“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Yes, we do.” A lump rose in his throat. He shoved it down with a hard swallow. “From what you described—the knife’s angled position through bone and flesh, the direction of the blade’s entry from above not below—she’s obviously innocent. Even if Kincaid had been on his knees, she’s not strong enough to have stabbed him in that manner.”
Trey looked out in the distance before answering. When he turned his head back to Logan, his gaze was filled with remorse. “Under ordinary circumstances, I would agree with you. But Megan was brutally attacked. The will to survive, the power of the moment, fear, any of those factors could have come into play and given her the strength to defend herself.”
“With a knife to the man’s chest? Through bone? No. That doesn’t make sense.”
“You know it’s possible. Not probable, but possible.”
Logan recognized the unbending look in Trey’s eyes as he spoke. The other man wasn’t going to draw any conclusions about the murder until he had concrete information. That did not bode well for Megan’s immediate freedom. Unacceptable.
“Release her into my custody.”
“No.”
“I have the perfect place to take her, a place where she’ll be safe.”
“She’s safe enough here.”
“Not as much as she would be with me.”
“Look, Logan, I know the situation seems bleak right now, but all is not lost. God has not abandoned Megan. Or you. Have patience, my friend. Pray for guidance. The Lord will direct your way.”
Right. He was supposed to stand around and wait for God to free Megan. The same God who’d allowed the attack to occur in the first place.
Logan didn’t have that much faith.
And now he was through taking the passive route. He was through shoving his emotions aside in the name of reason. To what end? To stand around and talk about a silent God who didn’t seem to care what was happening here?
“Release Megan into my custody,” Logan demanded again.
“I said, no.”
Logan went for Trey’s throat. But this time the other man was ready. At the last moment, he shifted to his left. Logan stumbled into empty air. Before he caught his balance, Trey spun him around by the shoulder and slammed him back against the wall, securing him in place with the same choke hold Logan had used earlier.
He fought against Trey’s grip. “If I wasn’t so angry you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to subdue me like this.”
“But you are angry.” Trey tightened his hold. “Allowing your emotions to rule your actions is what gets a man shot.”
Logan was in no mood for a lecture, especially from Trey Scott. “This? From you?”
“You know I speak from experience.” Trey rolled his right shoulder, reminding them both of the time he’d taken a bullet when he’d confronted Ike Hayes over the cold-blooded murder of his first wife. Trey had been bent on revenge and had lost his perspective. Logan had saved the man’s life because he’d been the rational thinker.
Now Logan was the one losing perspective. He dropped his chin and let out a long breath. “I can’t leave her in jail. Let me take her away from here. I’ll keep her safe.”
“I know you will.” Trey released his hold and stepped back. “But we need answers first.”
Absently, Logan rubbed his throat. “We have to find Kincaid’s real killer. Before he finds Megan.”
“Right now, all we have is supposition. We need more information.”
Then Logan would get them more. And he knew exactly where to start. “Promise me you won’t let Megan out of your sight, not for any reason.”
“That goes without saying.”
Logan took two steps in the direction of Market Street but Trey blocked his path. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To Mattie’s.”
“Waste of time. You know the woman will run you around in circles if she decides to speak to you at all.”
“She’ll talk.”
Trey tried a different tactic. “My deputy has been there for several hours, looking for any clues we may have missed earlier. You’ll just be in the way.”
“I don’t plan to interfere. I plan to get answers.” From the most likely source, Mattie Silks herself. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He shoved past Trey.
This time, the man didn’t try to stop him.
With each step he took, Logan calculated how best to go about questioning Mattie. There was no room for emotion now. Only harsh, unyielding intent. Someone in that den of iniquity had seen the real killer. Someone besides Megan.
And Logan wouldn’t rest until someone started talking.
Chapter Four
By the time Logan rounded the corner onto Market Street, the wind had taken on a nasty bite. He turned up his collar against the cold and instinctively increased his pace. Hollow laughter rang out in the distance, followed by the slam of a door.
He hated this time of day. In the eerie, predawn light, when the world stood poised between night and day, a desolate sheen seemed to cover everything. The oppressive stench of rotting garbage and stale liquor added to his already bleak mood.
A shadow slithered across his feet, then disappeared.
He turned quickly, scanning the area with a narrowed gaze. He found nothing more than a stumbling drunk and a scrawny mutt digging for scraps in the frosted earth.
Frowning, Logan resumed his trek toward Mattie’s. Every few steps he stabbed a covert glance over his shoulder. He couldn’t shake the notion he was being followed, yet he didn’t get a sense of imminent danger.
Puzzling over the contradictory sensations, he arrived at his destination. The most elegant house on the block, the brothel’s pale pink stucco, sweeping ivy and heavily sloping roof presented an inviting picture of hearth and home.
It was a lie, of course. The temporary pleasure offered in this house only resulted in despair. For all parties involved.
What Logan couldn’t fathom was Megan’s decision to come here at all. What had she hoped to accomplish with her charity work? What had been worth putting herself in harm’s way?
When and if the time was right, he would ask her.
For now, he lifted the ornate knocker and let it drop with a loud bang. The abrupt sound helped focus his thoughts on the matter at hand.
He would get his answers this morning. Calmly. Methodically.
One question at a time.
The door swung open. Jack, Mattie’s notorious bodyguard, stood just inside the gaudy foyer. He stared at Logan with an unreadable expression on his round, scruffy face. With more brawn than brains, Black Jack O’Malley was as much Mattie’s lapdog as her protector. Nevertheless, the man had always shown Logan respect.
Logan would return the favor now. “Jack,” he said in a courteous tone. “Is Mattie here?”
Jack nodded. “She’s been expecting you.”
“Of course.” Logan didn’t bother hiding the frustration in his tone. The woman could have given him vital information when he was here before, but she had chosen to send him away with a head full of confusion and worry.
Games