Page 26 of Wild Wolf
“A lady has to look out for her own interests.”
I dug into my pocket and handed her my card. "Get in touch if you can think of anything else that might be helpful."
"I will. You never know what might pop into my mind in the middle of the night." She smiled. "If that's all, I need my beauty sleep."
She didn't need much of it.
We said goodbye, and she closed the door and latched the deadbolt behind us. JD and I strolled back to the Porsche.
"Well, she was a little revved up.”
“A little?”
"Think she was trying to throw us off? Compromise the investigation?”
"I think she's bored, and her husband's out of town. I think she likes playing games, but I don't think she killed Hannah. If she did, she's one cool customer.”
We hopped into the Porsche and headed back to theAvventura.
Buddy greeted us with excitement at the salon door. I knelt down and petted the little Jack Russell. I grabbed his leash and took him for a walk before settling in for the evening.
In the morning, JD and I set out to find Scout Carrington.
Isabella called along the way.
15
“The only phones that pinged the tower from Hannah’s house at the time of the murder were hers and her kids. Sorry. But I do have some information you might find useful.”
She gave me the scoop. I filed it away in my brain to use at the right moment.
“I appreciate the info.”
“Anytime.”
I ended the call and shared the news with Jack.
We cruised through the posh streets of the exclusive neighborhood and pulled to the curb at 674 Turtle Cove, just a block over from Hannah’s house. JD and I hopped out and strolled the walkway to the front porch. I rang the video doorbell.
A moment later, a soft voice crackled through. “How can I help you?”
I flashed my badge to the lens and made introductions. “We need to talk about Hannah Quinn.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.”
A few moments later, Scout sauntered through the foyer and pulled open the door. Her emerald eyes flicked between the two of us with a little trepidation. We didn’t look like your average cops. “Please, come in,” she said, stepping aside.
We walked into the foyer, and Scout closed the door. She led us into the living room. It was light and airy with bleached hardwoods, lots of sunshine, and beechy art on the walls. She offered us a seat on the sofa.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” I said as I took a seat.
The perky redhead fell into a chair. “Yes. It’s just terrible. I can’t believe she’s really dead.”
In her mid-30s with a stylish bob that hung above her elegant shoulders, fair skin, and body carved from hot yoga, Scout had alluring qualities.
"You don't think this has anything to do with that werewolf, do you?"
I shook my head. "There's no such thing as werewolves.”
