“My left.”
He walked to her left and stopped at her side. “I’m pushing a gun into your hand. Show me how he did it.”
“He stood close to me, behind and on the left, and put his arm around me. He lifted my arm with his and pressed the gun into my right hand. He pushed his other hand against it too.”
Christianson dug in his pocket, pulled out his badge case, and stepped closer until his side pressed against hers. It affected her in a stunning, shocking way. Awareness of him, not as a police detective, but as a man, crashed through her, sending a strange sizzle through her veins. Impossible. She shivered. He might be good-looking, but he despised her, or at least gave a good imitation of it. That didn’t stop her body from reacting to his nearness. Prickles of awareness spread along her skin everywhere he touched.
He put an arm around her and lifted her wrist the way the killer had earlier. Mimicking the earlier scene, he stuffed the badge case into her hand and brought up his other arm. For a devastating moment, she was back in Vince’s study with a crazy, dangerous man forcing a gun into her hand.
The shiver started at the base of her spine and spread upward. “No. No!”
“Calm down,” Christianson said.
Hennesy picked up her coffee cup, brought it to her, and held it while she took a drink. It had cooled to lukewarm but still helped steady her as it settled in her stomach.
Christianson moved closer again and wrapped his arms around her. The position meant his body pressed against her back, and warmth from him penetrated through their clothes. She craved that warmth even as she recognized the danger of it.
He nudged at her finger, just as the killer had earlier. In pushing her hand against the case, he pressed on a sore spot. She gasped and flinched.
Christianson stopped.
“Are you all right?” Hennesy asked. “What happened?”
She looked at the finger. “I’m getting a bruise. Where he pushed my finger on the trigger.”
Christianson stepped to the side, raised her hand and turned it so the light fell on it. He and Hennesy both looked. Neither could miss the dark smudge across the back of her finger. The men glanced at each other.
Christianson shrugged. “Let’s get back to it.”
They acted out the rest of the scenario. She told them about how her arms had jerked up with each shot, but the man had pulled them back down to point the gun again and squeeze her finger back.
Why did it feel good to have the detective’s arm around her? That was so stupid. She didn’t dare think about him as anything but an enemy.
He flinched when she moved. He pressed tightly against her, and she felt the sudden tension that tightened muscles in his arm. Not just muscles in his arms. Proof that he wasn’t entirely indifferent to her prodded at her lower back.
They finished the role-play of the scene. Hennesy stayed quiet for a few moments, his expression thoughtful. Christianson’s blank look didn’t give anything away.
A cell phone buzzed and Hennesy pulled it out of his pocket and answered. After a moment he looked at Christianson and nodded toward the exit.
“Evidence needs a DNA sample and we need to get your fingerprints for comparison,” Christianson said as he followed his partner to the door. “I’ll send someone in for you. We’ll be back in a minute.”
Christianson shut the door behind him.
Exhaustion made her sag in the chair. Her head throbbed and her body ached. She missed the warmth of the man’s body. For a few minutes it had melted some of the ice freezing her, but the cold began spreading again. The uncertainty tormented her.
Were they going to arrest her for Vince’s murder?
Chapter 3
Jay followed Sam into the hall.
“I’ll need pictures of her hands,” Sam said into the phone. “Marcia got some earlier, but the bruises might not have come out then. Make sure they’re time-stamped. Right.” He ended the call.
“What have they got?” Jay asked.
“Faint trace of a footprint on the walkway outside heading toward the driveway. Same print as the ones inside leading to the side door. No shoes in the place with a trace of blood on them except the ones the victim wore, none that match the print. No sign of a break-in, either.”
“Not much. What do you think? Do we charge her?”
“It’s a wild story, but she’s consistent with it.”
“She’s smart enough to pull it off.”
Sam frowned and shook his head. “Smart enough, maybe. But I don’t think she’s got the kind of ice-water in her veins it would take.”
“She could have set it up. Maybe with someone who wanted him out of the picture. If he had mob connections, he had enemies too.”
“Enemies who could have done this. They might have seen her as the perfect patsy. If she’s telling the truth, they were making sure we’d have an obvious suspect and not look any further. In fact, if it weren’t for the shoeprint, there wouldn’t be much of anything to dispute it.”
“It still seems too…unbelievable.”
Sam stared at him for a second. “Jay, are you sure you’re being entirely impartial on this?”
“What?”
“She looks a bit like Theresa.”
“No.”
“And she’s a damsel in distress. You sure you’re not fighting your inner white knight so hard you’re not leaning too far the other way?”
Jay clenched his hands into tight fists as he glared at his partner. “I don’t believe this. The situations are totally different.”
“Are they? Look, I understand. Theresa did a number on you. Nobody blames you. But you’ve got to know it’s there and allow for it.”
“You don’t trust my judgment?”
“Not what I’m saying. Just saying that what Theresa did makes you distrust your own instincts about women, especially young, attractive women in difficult situations.”
Jay froze in place, willing the anger to recede, forcing his body to relax before he throttled his partner. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m too tired to figure this out. What do you think about Sarah Martin?”
“My gut says she’s telling the truth. She didn’t waffle on the story or contradict herself. The bruise on her finger supports it too. She didn’t even seem to know it was there until you pressed on it. There were a couple of others on her hand, if you looked closely. And there’s no obvious motive. The will’s too easy to check. She’d know there was no point in lying about it. Quick survey says she loses big-time with Capelli’s death. Her sugar daddy’s gone. And Capelli likely had the kind of enemies who could pull this off if they had a reason.”
“I’m still not sure I’m buying it, but if we go with it, where does it take us?”
“Lots of homework.”
“Hold her as a material witness?”
“Maybe we could.” Sam tapped his chin a few times. “Those footprints make a pretty strong case for an intruder, unless we can find the shoe that did it. She gets a lawyer, she won’t be hanging around long anyway. Don’t see how we can prove flight risk except that she’s got no family to hold her here. No place else to go either. I make it about fifty-fifty we get the warrant. But you know, we might get further if we don’t try to hold her.”
“Just