The Good Neighbor

“She did,” Megan said. “Her father had begun the collection, and she had a story to go with many of the coins.”

“And you think this has something to do with Robby’s death?”

She met his gaze. “I don’t know. It just seems strange, you know?” She sighed. “The second part of this…Robby accused me of stealing from her.”

“Were you?” The question so calm, so much still like two friends talking. Even so, her heart pounded.

“No. I wouldn’t do that.” She clasped her hands on top of the table, mentally repeating, the truth will set you free.

“So, you’re telling me you’re not a gold digger.”

“Good grief, what do you take me for?” She stared at him, seeing an attractive man with penetrating brown eyes and a half smile. His posture was relaxed, an ankle drawn over the opposite knee, everything in his demeanor open. Friendly. Not at all like his stern-faced boss.

And yet, there was the accusation. The motive they thought she had, she realized. Swallowing, she looked away from the eyes that she had taken for kind.

“What’s the second thing?” he asked. She must have given him a blank look because he tacked on, “You said you had two things to tell me. Missing coins and…”

“When Robby showed up a couple of weeks ago, he complained about being broke. Then, a few days after he got here, he wasn’t, and he flaunted it.”

“And?”

“I think he was stealing from Helen.” She paused and looked away for a second, too aware of Wade’s focused energy directed at her. “Helen mentioned that she had misplaced a bracelet she often wore—a gold bangle. I’m talking real gold, not some piece of costume jewelry.”

“And that’s when you confronted Robby?”

Megan shook her head. “Not then. I didn’t even make the connection until a few days later. Lou Gessner, the woman who owns the pawnshop, is in my Bible-study group. I asked her if she ever had any bangle bracelets, and she said one had just come into her shop a few days earlier. Then, the following Saturday morning, I saw him coming out of the pawnshop holding his money.”

“Are you accusing this woman of accepting stolen goods?”

“Of course not,” she said in defense of her friend, who was one of the most honest, forthright people she knew. “How is she supposed to know until she hears back from the police after she submits her reports?”

“Sounds like you know a lot about it.”

“That’s because I asked her,” Megan said evenly, despite the accusation that once more laced Detective Prescott’s voice.

“And that morning—what day was that?”

“Last Saturday.”

“And you confronted him?”

“I did.” Megan felt her throat close as she remembered those moments, now wishing they had never happened. “We got into it, and to be honest, I don’t remember exactly what I said to him, but I do remember telling him that he was a thief and he didn’t deserve to be Helen’s grandson…and that she would be better off without him. Mr. Johansen saw us, and I’m sure he’ll tell you pretty much the same thing if you ask him.”

“You do realize what you’re telling me, don’t you?”

Megan opened her mouth to speak, then stopped when the detective held up his hand.

“If Johansen corroborates your story and says that you threatened Robby Russell…” His eyes bore into hers, and something there softened imperceptibly. “You need a lawyer.”

She nodded her head. “Is this the part where you tell me that I’m a suspect?”

“Yeah.” His voice turned gravelly. “At the moment, you’re my only suspect.”

FOUR

You’re my only suspect. The statement was at odds with Wade Prescott’s gentle expression she kept seeing in his eyes, despite his tough demeanor.

Megan had weighed the risks before deciding to be so open, and she really had believed this would all be okay. This was all so surreal that the urge to laugh bubbled up when Megan remembered how she had felt this morning when she had first walked out of her house. This was to have been a perfect day. It had all the ingredients—crisp autumn weather, a patient who was progressing well under her care, a life that pleased her. She had an equal urge to cry over how the day had turned out. Unfair as all this was, the day had been a far worse one for Helen Russell, a thought that burned behind Megan’s eyes.

She met Wade’s gaze, which had softened. She really wished he’d stop looking at her that way because it made her want to like him.