with a swollen right eye and mascara-streaked cheeks tug nervously at a gold hoop pierced through her nose. An elderly man sat on the bench beside her. Without movement, he looked like a street statue, gripping the handle of a cane propped between his thin legs.
They’d been here when Josh arrived at the Coronado PD.
After he’d paced the lobby’s well-worn tiles for twenty minutes, Admiral Austen and some of the team guys filtered in. He had no answers because no one gave him any.
Josh looked up when he heard the click of high heels. Lumin strode toward them from a hallway that led into the bowels of the precinct, wearing a mask of concern. He didn’t have to decipher her expression for his bubble of hope to pop. Dixie wasn’t walking beside the attorney.
Last night when he’d returned to Dix’s place, Josh knew she’d been out because the BMW’s hood was warm to the touch. When she’d finally opened up about the rape, then fell asleep in his arms, he’d forgotten all about the car. Protecting her—holding her—eclipsed every thought.
A while ago, he’d told Dix when things got rough out in the theater, a memory had always given him strength and brought him home. She had assumed it was Gesem or some other woman. He’d never corrected her. He should have. A clear image of Dixie smiling at him, wearing her favorite cowboy hat, gave him a reason to smile. She’d always been his sweetest memory.
“Outside,” Lumin said quietly as she passed him and kept walking.
Josh, Ghost and the rest of the Frogs quickly followed Tinman’s wife out the glass doors and fifty feet away from the entrance where she stopped. Instead of peppering the woman with questions, he waited.
Lumin pasted her palms together and centered her attention on Josh. “Dixie has not been charged yet. PD is holding her for ninety-six hours. If we don’t find solid proof that points to Chandler’s murderer, it is highly likely she’ll be charged.”
The sonofabitch was actually dead. Someone had done Josh a favor. The rest of Lumin’s summary wasn’t good. “Based on what evidence?”
Lumin tucked a stray strand of platinum hair behind her ear. “All circumstantial. Last night, Dixie drove downtown to meet Chandler.”
Mace stood on Josh’s left. “Why in the fuck would she do that?”
Lumin raised a brow at her husband’s best friend, probably due to his use of colorful prose. “Dixie agreed to a face to face meeting if he’d release Gesem.”
Josh shook his head. So Kayla had been right.
“What happened?” he asked, not considering for even a second that Dixie could kill Chandler.
Lumin waited until two officers strode past, headed toward a patrol car parked in front of the building. “Dixie says he never showed.”
Admiral Austen crossed his arms over his bulky chest. “Because he was already dead.”
Tinman’s wife nodded. “I spoke to Detective Dean on my way out. He told me the coroner put Chandler’s death at between seven and eight p.m. Dixie said she arrived at Ardon Corporation’s office building around eight-thirty.”
“I left Dixie to head over to Marg’s around seven. I got back around ten p.m. because of traffic. It would only take Dix twenty minutes to get downtown from her place. When did she get the message to meet Kallis? Or did he call her?”
Lumin sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Ahem.”
All heads turned to see Det. Dean. The tight circle opened, and he stepped forward.
“Listen, I shouldn’t be talking to you, but…” The detective surveyed all of them. “I agree with Mrs. Bale. Things don’t add up. Circumstantial or not, the evidence points at Dixie. Her phone records show Chandler’s text arrived at eight p.m. If the coroner isn’t wrong, he was already dead.”
Well, then this shit show should be over. “Isn’t that enough?” Josh asked.
“Unfortunately not. At this point in the investigation, every rock gets turned over.”
This was bullshit. The only rock they turned over was assuming Dixie’s guilt. “She’s being set up to take the fall for this. If Chandler was dead, someone else sent the text.”
The detective glanced over his shoulder and back at his audience. “While you were here, police searched Dixie’s place. Her pistol’s missing. She told me she carried it in her purse. They found a weapons safe in her house, but it’s empty.”
“You think someone stole Dixie’s 9mm and shot Chandler?” Lumin asked.
He shrugged. “Either that, or they took it so a comparison can’t be made to exclude her from the investigation. A missing weapon is almost as bad as