Page 118 of Whiskey Chase
He slapped at my arm. “I didn’t say a damn word to anyone.”
“Wrote an unsigned letter? Made an anonymous call? Hired a sketchy skywriter?” I pressed.
His neck was turning a deep shade of raspberry.
“Jesus, Scar. I swear I didn’t tell anyone.”
I released him and sat back to glare at Jameson. He held up a hand before I could attack from the side. “It wasn’t me either.”
All eyes slid to Gibson.
“Don’t look at me. I’ve been holed up in the workshop for three days. I didn’t even see the sweater.”
“None of y’all talked?”
Gibson made the turn into my driveway. “How do we knowyoudidn’t tell her?”
“Ididtell her but only because she already knew!”
Jayme pulled in next to us, and I couldn’t help but look next door. Jonah’s car was in the driveway, but there was no sign of Devlin’s. Was he already gone? Had he really vanished from my life just like that? It was what he needed to do, what he should do. But why did that half-empty driveway hit me like a fist to the gut?
“Cute place,” Jayme said, pulling off her designer sunglasses and studying my cottage. I couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic.
“Come on in, y’all,” I said, leading the way.
I put the coffee on and poured glasses of ice water while Jayme arranged her files just so on my dining table.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” she said, launching into business. “The sweater is being sent off for forensic testing. It’ll take weeks for any results to come back, so that’s a little bit of a reprieve. However, the crime scene investigation team already started on your father’s house. The sheriff and Detective Connelly have agreed to refer to you all only as ‘witnesses’ in any official statements and paperwork. But I grew up in a small town, and I know how fast news travels. You’re not to comment to anyone about anything,” she said. “Got it?”
I nodded, and Jayme zeroed in on me. “That includes your deputy friend.”
“Cassidy is trustworthy,” I argued. “She’s on our side.”
“Say nothing to anyone,” Jayme enunciated crisply. “This is now a police matter, and I don’t want you to get tangled up in this any further. None of you are suspects. None of you are to blame for any potential actions by your parent or parents. That being said, they will name Jonah Bodine as a person of interest. That plus the sweater when it leaks—and it will—will have the media swarming you like fleas.”
My brothers and I looked at each other. “Okay,” I said. “What else?”
Jayme consulted the notes she’d scrawled during our formal interview. “Stay the hell away from Judge Kendall. I know you share a town the size of a city block, but don’t talk to him, don’t try to defend your family, and for God’s sake don’t apologize.”
Avoiding someone in Bootleg was about as easy as finishing a marathon with only one leg.
“If you feel threatened by anyone, go to the police,” Jayme continued.
I snorted. “Who exactly would we feel threatened by?”
“Judge Kendall. Overzealous media. Drunk townsfolk.”
Gibson rolled his eyes. “We can hold our own.”
“Not saying you can’t,” Jayme said. “I’m saying your family doesn’t need any additional legal trouble for the foreseeable future.”
I laughed weakly. “Guess y’all can’t start any more bar fights.”
Jayme rolled her shoulders. “God, I hate favors,” she muttered.
* * *
It was betterand worse than we thought it would be.
