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All of a sudden, he wasn't deputy Hunter, but the guy who cut her grass on Sunday mornings. He almost smiled but then looked into Eliza's wide brown eyes and something in his belly flopped. "I just have a few questions, Miss Brock."

  Chapter 2

  These had to be the worst twenty-four hours of her life. First she'd had a run-in with her ex-boyfriend, Jay, the night before and now this. Eliza wished she could go back to bed, climb under the covers and sleep for the rest of the week.

  Mark Hunter crouched in front of her. His serious hazel eyes met hers. Apprehensive at him being so close, she straightened.

  A lock of his dark blond hair fell over his brow and stuck to his sweat-moistened forehead. Although he maintained a professional distance, it still felt as if the gorgeous man was too close for comfort.

  She squirmed when his eyes moved to the bruise on the side of her face. The makeup she'd worn had no doubt washed away from crying. Even with heavy foundation and powder, it had been visible, now probably more so.

  "Can you tell me how you came to see Eddie?"

  After a fortifying breath she recounted. "I came down from my apartment, like always, to head to work. When I saw Eddie sitting in his truck, I waved." She looked past him toward the windows. "I thought it was strange that he didn't acknowledge me and seemed to be staring into space, so I waved again. When I got closer, that's when I saw his neck was cut and all the blood."

  Mark nodded and wrote something on a small pad she'd not noticed before. "Why did you assume he was dead?"

  The picture of Eddie Mason's unseeing eyes came back to her full force and she swallowed. "I don't know. Is he alive then? It's just that his eyes, he looked straight ahead and he didn't seem to be breathing."

  "He's dead."

  Her gut clenched, she didn't know Eddie well, more of a casual acquaintance. What had the man done to get murdered like that?

  When Mark remained silent as if in thought, Eliza hoped she could leave and go to work. Pretend it was a normal day. Unfortunately the deputy didn't seem inclined to let her leave just yet. He rose and sat on the chair Mrs. Miller had vacated. Once again he studied her face, without expression. "Did you see anyone walking away from Eddie's truck?"

  "No. I wasn't really paying much attention prior to seeing Eddie, but I'm positive no one passed me."

  "So no one walked by you in the street then?" He asked once again meeting her eyes. The guy was extremely handsome. That coupled with her bruise and probably swollen eyes and red nose made her want to move away.

  "The only person I saw this morning was Cassie Tucker when she arrived at her cupcake shop. I saw her through the window about a half an hour before leaving my apartment. That was about it."

  The cupcake shop was a caddie-corner across the street from where Eddie's truck was parked and directly across the street from her small apartment above the real estate office. "Did you hear any arguing or voices prior to leaving your apartment? Perhaps spotted something when you looked out the window?"

  She shook her head. "No only Cassie and just before that I had the blow dryer going and usually the radio is playing so I don't hear much until I walk outside."

  "And you didn't hear or see anyone when you stepped outside your door?"

  Eliza thought hard trying to put her morning routine back together. "Someone may have walked past as I went down the stairs. But I didn't pay attention to who it was. I think a man, but I couldn't say for sure."

  "Who hit you?"

  She'd convinced herself he wasn't going to ask the question. When he did Eliza's mouth fell open and her heart skipped.

  Before she could answer he interrupted. "And don't tell me you walked into a door."

  "I'd rather not speak about it." She jutted out her chin somehow mustering the courage to meet his gaze evenly. "It has nothing to do with this. Can I go now? I'm already an hour late for work."

  He rose to his full height of about six-two and nodded. "Thank you for waiting to answer my questions."

  Eliza stood as well and decided it was best to tell him the only other information she knew. "Eddie and Jay Garrett had a fist fight a couple days ago. I doubt Jay had anything to do with this, but maybe he knows something."

  A frown crossed his face and he looked at her for a few seconds. "Thank you. Take care of that bruise."

  Eliza looked to Mrs. Miller, who stood behind the counter and gave her a soft smile. "Thank you for the tea." She placed the cup on a small table and rushed from the hardware store. Her heart was beating erratically and her breathing was shallow. After all the crap she'd been through the last couple days, the last thing she needed was to pass out in the street, so she took a deep breath.

  The deputy was handsome. She’d admired him when he stopped by the diner. She’d often wondered if the dated anyone.

  "Stop being an idiot," she mumbled out loud to herself. "And you shut up," she told her stupid pounding heart.

  * * *

  The rest of the day went fast and wasn't too bad, all things considered. Since she mainly stayed in the restaurant’s kitchen, it was easy to ignore all the conversations. Lovely Diner was full the entire time, everyone congregating to discuss the murder. All day the buzz of voices, a steady stream congested the place with nervous energy. Each person who walked in was either questioned about what they knew or filled in.

  Eliza plated the last order of hash brown casserole and eggs, the diner's bestseller and placed the dish onto the countertop to her right. She shuffled to the swinging doors and opened them to peer out. The restaurant was still packed with familiar faces. Anxious people who hoped to glean a new tidbit of information reassuring them Eddie's murder was an isolated incident.

  The thought of going home alone brought equal parts nerves and anticipation to get away from all the speculation. With a nervous sigh, she wasn't sure if being alone was a good idea, but she didn't have any relatives near. Other than Cassie at the cupcake shop, her only acquaintance was Mrs. Miller.

  When Phil, the burly owner of the diner came to take over cooking, she waved him off. "I've decided to stay a bit longer. I'm not ready to head home just yet."

  Phil gave her an understanding look, his bushy brows knitted together. "All right, you let me know when you're ready and I'll ask one of the guys to walk you home."

  Chapter 3

  If the front yard was any indication of what he'd find inside, Mark wasn't excited at the prospect of entering the Mason's home. There were black trash bags beside the driveway, which looked to have been three for a long time by the fact some had started to deteriorate. He pulled up past the mailbox, which leaned at such a sharp angle he wondered how the postal worker managed to get mail into it.

  The old clapboard house used to be white, now closer to gray was the same style as other houses surrounding it, but the others were better maintained. He stepped onto the porch and took in the rickety screen door, a corner of the screening flopped down and the cording hung past the handle. Not much in the way of bug protection, Mark thought pulling it open to knock.

  A few seconds after he rapped, a skinny woman wearing a dingy tank top with no bra underneath and jean cut-off shorts opened the door. Her reddened eyes immediately raked over his body making Mark feel as if he needed to go home and shower. With very hot water.

  "Hello." Her voice was raspy from too many cigarettes. She reached up to her hair and attempted to pat down the tangled mess with no visible results. "You wanna come in?" She took a step back.

  Since she was barefoot, he saw the remnants of red polish on her neglected toenails.

  "No. Thank you. Mrs. Shelly Mason?"

  She leaned against the doorjamb and attempted a seductive pose, her right hand on her non-existent hip. "Who wants to know?"

  She knew who he was. Shelly Mason had been arrested for driving under the influence a year earlier and he'd been the one to process her after Sheriff Clark brought her in.

  "I'm deputy Hunter," he told her, showing his badge.

  "Yes, well, w
hat can I do for you?" Her eyes pinpointed the region between his legs and he fought not to roll his eyes.

  "I have bad news, ma'am." He plunged right in, sure it was the wrong way to approach the situation, but at the same time, he didn't think Shelly Mason was the type to be too solicitous with. "Your husband was killed this morning."

  Her eyebrows rose. "Really? Hmmm. What happened to him?"

  Not exactly sure what to make of her lack of reaction, he regarded her searching for a sign of grief. "He was found in his truck this morning." He decided for now to keep the details to himself.

  Her eyes shifted side to side as she took in the news. "You sure he's dead?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Is there anyone you'd like me to call for you? I need to ask you a few questions."

  She waived her hand in the air, dismissing his first question. "Where is he?"

  "At the coroner's office."

  "Well, shit. When can I see him?"

  "I can call you after I speak to Doctor Wilkes. Mr. Mason's body won't be released for at least a couple days."

  She stepped outside and Mark moved back to allow her to plop down on the top step of the small porch. From her back pocket, she produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and proceeded to light up one.

  After a long drag from the cancer stick, she let out a cloud of smoke. "Damn. I didn't expect Eddie to die."

  "Can I call someone for you?" Mark repeated.

  She looked up and down the street as if to see if someone might come to mind. "Nah."

  "Mrs. Mason, is there anyone who would want to kill your husband?"

  The woman shrugged. "Not really. I mean he could be a pain in the ass, but most of the time he kept to himself."

  Once again it struck him as odd that she didn't seem overly grieved at her husband's death. "How long were you married?"

  The question seemed to take her aback because her eyes widened and her mouth went slack. "Shit, I don't know. Let me see...about twelve...no thirteen years."

  He crouched to ensure a good look at her expressions. As much as he hated cigarette smoke, it couldn't be avoided. Mark lowered to his haunches. "Did Eddie mention anyone he'd had an altercation with, or argument of any type?"

  "Nope," she responded immediately. "He just came home, dropped on the couch and watched TV ‘til he fell asleep. Barely spoke to me."

  "Were you having marital problems then?"

  At the question, she let out a bark of laughter. "No, just the way we got along is all."

  "What about you? Anyone angry at you about something?"

  She shrugged and took another draw of nicotine. "Nah. I keep to myself too. Don't have a car right now so when Eddies goes to work, I'm stuck here all damn day."

  "Please let me know if you think of anything." He handed her a business card and thanked her for her time. Once again asked if she wanted him to get someone for her.

  Shelly Mason shook her head and stayed on the front stoop smoking a second cigarette as he drove off.

  * * *

  Park Street ran across Main, Malone's garage was a couple miles down from the center of town. With no other alternative, Mark parked across the street from the car repair shop, as they seemed to be doing brisk business. Either that or people were there to find out what they could about the murder. Mark cursed under his breath. If whoever did this had an accomplice, they were getting their stories straight before he got to them. Then again, he reminded himself this was a small town. Not exactly seasoned murderers who understood the ropes of how to get away with killing someone.

  He was thankful when Deputy Scott pulled up behind him and got out of his truck. Reddened eyes from lack of sleep met his. "Figured you might need help." Carson Scott was tall, very tall. Mark guessed about six-five with the shoulders of a linebacker, muscular arms and a trim waist. It was easy to underestimate the younger cop's ability to sprint, unless you knew he used to be the football team's running back in high school.

  "I do, thanks. Newton is short-handed. They sent a crime scene unit of two. From what I heard from Jerry Pike, they took pictures, footprint molds, Eddie's truck and left." Mark took out a stick of Juicy Fruit gum and popped it in his mouth. "Said they can't afford to send someone to help."

  "What can I do?" Scott looked toward the garage. "Are we going to separate them and question one by one?" Deputy Scott was a good man, but at twenty-four had only served in Lovely and had no real field experience. Nonetheless, he would be learning fast in the next few days how twisted a murder investigation could get.

  "Yeah. First we're going to talk to Jay Garrett. Seems he had a quarrel with the deceased a couple days ago."

  They walked into the car pit area and spotted Garrett. Mark motioned to him with his hand. "Jay Garrett, I need to talk to you," Mark called.

  Immediately Garrett took off at a sprint. He ran around the building and down the street. The guy didn't even bother to drop a wrench, or maybe he planned to use it if they caught up to him.

  Scott gave Mark a quick shrug and took off after Garrett. Giving the younger man the drop on the guy, Mark ran after them.

  Within minutes Scott tackled the smaller man to the ground. Jay was smart enough to toss the wrench when Scott came up on him. Both men rolled Jay to his stomach and Mark handcuffed him. Once Jay stopped struggling, they yanked him to his feet.

  Jay was panting and cursing the whole time. His eyes darted from Mark to Scott. "I don't think it's fuckin' legal for him to tackle me. That's assault." He spit out dirt and attempted to jerk his arm from Scott's hold.

  He stood about five-ten with the build of someone who'd spent more time in the bar than the gym lately.

  "It's just as illegal to run from an officer," Mark said, pinning him with a droll look. "Why'd you run?"

  "The bitch is lying," Jay responded. "I didn't hit her."

  Mark deduced he spoke of Eliza Brock and it took all his restraint not to give the guy a real reason to call assault by punching him square in the face.

  Scott must have sensed Mark's barely held back anger because he yanked Jay's arm up. "So you were not arguing with Eliza last night in front of her apartment at about eight-thirty when I drove by and asked if everything was okay?"

  Jay lost some of his indignation and slumped forward. "That don't mean I hit her."

  "That's not why we're here." Holding Jay between them, they started walking back to Mark's cruiser and upon reaching it, they propped Jay against it and both stood in front of him blocking any chance of running again. "Where were you this morning at about nine-thirty or so?"

  His brown eyes darted from under his messy mop of hair from him to the Scott. "Oh, hell no. You not trying to pin Eddie's murder on me are ya?"

  Mark remained quiet. Jay's right cheek began to twitch. "It ain't no secret I don't like the guy, but I didn't kill him."

  "Same like you didn't hit Eliza Brock?" Scott asked with a cocked brow.

  Jay fidgeted. "Whatever. I didn't kill Eddie."

  "I heard you two got into a tussle." Mark kept his tone neutral. "What was that about?"

  "He owes me money. The bastard went and bought all kinds of shit and claimed not to have enough left to pay what he owes me. Plus he's always flirting with Eliza."

  It didn't miss Mark's notice that Jay used the present tense when speaking of Eddie.

  "Did you threaten him?"

  "I punched him in the gut and then I told him he had one week to pay me and to keep his paws off Eliza or else I was going to kick his ass good." Jay tried to pull off a threatening look. "I don't mind fighting someone, but I ain't about no killin.'"

  "Yeah, I get the drift, you don't mind using your fists on whoever is around you at the wrong time. Is that why you hit your girlfriend?"

  Jay shook his head. "I didn't hit her. She's not my girlfriend any more, can do what she wants. But Eddie is married, she don't need him eyeballing her."

  Mark turned him around to face the car and lifted his cuffed hands. The underneath of Jay's fingernails
was grimy as with most mechanics. The knuckles scarred, but nothing fresh that he could see.

  He grabbed his arm and turned him back around. "Where were you this morning?"

  This time Jay was more forthcoming. "I left my house about eight-thirty, got here to work at nine or so."

  "Or so?"

  "Hell I don't know for sure, it's not like I keep a watch on to track time or nothin'." His worry-filled eyes darted from Mark to Scott.

  Mark uncuffed Jay and the guy massaged his wrists while waiting for one of the deputies to release him. His gaze directed past them to where the workforce and customers had stopped pretending not to be watching.

  As much as he wanted to throw Jay in jail for hitting Eliza, he couldn't. She'd not complained. "Don't leave town and if your story doesn't check out, I'll be talking to you again."

  He motioned for Jay to go on and Scott watched Jay walk away, head down. "You think he did it?"

  "I don't know," Mark replied honestly. "Mason was killed by someone who didn't want a fight. I would think Jay would rather punch him a few times and then maybe stab him. I don't see him sneaking up and slashing the guy's throat. Especially if he owed him money."

  "So what now?"

  "We talk to Eddie's boss and coworkers and see if they have a different take on this. Maybe one of them saw something on their way to work this morning."

  Two hours later, the deputies headed to their vehicles. The owner Leroy Malone and the rest of the workers at the garage had alibis, either that or they covered for each other. Everyone knew about the animosity between Jay and Eddie Mason. But most said after the initial fight, they'd not argued or seemed overly angry at each other.

  Unfortunately no one saw anything on the way to work either.

  It was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 4

  After a few more hours at the diner, Eliza finally went home. The sun was setting, and dead on her feet, she was ready for a relaxing evening away from all the questions and speculations.