the room, then fixed his sharp gaze upon Cassie and Jameson. “Are y’all the ones who asked Mrs. Alexander to unlock the door?”
Her mouth dry, Cassie started to answer the officer, but no words came out.
Instead, Jameson said, “Yes. We came to check on Miss Winters’s brother.”
A look passed between the two officers, then the older one indicated the entrance. “Let’s talk outside.” He waited for all three of them to exit the apartment first.
As Cassie stood on the small landing, the warm air did nothing to thaw the icy feeling that coursed through her. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering and nearly jumped when Jameson placed his hand at the small of her back.
“Are you okay?”
Cassie gave Jameson a quick nod, although she wasn’t sure of anything. Her mind reeled.
“Mrs. Alexander, may we use your apartment to interview y’all?” the older policeman asked in a thick, Southern drawl.
“Yes.” The manager descended the stairs first.
Aware of his hand still touching her as though imparting some of his strength to her, Cassie followed with Jameson right behind her.
“I have to call Mom.” Sorrow squeezed her throat tightly, causing her voice to thicken. She knew from past experience she wouldn’t shed any tears—she’d learned long ago not to—but that didn’t stop her from feeling a deep sadness.
Jameson glanced back at the officer behind him. “Miss Winters needs to let her mother know what has happened.”
“After I talk with y’all, she can call her.”
Cassie halted and faced the older man. “She’s expecting my call. She’s the one who sent us here to check on Scott.”
“Why?”
“Because she was worried. He was supposed to be at our house a few hours ago, but he didn’t show up or answer his cell.” Under the police officer’s survey, she felt like a suspect being assessed.
Before the man could say anything, Cassie’s phone rang. She withdrew it from her pocket and looked toward the police officer. “It’s her calling.”
“Answer it. We’ll be inside.” The man mounted the steps to the porch with Mrs. Alexander.
Cassie’s hand quivered as she punched the On button. Her heart pounded. Dread covered her in a sheen of sweat. “Mom,” she said into the cell, her gaze glued to Jameson.
“Where’s Scott, Cassie?”
Jameson’s calming presence slowed the beating of her heart enough that she could answer, “He’s not with me.” She realized this wasn’t the way to tell her mother.
“He’s not there? Where is he?”
With the Lord, Cassie thought, but couldn’t say that out loud. She didn’t want her mother to be alone when she found out about Scott, especially in her precarious health.
“Mom, Jameson and I will be home shortly. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” She disconnected the cell before her mother pursued the conversation. She couldn’t out and out lie to her mom.
Jameson clasped her hand, his eyes full of sadness.
“I couldn’t tell her over the phone. We need to get back to Magnolia Falls as soon as possible. I have to be there when she’s told.”
“Then let’s wrap this up and head back.” His arm went around her shoulder.
She leaned into him as they entered the building. The officer was waiting for them in the doorway to Mrs. Alexander’s apartment, looking at them both grimly.
“Miss Winters, my partner just called from your brother’s place. Something doesn’t add up with your brother’s death.”
FOUR
Jameson stepped forward. “You think there may have been foul play?”
“It’s a possibility. Until we know more, we’re handling it as a murder investigation.”
“Scott murdered?” The words staggered Cassie. Jameson clasped her against him as her legs gave way. “How—I mean…” She didn’t know what to say. Thoughts that made no sense tumbled through her mind.
“Why does your partner think that?” Jameson tightened his hold on her.
“We’ll know more after our forensics team goes over the crime scene and we get the autopsy report.”
“Crime scene,” Cassie whispered, her throat raw with emotion.
“Let’s go inside and talk.” The police officer stepped to the side to allow Cassie and Jameson to enter the apartment.
He started forward.
Cassie hung back, frozen to the spot. “I can’t do this. I need to get home and tell Mom. I don’t want her to hear from anyone but me.”
“Ma’am, I understand. I’ll try to get you home as quickly as possible.” The young man went first through the entrance into Mrs. Alexander’s place.
“Cassie?”
The concern in Jameson’s voice touched the icy grip on her heart. She took a deep, fortifying breath and moved into the apartment.
The aroma of coffee drifted to her. Such an ordinary smell. Then Cassie remembered the other scents that accosted her in Scott’s living room—whiskey, blood. She shuddered.
Mrs. Alexander bustled out of the kitchen. “I’ve put a pot of coffee on. Would anyone like a cup?”
Cassie’s stomach churned, and she shook her head.
“I’ll take one.” Jameson guided her toward the couch and sat.
“Sure,” the officer said to Mrs. Alexander, who immediately went back into the kitchen. He sank into a chair across from Cassie and Jameson and opened his pad. “Tell me what happened.”
Exhausted beyond sleep, Cassie trudged into the kitchen, so glad to see Jameson still at the house even though it was well past midnight. He glanced up, quickly masking the apprehension in his expression.
“How’s your mom?” He cradled his mug and brought it to his lips to take a sip.
Cassie eased down into the chair next to him. “Finally asleep.”
He held up his cup. “Do you want any coffee?”
“No, can’t stand the stuff.” She stared at the oak tabletop, trying to put some kind of order to her thoughts. The sound of her mother’s sobs still crowded her mind. Someone did this to her family. She curled her hands into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. “I want to find whoever did this and make him pay.”
“The police will be looking into Scott’s death. It hasn’t been ruled a murder yet.”
“So you think he simply fell and hit his head on the table?”
“There was blood on the edge of it and on nothing else—at least that I could see.” The last few words were spoken with less conviction that it wasn’t murder.
“Maybe the killer took it with him.”
“You would rather Scott had been murdered than drinking again?”
“No, of course…” She tightened her hands even more until her knuckles stood out, white. “I don’t know what to think anymore. But that officer was suspicious.”
“I don’t think it’s just because Scott had liquor all over the front of his shirt. He could have spilled that on himself. Whatever it is, the police aren’t saying. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling.”
She