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think that’s why she called Wyatt? Maybe he was paying her for sex.” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. You notice anything odd about Emily and Wyatt’s relationship?”

“They seemed like a normal married couple. Wyatt’s a bit distant, so I don’t have much of a read on him. I honestly didn’t really see them around each other much,” Kimberley said.

She stepped out of the SUV before she changed her mind. She hoped she wouldn’t have to search the whole farm to find Wyatt, because her legs felt heavy, like she was walking through wet cement. Sam stayed a few feet behind her, letting her take the lead. Kimberley walked around the big white farmhouse toward the outbuildings, where she figured she’d find her step-brother-in-law.

“Fuck,” she said out loud when she spotted Wyatt up ahead near the barn.

He was sitting on a bale of hay beside David, drinking glasses of lemonade. Emily and Nicole stood beside them with Emily holding a pitcher of the freshly squeezed drink. It was a picture-perfect scene, and Kimberley was about to destroy it. Why couldn’t Nicole be in her cottage? Why couldn’t Emily be cleaning that massive farmhouse? She glanced back at Sam.

“I can still take the lead if ya want,” he offered.

She turned her head away, shaking it. This was her responsibility.

David tapped Wyatt on the shoulder, pointing at Kimberley and Sam. They were just thirty yards away. Emily and Nicole turned around and waved. But when they saw the stern look on their faces, they slowly dropped their hands and their smiles.

“Morning,” David called out.

Kimberley and Sam nodded as they closed in, joining in the half circle.

“What’s going on?” Nicole’s eyes widened, bouncing from Kimberley to David and back again.

Kimberley took a wide stance, asserting her authority in this situation.

“Wyatt Miller, we need you to come down to the sheriff’s station for formal questioning in regard to the murder of Hannah Brown.” Kimberley raised her chin slightly.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” David rose from his seat. Anger attached to his voice, while red creeped up his neck like a curtain being drawn. Kimberley noticed his hands clench into stiff fists, so instinctively her hand hovered near her trusty Glock.

Emily’s mouth dropped open.

“Kimberley, what are you doing?” Nicole asked, her voice as tight as a drum.

“My job, Mom.”

Kimberley redirected her attention back to Wyatt. “You can come with us voluntarily or we can come back with an arrest warrant. Your choice.”

Wyatt let out a deep breath and stood from his seat. He drained the rest of his lemonade and handed the empty glass to Emily, who already had tears in her eyes.

“It’ll be fine,” he whispered to her.

Before Wyatt could take a step forward, David’s hand shot up to his shoulder, holding him in place. “Don’t. You don’t have to go with them.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide.” Wyatt pushed past David.

Nicole shook her head sadly at Kimberley as Wyatt walked past her and Sam, heading toward the vehicle.

“I…” Kimberley stopped herself before she apologized. She had nothing to apologize for. She was doing her job. “I’ll be home late. Could you pick up, Jessica?”

Nicole pressed her lips firmly together. After a few moments, she nodded.

“Thanks.” Kimberley turned away.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this! We’re supposed to be friends, stepsisters, you bitch,” Emily yelled out.

Kimberley flinched, pausing for a second. Without looking back, she followed Sam to the car. Emily’s anger had turned to sadness as her cries traveled across the field, stalking Kimberley all the way to the vehicle.

Sam put Wyatt in the back of the SUV.

“Now, let’s go get your friend,” Sam said, closing the car door.

23

“Go ahead and stay in the car.” Sam killed the engine. “I’ll go and fetch the town dipshit.” He strolled into The Trophy Room, acknowledging several patrons outside with a tip of his head.

Kimberley sat in the front, looking out the windshield and glancing back in the rearview mirror at Wyatt. He hadn’t said a word on their drive over. His head was lolled to the side as if he were too tired to hold it up. His eyes were bloodshot. Heavy bags hung below them. Kimberley could see how exhausted and rundown he was. She figured he wouldn’t last long under her line of questioning.

A loud bang startled Kimberley and she almost sprung out of the vehicle, before she realized it was the door to The Trophy Room being kicked open by Sam. He had Ryan by the collar of his shirt. Ryan wasn’t so much fighting as he just couldn’t get his footing. Sam’s impatience had worn thin, and he was clearly taking it out on Ryan.

Sam tossed Ryan in the backseat of the vehicle, slamming the door closed.

“What the fuck? I gotta close up the bar. My old man isn’t here,” Ryan yelled.

Sam got in the driver’s seat. “I’ll give him a call when we get to the station,” he said.

“Shit. My dad’s gonna be pissed.”

Ryan kicked Kimberley’s seat.

“Do it again, and you’ll be riding in the trunk,” Kimberley warned, turning back and narrowing her eyes at him.

Ryan crossed his arms in front of his chest and slumped down into his seat. He looked over at Wyatt. “They got you too, bro. Damn.”

Wyatt didn’t say a word. His eyes frozen forward, as if attached by a pair of strings to an object that no one else could see, and his body still, save for the rising and falling of his chest.

Standing in the hallway outside of the interrogation room, Sam scratched at his chin. “Who should we start with?”

“Wyatt already looked like he was going to collapse in on himself like a dying star,” Kimberley said.

“Then let’s start with Ryan. I like a challenge. And the longer wait will only fatigue Wyatt more,” Sam said.

Kimberley nodded. “I had Bearfield pull them from the holding cell. Wyatt’s in the interrogation room, and Ryan’s in that empty office next door to it.”

“Good.”

“Here you both are,” Barb said, holding out two mugs of coffee.

Kimberley thanked

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