Page 151 of Noel Secrets
“Take her back to the station. We still need to question her about what happened here.”
“I’m not sure she’s up for that.”
Dean sighed then put a hand on his hip. “It doesn’t matter what she’s up for, Clay. We need to get her statement. If you’d prefer, I can have an officer escort her.”
“No.” He wasn’t leaving her side again tonight.
Dean tossed Clay his keys. “Take my SUV. That way, if you don’t go to the station, at least I’ll know where to find you.”
“We’ll be there,” Clay assured him.
He grabbed the leash then walked into the adjoining room where the dog had joined her. He snapped on the leash then took Darby’s arm. “Let’s get out of here and let the police do their jobs.”
She nodded and stood but took one last look through the door at Brent’s body before hurrying outside.
Clay led her to the chief’s SUV and helped her inside then opened the door for Hercules to climb into the back.
She didn’t say anything as they drove back to the police station, but he needed to get her talking. “Darby, what happened?”
She wiped the tears from her face. “He was there when I took Hercules out for his walk. He pushed his way inside. I thought he might attack me.”
“Did he?” He gritted his teeth, needing to know the details but not sure he wanted them.
“No. He wanted to apologize. He said he hadn’t meant to drag me into this. And he admitted that Rushton paid him. He planned to turn himself in to the police and confess the plan was that, once I was dead, Brent would have access to the money and would give Rushton half.”
He’d admitted the same to Clay. If only he’d stayed alive long enough to testify to it.
Clay shouldn’t be angry—after all, Brent had sacrificed himself for Darby—but they still had to prove Rushton was the money behind the attacks and Brent’s death was a step backward.
He reached for her hand and held it as a wave of emotion threatened to unravel him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
She slid across the seat and rested her head against his shoulder. His arm went around her while he drove with the other.
“I’m okay,” she told him. “And, more important, I finally know for certain that Brent never wanted me dead.”
“That’s something,” he assured her. But there was something else too. “Without Brent to collect the inheritance, there’s no reason left to kill you.”
Except revenge.
That thought hit him without warning. Grant Rushton didn’t strike him as the type of man to let things go. He would find another way.
She still wasn’t safe.
Chapter Twelve
Darby rubbed her hands over her arms as the chill of the interrogation room got to her. Since arriving at Sheraton PD, she’d been separated from Clay and treated more like a suspect than a witness.
At least she wasn’t handcuffed, but the door was locked. She’d tried it after an hour of waiting, wanting to find someone who could tell her what was happening.
Brent was dead. That much she knew. Surely, they didn’t now consider her a suspect?
Finally, the door opened and Chief Dean entered. He was only a few years older than she was, and she’d even helped campaign for him back when Suzanne was still working for her. Darby didn’t know him personally, but he had to know she wasn’t a killer.
“Why am I being held here?” she demanded as he sat down.
“A man is dead, Mrs. Foster. Your ex-husband was found shot to death, and Agent Walker and I literally found you leaning over the body.”
“I’ve already given you my statement. He found me at the hotel and was trying to apologize when someone started shooting. He jumped in front of me. He saved me.”
