I got dressed. Went outside.”

“And then what happened?”

She explained what she’d seen outside the hotel, step by step. I tried to make sense of the victim’s behavior. “Was it your impression that he was leaving the hotel?” I asked. “Or could he have meant to go back inside with the gun?”

She worried her lip with her thumb. “I wasn’t sure in the moment. I was thinking the worst.”

I nodded along. Gen lived in a city, where someone getting a gun from a car meant something very different from the same action out here. Yet she was familiar with hunters. So I didn’t assume she’d overreacted either.

“But now that I think about it, he didn’t look back once. It was like he’d already left the hotel behind. If he’d been planning to go back in, he would’ve been glancing at it.”

“Makes sense.” I jotted that down in my notes.

“He was focused on the vehicle. And looking…” She closed her eyes, like she was picturing the scene in her mind. “Looking west. Same direction the shooter came from.”

“But he didn’t notice the shooter?”

“Definitely not.”

“All right. What happened next?” I got up and rounded my desk to sit in the chair beside her, compelled to be closer while she recounted the murder. Gen was tough. That was clear. But seeing someone die right in front of you was traumatic. I wondered if she’d ever witnessed something like that before.

She told me about the victim collapsing in the snow. Then seeing the shooter emerge from the woods to grab the victim’s bag. He’d also taken something from the man’s pocket. Cash? The crime scene techs had found Ace Tucker’s wallet and keys in his pockets, but no bankroll like the victim had been flashing around last night. No phone either.

“Could the killer have been one of the victim’s friends?” I asked. “The other three who’d been with him in the bar?”

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