“That gave the intruder a thirty-minute window. Did the police consider a burglary gone wrong? Someone who knew that you left at the same time every morning?”
“How could it be a burglary? The only things missing were a knife from the kitchen block and your box of books. There’s an envelope of cash still in my dresser drawer.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Was he with you?”
“He? I was…” I hesitated, confused. Was he asking about the intruder? Or…“Do you mean Nick? I went alone. The neighbor saw me alone in my car. What made you think Nick would be with me?”
“I don’t know what I think, I’m just worried about you.” Jarret picked up his fork and played with his food. “The killer smeared a witchcraft symbol in blood on Laycee’s back. That devil crap is your boy’s thing, isn’t it?”
“If you’re asking if the occult is Nick’s field of interest, yes. Was he at your house? No. And since when do you recognize mysterious symbols?”
“Ira e-mailed a photo of Laycee’s body to his office. They messaged back confirming the mark was witchcraft.”
I pushed my plate to the side, glaring. “There are so many disgusting things wrong with Ira taking a photo that I can’t even comment. Who decided Nick and I were suspects? You, or Ira?”
“Maybe we should change the subject.” Jarret beckoned the waiter for the check. “My lawyer warned me against talking too much.”
“Excuse me, but you brought this up. Say it out loud, Jarret. Do you seriously believe I killed Laycee?”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t think you did. But when Ira and my lawyer found out you came there that morning…” He opened his hands and shrugged.
“They decided to accuse me of murder?” I bit down, struggling to keep my voice low. “That’s insane. How would I possibly know Laycee was at your house? If I knew, I wouldn’t have driven up there.”
“You hated her.”
“Your words, not mine. As far as I’m concerned, I left Laycee Huber behind in Atlanta years ago. You told your lawyer and the police I hated her?”
“The cops tried to blame me for her murder. I was desperate. I had to tell them something to take the attention off me. I remembered you asking if I knew she was in town the other day.”
I rolled my eyes. “So? That means I hate her?”
“Kyle said you threatened her at the ball game.”
“I didn’t. What else?”
“You called Ira to ask if they identified her.”
Slowly shaking my head in utter disbelief, I said, “You’re twisting the truth. I saw a news report and called your house, worried about you.”
“Listen, I’m sorry I brought you into this but—well, everyone is a suspect until the cops find the murderer. Just watch yourself, Lizzie-Bear. Be careful of who you talk to and what you say.”
“Take your own advice.” I threw my napkin on the table and began to slide out of the booth. On a whim, I turned back to him. “Have you ever heard of Herrick Schelz?”
“Schlitz?”
“Schelz, like shelf with a ‘z’ at the end.”
“No,” Jarret said. “Why? Should I know him?”
“Never mind. Not important.”
Chapter Thirteen
A chorus of cicadas pierced the air on my march through the hot parking lot toward my car. The high-pitched rasping bit on my nerves—raw, thanks to Jarret’s big mouth. Lovely. I rubbed the bridge of my nose to ease a growing headache.
If I dripped sweat in a skirt and sleeveless blouse, the hefty man in a suit and tie lumbering across the blazing hot parking lot had to be suffocating. He stopped at his car, glancing over at me. We recognized each other at the same time.
I wove through rows of cars until I reached his side, clasping his arm. “Forrest, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” Forrest Huber pushed a thin hair off his liver-spotted forehead, looking at me through dull eyes draped with loose pouches of skin. Lean and distinguished the last time I saw him, now his protruding stomach jammed at the buttons of his white shirt like a coronary waiting to happen.
“Is there anything I can do?” I said.
His jaw clenched. “Tell me how and why this happened. Laycee came out here to visit you. I don’t understand why she was at Jarret’s house or in his bed.”
“Were the police able to give you any information?”
“Not yet. They won’t even tell me how she got to Jarret’s house in the first place. What was she doing there?” He snatched my wrist with fury flashing in his eyes. “Was she sleeping with him?”
“I don’t know.” I eased his hand off with a gentle squeeze to calm him. I pitied his frustration—Forrest had doted over Laycee like a prize and watched her like a coveted possession. Laycee and Jarret’s encounter, whatever it was, wasn’t my story to tell.
“I only have Jarret’s old number, give me his new one,” Forrest said.
“I’d like to help you, but Jarret doesn’t give out his number. I have to respect his wishes.”
“Why?”
“Did you just get to town?” I said, avoiding his question.