Bailed Out (The Anna Albertini Files #2) - Rebecca Zanetti Page 0,30

here. I’m the client, right?”

“Right,” Clark said grimly, reaching for his yellow pad. “Just keep in mind this is against legal advice from me. For now, I’ve made a formal request for the evidence against you and should be getting that through official channels later this coming week. However, I also talked to a buddy over in the department and got an early and unofficial copy of the file.”

I leaned back. Impressive. Clark hadn’t been in town very long, but apparently he’d already made some good connections. “You’re a smart guy,” I mused.

“I know,” he said absently, rifling through papers.

Also confident. “Where did you go to school?” I asked. We’d worked kind of with and against each other for over a month, but we’d never taken time to grab coffee or anything. Of course, most of that time I had been learning the ropes, getting kidnapped, and then dealing with a stalker.

“University of Washington for undergrad and law school,” Clark said, pulling out a piece of paper. “You?”

“U of I and U of I,” I said. “How did you end up in Timber City?”

Clark looked up. “They had a job opening, and I have student loans.” His gaze moved to the lake that was now busy with boats and jet skis. “And I like it here. Good summer and great winter sports.” Then he looked at Tessa. “You talked to Danny Pucci more than once. When did he start calling?”

Tessa blushed a light pink, which looked crimson beneath her pale Irish skin. “A couple of months ago. He said he was sorry and had learned to deal with anger. I talked to him a few times, and then he asked me out again, and I said no.” She shrugged. “I was happy he’d been working on himself, but some things you don’t forget even if you forgive.”

I nudged her glass of water toward her. “Good for you.”

“Yeah. Great,” Clark said, perusing the paper. “The phone records show ten calls over the last couple of months, which isn’t too bad.”

I started. “You already have phone records? The police have those?”

Clark nodded, his gaze knowing. “Yeah. I noticed that as well.”

Tessa looked from me to Clark. “What does that mean?”

“It means that the police were already monitoring Danny Pucci,” I said quietly. “Do we have any idea why?”

Clark shook his head. “Nope. My source didn’t know, and I was hoping you’d try to get it out of Pierce. He seems to have a soft spot for you, and he’s the main detective on the murder.”

A soft spot? That was a soft spot for Pierce? “I’d hate to see his enemies,” I mumbled.

“True that,” Clark said, sliding the paper away. “Walk me through what happened again.”

Tessa did so, and it was the same exact timeline she’d given me. “I have no idea why Aiden was in my apartment,” she finished.

Clark chewed the inside of his lip. “Has Aiden been there before?” He didn’t look my way.

“No,” Tessa said, her voice clearly distressed. “Not at all.”

Clark nodded. “All right. Danny was arrested for battery against Kelsey Walker, who he’d moved in with about a week ago. According to the police report, they’ve been dating on and off for a while.”

I frowned. “Kelsey Walker? From Walker’s Funeral Home?” The Walker family had owned the place for several generations; I was pretty sure.

Clark twirled his pen. “Yeah. She’s the youngest daughter, and she works there. I hope to interview her this week if I can get ahold of her.” He scribbled a few notes on his legal pad. “Tessa? Did you know Danny was dating Kelsey or that he’d moved back home?”

Tessa shook her head. “I didn’t know he was dating anybody, and I’ve actually never met Kelsey. I’ve heard of the Walker family, though. They’re from here and not Silverville, and I remember playing against a couple of the Walker kids in volleyball and softball, but not Kelsey.”

“I think she’s the youngest,” I said, trying to run through my memory. “Maybe even a year or two younger than me.” My phone dinged, and I grasped it to read the face. Then I read the text again. “Oh crap.”

“What?” Tessa asked.

I looked up, my nerves tingling. “It’s a text from mom. She forgot to tell me that Uncle Sean is on his way over to give me the piano she bought from Mrs. Stangleton’s estate sale the other day. It’s an upright, and I guess mom had been trying to find one for me that fits