“What do we know about Dirkson?” Annie asked eagerly.
Cole kept reading. “He’s in the clear. He was seen having a beer in the bar after he dropped Mom at the hotel, and he swears he left right after that. A couple of witnesses corroborated his statement. I suppose he could have circled around and come back to the hotel later, but, judging by how soon he got to the ranch, he’s probably telling the truth.”
“His arrival time is documented too?” Annie asked.
“By Ryan himself. Dirkson reported to him when he arrived.”
Sucking on the lemon drop, she made a note on the pad she’d pulled out. “I’ll talk to Dirkson again before we eliminate him,” she decided.
Cole’s brows lifted. “It can’t hurt, but what reason could he possibly have had to kill her?” he asked skeptically.
“From what I’ve learned so far about dear Sophia,” Annie felt compelled to explain, “her taste in men was eclectic. Dirkson’s worth a look.” She’d be darned if she was going to justify every step she took to Cole.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Only that Sophia’s hotel room showed definite signs of a struggle, and Mom had no scratches or bruising on her arms or face when they questioned her,” he replied.
Annie made another note and drew a star next to it. “How do the police explain that? Sophia must have fought back.”
He shrugged. “They don’t even try. I’ll have Tiffany make copies of all this for you.” He pressed a button on his intercom.
When his secretary opened the door and he rose to hand her the file, Annie took the opportunity to study him from beneath her lashes. His suit was impeccably tailored, his black shoes as shiny as tinted windows. He had always liked to dress well.
If she didn’t put the past where it belonged, this case was only going to be more difficult. As it was, Lily had already been tried and found guilty in the press, which had painted her as a gold digger, a home-wrecker and worse. The obvious holes in the case wouldn’t matter to those people who’d already convicted her in their minds—people from whom a pool of jurors would be selected.
Annie realized that Cole had resumed his seat and was watching her. “How do you like Denver?” she asked to fill the silence while they waited for his secretary to come back with the copies.
“It’s a nice city,” he said noncommittally. “The winters took some getting used to, but it’s home for me now. I’ve made friends. I’ve settled in.”
No mention of a wife or a family. All Annie could think to do was nod. The gap of six years yawned between them like a chasm with no bridge.
“What about you?” he asked unexpectedly. “I was surprised to hear you left the force. Being a cop meant so much to you.”
Not as much as you did, she thought sadly. Even though she knew he was only making small talk, she considered her reply carefully. “It meant a great deal to my father that I followed in his footsteps,” she said after a moment. “When I was cleared, I realized that being a cop had been his dream, but it was no longer mine.” There was no way to explain how she’d felt, abandoned by Cole, ostracized by her fellow officers and gagged by the code of silence, the blue wall, from doing any more than declaring her own innocence. If her partner hadn’t finally deigned to clear her of being on the take, Annie’s career and her reputation would have been destroyed.
Because of her unwillingness to implicate her partner and Cole’s subsequent lack of faith in her, he had assumed she was guilty. Perhaps it had been unrealistic of her to expect him to believe in her innocence without question, but, if the tables had been turned, she knew she would never have doubted him.
“I was sorry to hear about your father,” he said quietly, bringing her back to the present. “I thought about writing later, but it didn’t seem like a good idea.”
Annie didn’t respond. What more was there to say? Instead she changed the subject. “I’ll want to talk to your mother.”
Instantly, his expression grew wary. “Why? She’s already discussed this ad nauseam with the police, the prosecutor and with me. Is it necessary for you to drag her through it all again?”
“I like to do my own interviews.” Annie struggled for patience. Was he going to oppose her every step of the way? What was he afraid of? “I may find something that’s been overlooked.”
“I can answer any questions you have,” he insisted as his secretary slipped back in and handed him two sets of papers, one of which he gave Annie.
She knew from past experience that he could be bulldog stubborn when he wanted to be. She waited until the door closed again. “When did your mother notice the bracelet was missing?” she asked.
It was his turn to hesitate. Frowning, he referred to the file in front of him. “After a horseback ride at the ranch. It’s all in here. She’d been having some trouble with the clasp. When she realized she’d lost the bracelet, she assumed it fell off somewhere out on the range, that it was gone forever.”
“And did Ryan corroborate her story?” Annie persisted.
His frown deepened. “Ryan wasn’t aware it was missing,” he finally admitted.
“And why not?” It was important Annie put the pieces together, and the bracelet was the most damning piece of evidence the other side had.
Cole sat back in his chair and glared as though she were the enemy. “I don’t know why not.”
She got to her feet. “That’s precisely why I need to talk to your mother. If someone did frame her, they had to have that bracelet with them at the time of the murder. How many people knew she was going to be at the hotel for the banquet?”
“I have no idea. Her room was comped and any number of hotel employees could have known.” He pulled a calendar out of his drawer and flipped through it. “Let me call and set up a time for us to see her.”
“No. Give me her number. I’ll call her and I’ll go talk to her.” Annie refused to let him run her investigation. When he raked a hand through his black hair and she saw the worry in his eyes, she relented slightly. “I know what I’m doing,” she said. “Let me do my job.”
Cole appeared about to argue when his intercom buzzed. Muttering a soft curse, he picked up his phone. After a moment, he held it out to Annie. “It’s Mom,” he said, resignation in his voice. “She wants to see you.”
“So you’re the same Annie Jones my son used to know before he moved to Denver,” Lily said just as Annie was about to take a sip from the tall, sweating glass of iced tea brought by the housekeeper Lily had introduced as Rosita.
The two women were sitting in the shade of the inner courtyard at Ryan’s sprawling ranch house, surrounded by well-tended pots of flowering vines and exotic grasses. Nearby a fountain gurgled softly. The day was warm, but Lily’s comment sent a sudden chill through Annie, and she set her glass down abruptly.
“That’s right,” she replied, grateful her voice was just as steady as Lily’s gaze. “Cole and I were lovers six years ago. It ended badly.” Perhaps her candor would head off any more questions.
The older woman seemed to relax, as if she’d been expecting evasion, even lies, and was relieved to hear the truth.
“You don’t have to tell me anything more,” she said as she selected a cookie from the silver tray. Her engagement ring, studded with precious stones, flashed a rainbow of colors in the sunlight. “I haven’t said anything about