beneath the kitchen table.
“Yep.” Darby nodded as he handed back the carton. “She hates me.”
“She’s just trying to get used to you. Give her some time.”
“I suppose.”
Finn took a sip of his coffee and gestured to the table. “Mind if I take a seat?”
“Sure.”
She fixed her own mug and took a seat opposite him.
“Do you know Michael Hayden?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Darby said. “But I’ve had several calls this morning telling me something terrible has happened to him.”
“You could say that.”
“Was he murdered like Bo?”
“It appears so.”
She shook her head. “What makes people do such horrible things? I know Bo had his shortcomings, but to hurt him like that? It doesn’t make sense to me.”
Something weird bottomed in his stomach, fluttering beneath the caffeine hit, and Finn had to admit that he wanted to believe her. More than that, the sincerity in her eyes seemed legitimate. He had significant experience reading people—the wacky branches of his family ensured he had to be constantly on his toes—and he’d only further honed that skill with his job in law enforcement.
But the desire to believe her didn’t change the fact that her alibi on record was a bit weak for the night of Bo’s death. Nor did it keep him from having to ask where she was yesterday when Michael Hayden was murdered.
“Murder makes little sense.”
“And here in Red Ridge, of all places. I know people deal with this in large cities. But here?” She shuddered. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
The fact that she still hadn’t tracked to his line of thought was another checkmark in her favor, but none of it changed the point that she was one of the few who’d gained with Bo Gage’s murder. “You’ve benefitted from Bo’s death.”
The distracted blue gaze, focused on the small circles she drew around the lip of her mug, snapped to attention, fire heating their depths. “This again?”
There she was. Defensive. Because she was guilty?
“This house. His business. Penny.” Finn listed them all. “You’re the one who profited by Bo’s death.”
“I was interrogated by your detective after the reading of Bo’s will. I did not kill my ex-husband. But is that what you are suggesting, Chief Colton?”
“I’m just asking questions.”
“No, you’re not.” She settled her mug on the table, her gaze direct when she next looked at him. “So I’d like to know if I’m a suspect before I ask you to leave.”
* * *
Darby fought the waves of nerves that mixed her few sips of coffee into a dark sloshy brew in her stomach. Even with the subtle feeling that she was going to be sick, she refused to stand down.
How dare he come to her home and ask her questions like this?
She wasn’t a murderer. More than that, she’d been so busy since Bo’s death, she’d barely kept her head above water. What did he possibly think she was about?
And why?
Unbidden, images of the past few weeks’ front pages of the Red Ridge Gazette filled her mind’s eye.
Groom Killer on the Loose.
The Red Ridge Groom Killer—Crime of Passion or Premeditated Murder?
Love or Revenge? Does the Groom Killer Want Both?
One after the next, the headlines had grown more and more lurid as each day went by without any leads. The reporters at the Gazette had been having a field day with the biggest thing to hit Red Ridge since a four-month gold rush helped establish the town in the late nineteenth century. Now that a second groom had been killed, the headlines would only get worse.
Because it was worse, she reminded herself. There was a groom killer on the loose.
“You think I’m doing this? First Bo. Then this poor Michael Hayden, a man I didn’t even know.”
“I’m asking a few questions.”
“No, Chief Colton. You’re not.”
When he said nothing, she continued. “Can you honestly sit there and tell me you think I murdered my ex-husband to get my hands on this?” She gestured to the kitchen at large, stopping when her gaze landed on Penny. “Other than Penny, the man has left me with less than nothing.”
He seemed to soften a bit at her mention of the dog, his hard gaze softening as it grew speculative. “I’m not sure his fiancée sees it the same way.”
The comment was enough to respike her ire and Darby let out a heavy exhale. “Don’t think Hayley hasn’t been by a few times to make that very point.”
“Miss Patton’s been here?”
“Sure. She came to get her things. Made a point to prance out of the bedroom flaunting a small red negligee like it was going to hurt my feelings.”
“You were married to Bo Gage,” Chief Colton pointed out. He didn’t even blink at the mention of a red slinky number. “Presumably she thought it would upset you?”
“Bo and I parted on amicable terms. The best thing I can say about the day I signed my divorce papers was the sense of relief.”
“You weren’t upset?”
“I spent the majority of my marriage upset. By the time I reached that day, I was just happy to be out, free to go about my life.”
As the words settled between them, hovering somewhere over the sugar bowl in the middle of the table, Darby couldn’t deny their truth. She’d had no desire to be a divorcée at the age of twenty-seven, but in the ensuing two years she’d come to accept the fact that ending her marriage to Bo had been the right thing to do.
She might not have found anyone to move on with, but she had moved on. There was strength in that, and a deep sense of pride that she’d been willing to make the tough decisions and stand up for herself.
It had also toughened her up and she knew she didn’t have to sit there and answer Chief Colton’s questions, no matter how attractive the questioner.
And darn her stupid feminine awareness for picking up on that fact.
Whatever she’d expected when he’d arrived, Finn Colton wasn’t there to help her any more than any other gawkers who’d been by over the past few weeks. She was on her own.
Just like always.
But it was his next words that proved it.
“Would you be able to tell me your whereabouts for yesterday between the hours of seven and nine?”
Finn poured himself another cup of precinct coffee, well aware the caffeine wasn’t going to do any favors for the slick knot that still twisted his gut. His interview with Darby Gage hadn’t gone well and after securing her unprovable alibi for Hayden’s murder—an evening in with Penny—he’d left her in a fine pique.
Although he’d been hoping for confirmation that she’d been out with girlfriends or even on a date, her pronouncement that she’d spent the cold winter night in with her obstinate new roommate hadn’t gotten him any nearer to removing Darby Gage from his suspect list.
He headed back to his desk from the small kitchenette the RRPD secretary, Lorelei