Then he called Timothy Beckett and introduced himself.
“This is about my father, isn’t it?” Timothy’s voice was sharp, almost angry.
“Yes. Do you know what happened?”
“My mom called last night and said someone killed him.”
“That’s correct. Where are you right now?” Matt asked.
“I’m still in Michigan. My last exam is scheduled for next week, but my professor agreed to let me take it later today. I’ll pack tonight and leave early tomorrow. Should be there by dinnertime.”
“Do you intend to go to the house?”
“No.” Timothy’s response was immediate. “Mom said he was killed there. I’ll stay with a friend.”
“Where were you yesterday evening?”
“I was taking an exam from four to six. I had to sign in with my ID. There’ll be a record, if you want confirmation.”
“I do. Thanks,” Matt said. “Were you aware of the difficulties in your parents’ marriage?”
Timothy hesitated, then said in a guarded tone, “You’d better ask my mom about that.”
“But you were aware they had problems.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Timothy replied.
“Were you close to your dad?” Matt thought about the number of pics of the boys with their mom and the single photograph of the twins with their dad.
“Dad was always working.” Timothy evaded the actual question and said in a final tone, “Look, I have to go.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Matt let him go. Timothy had an alibi, and Matt could follow up with an in-person interview when he’d returned.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
The line went dead.
Matt called Noah Beckett next. “I’m Matt Flynn, a criminal investigator with the Randolph County Sheriff’s Department.”
“I assume this is about my dad.” Noah’s voice sounded shaky. “My mom called last night.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Matt said. “Are you at school?”
Noah sighed. “I didn’t tell my mom when I talked to her, but I finished the term early. I’m in Grey’s Hollow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bree stared out the passenger window of her brother’s ancient Bronco. Several news crews clustered in the sheriff’s station parking lot. “Drive around the building and drop me at the back door.”
Adam followed her instructions, driving into the fenced rear lot. He pulled to the curb.
Bree slid out of the vehicle. “Thanks, Adam.”
“Let me know if you need a ride home.”
“I will, but I intend to drive my own unit home tonight,” Bree said. Then she closed the passenger door.
Adam waited until she had the back door open before he pulled away.
She entered the station, headed into her office, and settled at her desk. Despite her tough words, she felt like she’d been beaten with a stick. She also felt partially naked without the weapons she’d left with Matt the night before. But weapons and pain meds did not mix. She would not carry guns if she was incapacitated.
A knock sounded on her doorframe. She looked up to see Matt and was glad no one else was there to see the automatic smile she couldn’t suppress. “Come in.”
He set her duty belt and backup piece on her desk. “I thought you’d be missing these.”
“Definitely.” With her arm in a sling, Bree struggled to strap on the belt one-handed.
“Let me help.” Matt stood in front of her. He fastened the belt around her waist. “The parking lot is full of press.”
“I’m giving a statement this afternoon.” Bree adjusted the belt, then sat in her chair and lifted her foot onto the desk. Resigned to not being able to dress herself, she asked, “Would you help me?”
“Sure.” Matt tugged up the hem of her cargo pants and wrapped her second holster around her ankle. He adjusted her pant leg back into place over her black athletic shoe.
She swung her foot under the desk. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaned over her for a few seconds before settling into one of the two chairs that faced her desk. He smelled nice, like citrus and cedar.
She rolled her eyes at herself. The heavy ache weighting her arm told her the drugs had fully worn off, yet she was still punchy. Normally, she was all business in the office. But then, she hadn’t slept well. Maybe exhaustion and pain had weakened her normal barriers. Feeling extraordinarily vulnerable, she did what she always did: returned to the case. “How was the search of Paul Beckett’s residence?”
“We took the usual electronics and paperwork. A few interesting notes.” Matt ticked off the items on his fingers. “Mrs. Beckett is a serious tennis player, as are both of their sons. We found signs that suggest Paul had recent female companionship—someone with long dark hair. Paul owns a