Colin reached between their bodies and unzipped his gun bag, hanging around his waist. He withdrew his weapon and pulled Michelle toward the house with the white picket fence. “This is your house, right?”
She glanced at his Glock, and a tremble rolled through her slim frame.
“I’m Colin Roarke.” He rubbed a circle on her stiff back. “Do you remember me from the restaurant a few hours ago?”
She nodded, and he propelled her toward the front door. He halted on the porch. “Did you leave your door open?”
Again she nodded, and Colin pushed over the threshold, clutching his gun. Michelle clung to his arm with her blood-stained hands as he checked the other rooms in the small house.
He grabbed her phone and called 9-1-1, and then tried to get Michelle to sit down. Shivers racked her body, and Colin knew if he released her she’d plunge to the floor.
Finally she bent her knees and perched on the edge of her couch. “It just happened. She was leaving my house. I heard noises, but I couldn’t see anything. Oh, my God, he murdered her right in front of me and I didn’t see a thing.”
As she buried her face in her hands, Colin put his arm around her heaving shoulders. She’d been lucky the killer hadn’t come after her. His muscles ached with tension. He wanted to run out there and find the SOB who had done this, but he couldn’t leave Michelle.
He wouldn’t leave her like he did that time when she was a kid.
Sirens blared through the night and they both jumped. Michelle jerked her head up, a shaky hand covering her mouth. “I hope Ryan’s not working tonight. He can’t see Amanda like that.”
Colin pushed off the sofa and headed for the door. Michelle trailed after him. “You can wait inside, Michelle. Someone will come in to question you.”
She twisted her hands, still smudged with traces of her friend’s blood. “I can’t stay inside, especially if Ryan’s out there.”
Colin dragged the collar of Michelle’s sweater up to her pale face. “You don’t need to see Amanda again. Stay in the yard.”
He stepped onto the porch, tucking Michelle behind him. Three police cars and an ambulance squealed to a stop in the street. Must’ve emptied out the entire P.D. of Coral Cove. Did they even have a homicide detective? Colin strode forward, holding his FBI badge in front of him as the red-and-blue lights filtered through the fog.
Colin scanned the faces of the cops swarming out of their cars and didn’t see Sergeant Stewart among them. But like any small-town cop off duty, he’d pick up the call on his scanner. He’d know his wife had been with Michelle Girard tonight.
The officer in charge peeled away from the surge of cops and barreled toward Colin. “What happened?”
“Mrs. Stewart dropped off Ms. Girard and somebody attacked Mrs. Stewart before she got into her car.”
Michelle hovered behind Colin, hooking a finger in his belt loop. She didn’t seem to be able to stand on her own without wobbling, but Colin didn’t mind being her rock.
The cop smacked a hand to his forward. “Stewart? Amanda Stewart, Sarge’s wife?”
“That’s right, Clark. It happened in front of me, but I couldn’t see a thing.” Michelle had stepped forward, pulling back her shoulders, still clutching Colin’s arm for support.
Another pair of headlights plowed through the fog, and tires screeched on the damp asphalt. A man’s voice, frantic and hollow, echoed in the night. Sergeant Stewart stumbled into the crime scene, now illuminated with spotlights and casting an eerie yellow light on all the grim faces. He dropped onto his knees next to his wife’s body and groaned.
Michelle broke away from Colin, her stride strong and purposeful. Two uniformed officers prevented her from approaching Stewart, but she called to him.
From his doubled over position, Stewart raised his head. He staggered to his feet and tripped toward Michelle. She held out her arms and Ryan crushed her body to his, burying his face in her shoulder.
His muffled voice repeated, “What happened? What happened?”
“Officer—” Colin peered at the cop’s badge “—Trammell? Maybe you should question Ms. Girard inside and get Sergeant Stewart away from the crime scene.”
Trammell nodded. “It’s Lieutenant Trammell. You’re that FBI agent, Roarke, in town to investigate Tiffany Gunderson’s death, right?”
“I am.”
Trammell swiped a hand across his brow. “Looks like death is following you around, Agent Roarke.”
Colin clenched his teeth. You have no idea, Lieutenant.
Trammell yelled to one of the gawking officers. “Get County on the line now. Tell them we need a homicide detective and a CSI team.” Trammell tapped Michelle on the back while he clapped his hand on Sergeant Stewart’s shoulder. “Go inside, Sarge.”
With her arm clasped around Stewart’s waist, Michelle led him through the gate and up the brick walkway to her house.
She’d been falling apart just a few minutes ago. Now she was supporting her friend’s husband with the strength of an Amazon woman. Michelle settled Stewart on the sofa and retrieved a box of tissues from the bathroom.
“Do you want some water, Ryan? Something stronger?” She shoved the tissues toward him.
“No. Nothing. What happened, Michelle?”
Stewart asked the question, but Trammell pulled out his notebook.
While Stewart alternately sobbed and cursed, Michelle recounted how Amanda had driven her home and walked to the front door to get her sweater. She grabbed one of the tissues and dabbed her nose. “She disappeared into the fog and I kept waiting for her car to start but I didn’t hear it. I heard some noises and when I went out to investigate…I found her on the ground.”
“Where’d you go tonight, Michelle?” Lieutenant Trammell looked up from scribbling in his notebook.
She glanced at Colin and then shifted her gaze back to Trammell. “We went to Burgers and Brews for an early dinner.”
“Why there? Why tonight?” Stewart practically barked his questions, and Trammell’s jaw tightened.
The tension in the air stretched as tight as a new string on a guitar. Jealous husband? Colin would’ve gone in for the kill with Stewart on edge. Trammell hadn’t even asked Sergeant Stewart for an alibi, but local cops handled their own differently. The homicide detective on his way from County would take care of business.
Trammell cleared his throat. “What were you doing outside, Agent Roarke?”
“My parents have a house down the street from Ms. Girard’s on the other side of Columbella. I walked there after dinner in town and was chucking rocks on the beach when I heard Ms. Girard scream.”
“Did anyone else come out of their house? The Vincents? Did you see anything?”
“There was nobody on the street. I saw the parked car and the two women. I didn’t want to leave Ms. Girard alone to do a search of the area. Can’t see two feet in front of you in this fog, anyway.”
“The Vincents are out of town.” Michelle shot Colin a grateful look from beneath her dark lashes.
Taking care of Sergeant Stewart had put the soft color back into her cheeks. Being needed had given her purpose and direction. Stewart knew he could lean on her, since he’d been clutching her hand ever since they’d sat down.
Just as Michelle had leaned on him after the murder. And he’d liked someone counting on him for the first time since…