Page 127 of Wild Embers
“One more thing,” Roman adds. “People lie.”
I wait.
“Evidence and behavior don’t. Find where your victims actually died. I don’t think the original crime scenes are where you found them.”
Digging through the glove compartment, I fish out an uncapped pen and an old receipt from Main Street Diner. I jot the note from Roman on the back of the thermal paper.
“We’ll start looking.” Dropping the paper and pen onto the bench seat, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What I still don’t have is motive.”
Roman is quiet for a moment.
“You do.”
My brows furrow. “No?—”
“You just don’t recognize it yet.”
“Thanks, Obi-Wan,” I retort.
“I’m more like Qui-Gon Jinn.”
I huff a single laugh. Roman’s attempt to lighten the mood works for a half second, but then that moment ends.
“Do you want me out there?” Roman proposes. “I can have this transferred if you want another set of eyes.”
His offer doesn’t surprise me.
What does is the part of me that almost says yes.
“No,” I respond. “You just got settled in San Francisco.”
Roman sighs. “Walk…”
“I’m serious,” I affirm.
“Me too,” he counters. “If this goes sideways, I don’t care what city I’m assigned to, I’ll be there.”
I stare through the windshield toward Santiago’s house.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Another beat of silence.
“Something else is bothering you, Walk.”
I scoff. “No.”
“You’ve been lying to people your whole career, Sheriff Maddox, and I hope you’re better at it with others than you were just now.”
I don’t respond. I don’t have to. He knows me too well.
“What it is…” his voice softens, “don’t carry it by yourself.”
“Thanks, Rome.”
“Call me when you find the connection,” Roman requests.
“If,” I correct.
