She pulled into the parking lot of the station and turned off the vehicle. She looked at him. “How can you be objective? Your brother is dead because I arrested him and stuck him in a cell with a crazy person. How can you not blame me, too?”
“For starters, you didn’t know the guy was crazy. And second, my brother is dead because he made some really bad choices. I don’t blame you, I blame Neil and the guy who killed him. Period. Those are the only two who deserve the blame.”
“Like you said, your parents don’t feel that way.”
Jordan closed his eyes, remembering his father’s confrontation of Katie at the morgue. Paul Gray had stared daggers at Katie. “You killed my son!”
Katie had winced and held out a hand. “I’m so sorry this happened. Neil ran a stop sign right in front of me. I pulled him over and he was—”
“You did this. You!” He’d jabbed a finger, stopping millimeters from her chest, cutting off her sorrowful words. “Neil called me. Said he didn’t know why he’d been arrested, that it was a case of mistaken identity. You made a mistake, and an innocent boy died because of it. I hope you can sleep tonight knowing how well you did your duty.” The thick sarcasm cut.
“Sir—”
His father had turned on his heel and marched away, never looking back. And Jordan had just stood there and let the man blast Katie. Then again, he’d wanted to do the same thing. Before he’d learned the truth about everything. That Neil was into drugs, buying, selling and using. And he was in deep.
The pain of that day swept over him once again.
The agony on Katie’s face shook him. “He wasn’t innocent like your parents believe, but Neil shouldn’t have died because of that choice,” she reiterated with a whisper.
“No, he shouldn’t have.” Jordan rubbed a hand down his face. “This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”
“Mostly.”
He nodded. “All right. We’ve gotten this far in talking about it, but we’ll have to finish this conversation later. Let’s go see what our prisoner has to say.”
Katie nodded and climbed from the car.
* * *
Katie stepped into the police station. Jordan nodded to an officer and said, “I want to speak to Kurt over there. His father and mine are friends. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
She nodded and took a right down a long hallway. She stopped in front of a room labeled Interrogation Room #2 and took a deep breath.
Questioning a suspect always gave her an adrenaline rush. Mr. Wesley Wray was no different. She knew Jordan would be watching from the observation window. Katie stepped into the interrogation room and dropped a file on the table in front of Wray. She sat across from him and settled one hand on top of the file. His eyes followed her movement. She asked, “You’ve got quite a history of breaking into places, don’t you?”
His gaze snapped up to meet hers. He narrowed his eyes, leaned back and crossed his arms. “So?”
She shrugged and kept her voice conversationally light. “What do you do when you’re not in jail, Mr. Wray? Do you have a family?”
His brow furrowed. She’d confused him. “Yeah. I got a wife and a kid that live over behind the Beacon.”
The Beacon. One of Spartanburg’s most well-known landmarks. Anyone who came through the city as a tourist stopped to eat there. But one didn’t want to live behind it. It was one of the toughest areas in town, where residents kept their doors locked and their weapons nearby.
“So I want to know, out of all the houses in Spartanburg, what made you pick mine?”
“I told you, Detective, it was empty and looked like an easy hit. I thought I’d be in and out before anyone got home. End of story.”
She leaned in. “Oh, no. I think there’s a lot more to that story than you’re telling, and we’re not going anywhere until I’m satisfied you’ve given me quite a few more details. Why did you ask about my laptop? Is there something on there you’re interested in?”
For a brief second, Wray looked startled, a deer caught in the headlights, then he sneered and leaned forward, the tic alongside his mouth betraying his emotion. “Look, lady—”
“That’s ‘detective.’”
“Detective,” Wray sneered. His face cleared, the tic stopped. “There’s nothing else to tell. I needed some cash for a hit. Your house looked ripe.”
Katie studied him. “You’re not a junkie.”
He lifted a brow and shrugged. “I didn’t say the hit was for me.”
She slammed a hand on the table and he jumped. “Quit playing me! What were you doing in my house?”
* * *
Jordan shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. If he didn’t, the temptation to burst into the investigation room and wrap his fingers around Wray’s throat might just be too much for him.
He slid a glance at Gregory Lee, Katie’s partner. The man had come when he’d heard the call over his radio. Jordan said, “She holds her own, doesn’t she?”
“She’s sharp. Can spot a lie a mile away. Only you know as well as I do she shouldn’t be in there questioning him.”
“I know. You going to get in there and tell her to get out?”
“In a minute or two.”
Jordan smothered a smile. Gregory was a good partner. He stood about two inches over six feet, and Jordan knew he’d just celebrated his thirty-third birthday, because one of Katie’s excuses for not meeting with him last week was because she had a birthday party to attend for her partner.
“You have any thoughts on why Wray would have been in Katie’s house?”
Lee shook his head. “No.”
“Any cases y’all are working bring anything to mind?”
Gregory finally looked at him. “Nothing in particular. Why? You don’t think this was a random thing?”
“Do you?”
Gregory shrugged. “Cops don’t have any special protection when it comes to a breaking and entering.”
“I know. It just seems...odd. He breaks into her house at five-thirty on a Tuesday afternoon. That’s about the time a lot of people are coming home from work. Why risk being spotted by a neighbor or the homeowner walking in on him...like Katie did.”
“Good questions.” Gregory eyed him. “Why don’t you pass those on to Katie?”
“She’ll think of them.”
Katie looked up and scratched her nose.
Gregory said, “That’s my cue.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s not pushing. She’s going to let me push the guy.” He shot Jordan a look. “Guess I’ll get to ask those questions.” He slipped from the observation room and soon was in the interrogation room. Katie pressed the file into his hands and within seconds joined Jordan. “You look tired,” he said.
“Tired and frustrated.”
Jordan nodded. “I understand. But just one question.”
“What’s that?”
“If Wray didn’t pick your home by accident,