Secret Alibi. Lori L. Harris

And…” Lexie closed her mouth, worried that her response would be misinterpreted.

      Jack placed the phone on the table in front of her, the screen still lit and the words still there. The smeared blood on the inside of the bag blurred the screen. She looked away, her gaze stumbling onto Jack’s as he watched her.

      “You don’t believe Dan’s death to be a suicide?” Her voice was pitched lower than usual. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Lexie looked toward the Hispanic man, who hadn’t moved. “Do you?”

      Jack’s voice came as if from a distance. “It’s up to the medical examiner to make that determination. Our job is to do a thorough investigation in the meantime. Anytime there is a questionable death, we have to approach it as if it’s a homicide.”

      She didn’t believe him. Maybe they had to wait on the official word, but her gut told her they were already building a case. Against her.

      “Would you be willing to submit to a gunpowder residue test? Just to help rule yourself out?”

      Lexie sat there for several seconds, weighing the request. She was really and truly screwed, wasn’t she? If Dan hadn’t killed himself—if he had instead been murdered—no one would buy her innocence, would they? She had opportunity and more than enough motive. And now they would have a residual test?

      She stood slowly, her gaze moving from the man who waited near the door—the reason for his presence now obvious—to the man in front of her, who stood between her and the back door.

      “It would be a waste of time,” she said.

      “Why’s that?”

      She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I spent part of my afternoon at the gun range, trying out a new pistol.”