Page 91 of Hell Hath No Fury

“You do,” Emma said firmly.

“But you can’t fix me.” Nell tapped the side of her head with one finger. “Only I can fix me.”

Emma studied her sister, wondering if Nell meant what Emma thought she did.

“I’m not going to kill myself.” Nell lifted her chin. “As soon as I find an alibi for Eric, I’m going to check myself back into rehab.”

* * *

Matthias leaned against the dump truck the guy had been working on earlier. He had a clear view of the local police car idling on the construction site’s road, emergency lights sending sweeping blue and red beacons like a ground-level lighthouse, slicing through the night. Officer Havelka, who now sat in his cruiser illuminated by the dome light, had taken Matthias’s license and police credentials after listening to his story of doing some unauthorized investigating. He figured the truth was the best choice and hoped he’d get some leniency for being a fellow brother in blue. However, with each passing minute the officer sat in his car, running Matthias’s information and speaking with God-knows-who on his phone, Matthias grew more uneasy.

He’d been told to “sit” and “stay” as though he was a K9 instead of a police detective. After checking his watch for the umpteenth time, he considered storming over to the car and asking what the hell was going on.

The rumble of a diesel engine entered his consciousness, and headlights appeared on the road leading to the construction site. Matthias watched as a pickup approached, slowed, pulled in, and parked behind the cruiser.

Patrick Winslow stepped out.

Matthias swore. After trying to chase the guy down for the last few days, all it took was Matthias getting busted for trespassing to have him show up. He pushed off the dump and strode toward him.

Havelka exited his vehicle and was speaking in low tones with Winslow when Matthias drew near. The officer cut off the conversation and turned to him. “I told you to stay over there.”

“I have been. For the last…” He again checked his watch. “… fifteen minutes. Surely you’ve had time to confirm I’m who I said I was.”

“I have,” Havelka said. “You are indeed an Erie City detective, which means you’re nothing more than a civilian here. I want you to wait for me over there.” He pointed his pen toward the dump truck.

Matthias didn’t move except to shift his gaze to Winslow. “I’ve been trying to track you down. I need to speak with you.”

Any response Winslow might have tried to make was cut off by another vehicle’s arrival. Matthias turned to see a now-familiar unmarked sedan pull up next to the pickup. Fergusson and Lukan stepped out, dressed in jeans and jackets, looking less like state police investigators and more like two guys who’d been roused from bed in the middle of the night.

Fergusson marched up to Matthias, glaring. “Why can’t you just go back to Erie and let us do our jobs? In the daylight.”

Matthias lowered his voice so only Fergusson heard it. “Why don’t you work the case so I don’t have to?”

A muscle in the trooper’s jaw twitched. “You have no idea what we’ve been doing.”

“Then tell me.”

“Go wait by the dump truck, Honeywell. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Matthias studied each man in turn. Fergusson. Winslow. Havelka. And Lukan. None of them showed any signs of saying one more word in his presence. With a guttural growl, he pivoted and headed back to the dump.

Behind him, he heard Fergusson say, “Sorry you had to come out tonight, Mr. Winslow. We have everything under control now. You can go.”

Matthias wheeled, clenching his jaw to keep from shouting, “No!” After three days of just missing Winslow, here he was, and Fergusson was dismissing him before letting Matthias say one word to the man. Fergusson must’ve been reading his mind, because he fixed Matthias with a look that spoke loud and clear.Make one move, and I’ll arrest you for…

Fill in the blank. Trespassing, obstructing a police investigation, destruction of property. The last one was debatable since it would take less than a minute to nail the plywood back over the window.

Winslow trudged to his pickup and drove off.

As Matthias watched, Fergusson had a conversation with the officer, who handed something to the trooper before also getting into his car and leaving the construction site.

Fergusson sauntered over to Matthias and held out his driver’s license and badge wallet. “Here you go, Honeywell.”

Matthias accepted and pocketed his credentials.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here in the middle of the night?”

“Looking for building supplies,” Matthias replied. “Specifically, glass panels.”