Page 15 of Ranger Devotion
“And yet she ended up dead. Murdered.”
His cheeks flushed. “What are you saying? That I had something to do with it?”
Annie stared him down. “Did you?”
“No.”
His denial was adamant, but Tate didn’t trust Preston an inch. He was a practiced liar, always had been, even in high school. But continuing to push on this line of questioning would only increase Preston’s ire. Taking a different tack, Tate placed a reassuring hand on his former friend’s shoulder. “Of course you wouldn’t hurt Kayla. Come on, let’s find your cell phone.”
Relief smoothed his features. “Thanks, man.”
The three of them walked back through the woods to the cabins. Annie’s expression was hard, and she refused to meet Tate’s eyes. His heart sank. Surely she knew he wasn’t buying Preston’s explanation. It was a common interrogation technique to lull the suspect into thinking everything was fine. People talked more when that happened.
Preston blanched when he saw Kayla lying on the icy ground. “What happened?”
“We don’t know yet.” Tate led him in a wide arc around the log, keeping him clear of the crime scene.
“Had to be that guy who attacked Annie in the parking lot last night.” Preston’s jaw clenched. “Someone followed Kayla here.”
Tate didn’t reply. Was Preston suggesting a motive for Kayla’s death to hide his own culpability? Or did he genuinely believe it?
The door to the cabin at the end of the row opened, and Caleb Riggins stepped out. The quiet guy who’d always sat in the back of their history class looked startled to see them.
Tate jerked his chin toward Caleb. “Annie, can you keep him away from the crime scene while I help Preston?”
“Sure.” She jogged away.
Was it his imagination, or was Annie relieved to get some distance from him?
Tate and Preston continued to Cabin 5. Plastic cups rested on the coffee table, one with bright red lipstick on the rim. Glass glittered across the tile floor, a light brown stain coating the wall opposite the couch. The scent of tequila hung thick.
Preston dove for the couch, rooting between the cushions until he came up with his phone. “Found it. Must’ve slipped out of my pocket.” He unlocked the screen and winced. “Jeez, she’s sent a million messages.”
Suspicious? His fiancée had reason to be. She was with a cheat. Tate crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. “Does she know that you and Kayla were talking before the reunion?”
Preston’s head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”
No one had. Tate had guessed his old friend hadn’t changed much since high school, and Preston was proving him right. The man had never been loyal, especially to his girlfriends. He’d cheated on Kayla dozens of times, which had caused fiery arguments. “How long have you been planning this hookup?”
Preston’s mouth thinned. “It’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?”
“That I cheated on my fiancée with Kayla. But I didn’t. Jessica and I have an arrangement. A don’t-ask-don’t-tell kind of thing.” He tapped on the phone screen, replying to a message. “It works for us.”
If that were true, his fiancée wouldn’t be sending frantic messages. And Preston wouldn’t be this desperate to reply. Still, Tate was willing to play along. “I assume Kayla knew about the arrangement and was okay with it?”
Guilt flitted over Preston’s face before he could hide it. He clicked his phone off. “Yeah, man.”
“Uh-huh. So…” Tate gestured toward the smashed liquor bottle. “What was the fight about?”
Preston said nothing, but his hand gripped the phone hard enough to turn his knuckles white. And Tate knew. “Your fiancée called. Or texted. Or both. And Kayla got mad.”
“Got mad? Man, she freaked out. Started screaming and threw the tequila bottle. I’m always up for a good time and a bit of crazy, but that was over the top.” His jaw set. “She knew the score. I never lied to her. No woman is worth that much trouble. So I left.”
“With Kayla?”
“No. I stormed off and left her here. Joined the guys in my cabin, had a few drinks, and then went to bed. You can ask Dylan. He’ll tell you.”
