Page 43 of Trace of Doubt
“Unless I’m blind, you’re fallin’ for her.”
I braced myself to deny the truth swirling through me like a twister. “Insane. Check out her record. I want the truth and the case closed.”
He chuckled. “Famous last words before the big dive into deep water. Are you in or not with the plan?”
“I’m in.”
“She walked here through the woods—and is waitin’ in the barn.”
“You assumed I’d agree before asking.”
“And I was right.”
I closed the blinds and doused the lights before we walked to retrieve Shelby, who sat in the shadows near Big Red’s stall but was no doubt afraid. I’d picked up on her fearlessness in the times we’d been together. Did the courage come from her prison experience or determination to clear herself of suspicion of theft? Or both? I might as well give in. Not only did I believe in her innocence, but I also was guilty of caring for Shelby, a convicted murderer. If I ended up looking stupid, I’d handle it.
We made our way back to the cabin. Once inside, we gathered at my small, round kitchen table.
“How long did you intend to stay out there?” I said to her.
“Until you agreed. Darkness can be a friend.”
Sounded like poetry, reminding me of what she wrote on the piece of paper stuck in her Bible.
She smiled at the sheriff. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. This is way after hours, and I’m sure your wife and family would prefer you were at home.”
“The family’s fine, and they understand my dedication to the law. Let’s get this plan figured out. As it is, we’ll be here most of the night.”
“I’ll make us coffee.” I’d purchased some of Amy-Jo’s blend. “We’re going to need it.”
“I could use a cup.” The sheriff adjusted his hat. “Shelby, I’ll speak to James Peterson later on this morning.”
She nodded. “I work until two if he needs to talk.”
“The parole officer is in on this?” I said.
“He has to be in the loop in case this goes south.”
“It’s not...,” she said. “I haven’t... Never mind.”
What did she almost say? It was after midnight, and brain fog had set in. “How do you plan to add credibility to a suicide?”
“Plant the seeds of ongoing depression with Pastor Emory, Amy-Jo, and Edie.” She drew in a deep breath. “I hate the ruse when those three have given me instant friendship and support. One of the regular bakery customers is a drug dealer.” She shook her head. “I can smell them coming, and I didn’t need Amy-Jo to tell me his profession. I’ll talk to him where she can see. My death will look like an overdose, and it will play into the threats I’ve received. I’ll leave a note and request cremation.”
I just figured out my role. “You want me to find your body?”
“Yes, and help with a few key issues.”
“I can make it happen through the FBI,” I said.
The sheriff cleared his throat. “This is beginnin’ to sound like a movie where I can’t predict the endin’.”
“The good guys win.” I chuckled while pouring water into the coffee maker.
“Hope so. Hey, we need to think through a potential hidin’ place for the money.”
Shelby shrugged. “I’ll work on wording it for the suicide note. I have to make it seem like a depressed person’s trying to right past wrongs. Perhaps I could reveal that everything to find the stolen money is in my Bible, and I’ll take it with me.”
I liked the idea and said so. “The sheriff and I could make it known that we’re looking for the money trail, but we can’t find your Bible.”
