Deadly Intent. Camy Tang

that was silly. He’d probably been thinking about something else entirely.

      She cleared her throat. “You never told me exactly why you needed to speak to Jessica this morning.”

      He paused for a moment—short enough that she wondered if she’d imagined it.

      He smiled at her, but it was inappropriate, considering her question. And the smile never reached his eyes. “She was my ex-wife. There were some things we needed to discuss. Things to do with the divorce.”

      Naomi was tempted to pry further, but that would be too rude, especially if those things had to do with financial matters. But a niggling in her head told her he wasn’t being entirely forthright with her. Why would he be evasive? What could he be hiding? This uncomfortable feeling in her gut, combined with Devon’s timing this morning, was not a good sign.

      But this was Devon Knightley. She’d spoken to him—for hours, at each Zoe dinner. He couldn’t be involved in this nasty business, could he?

      She didn’t want him to be involved in this. That was the bare, honest truth.

      He finished bandaging his hand. “Did I tell you that my sister’s getting married in a few weeks?”

      She reluctantly followed his change of topic. They chatted about his sister’s upcoming wedding and other inconsequential things—but the conversation never returned to that same comfortable footing.

      It only took twenty minutes for Detective Carter to arrive. He’d happened to be nearby when the call came through.

      He seemed a bit tired to be back at the spa for the third time that day, but he did say, “Miss Grant, pretty soon you’ll qualify for police frequent visitor points.”

      He seemed very interested in the man who’d come into the spa looking for Jessica when Naomi gave her statement. As she left so Detective Carter could interview Devon privately in her office, she noticed the detective eyeing the garish pink napkin, still on Devon’s hand.

      Devon hastily threw it away in Naomi’s wastebasket.

      She walked down the hallway, but hesitated just within hearing range.

      “Dr. Knightley, what did the man hit you with?”

      “I think a pair of sunglasses. They broke against my hand, but there were no embedded glass or plastic shards, as far as I can tell.”

      “Where did this happen?”

      “Outside. I think the pieces are still on the sidewalk.”

      “I’ll bag it. Did you want me to call an ambulance?”

      “For this? No, thanks.”

      Devon told the detective about his lost cell phone—which Naomi had also explained—but also about how Aunt Becca had told him to come to the spa to find her. She understood the need for him to get his phone back, but her aunt seemed to have been trusting Devon Knightley a bit too much.

      Naomi called Martin in the security office to bring the outside video footage with him. He appeared and handed the video over, and then gave his statement to the detective in Naomi’s office.

      After he was done, he paused a moment in the doorway, glancing first at the detective, then at Devon, and lastly at Naomi.

      “Did you need to tell me anything else?” Detective Carter asked him.

      “No, no.” He left to return to his station in the security office.

      Had he wanted to say something to her, but couldn’t because Devon and the detective were here? Naomi ought to talk to him tomorrow to make sure it wasn’t anything important.

      As the detective left, her cell phone rang. “Oh no! I didn’t call Dad back to tell him why I’m not home yet. Hello?”

      “What’s going on?” His raised voice shot out of the phone. “I’m worried sick, here—”

      “Sorry, Dad, something came up.”

      “Are you okay?” Dad asked.

      “I’m fine. Martin and Jared were here, and Devon’s here with me, too.”

      “Devon Knightley? Why is he there?”

      “I had his cell phone—”

      “So you let him into the spa at this hour? The man who showed up just when you found the dying woman?”

      Devon’s smile shifted to a pained expression, and a faint dimple appeared in one cheek. She’d never noticed it before…wait a minute, could he hear her father? “If you want to complain, talk to Aunt Becca. She’s the one who told him to drive out to the spa to find me.”

      “Oh.” Dad’s voice dropped to normal decibels again. “Well, come home right now.”

      “Yes, sir.” She ended the call.

      “Naomi.” Devon’s voice, strong and low, planted her to the ground as effectively as the serious glint in his eyes. “I know it looks suspicious. But I didn’t kill Jessica.” He looked as if he needed her to believe him somehow.

      “I…” What could she say? “It’s hard.”

      His mouth tightened as he turned away for a second. “I know. But why would I deliberately ask for a woman I’d just killed?”

      He had a point. She’d have found Jessica within a few minutes anyway, since the dying woman was in her massage room.

      “Besides, the detective will see from the video surveillance that I never entered the building before walking in to ask for her.”

      Well, that made her feel stupid. She looked down at her twined hands.

      “How do I know you didn’t kill her?” Devon asked.

      “What? Why would I kill her? Doing it in my own massage room?”

      “It would make it look like you’re being framed.”

      “Bringing down bad publicity on my own spa?”

      Devon smiled. “Look, we’re both suspects even though I didn’t have the means and you didn’t have a motive. Why don’t we just call a truce?” He held out his hand.

      He was right. “Sure.”