turned her gaze to Sam. The pain in her heart was reflected in his eyes. He was hurting too. Emma rubbed her good hand across her face. “Give me a minute to pull it together, and then let’s go talk to Mary Jo’s parents.”
He reached to the back floorboard and pulled out a bottle of water and uncapped it. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.
She took a long draw. The water wet her dry mouth but almost made her throw up. It was one thing to think her brother might be dead and another to know it for a fact. “Who could have killed him?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to get justice for him.”
“Do you think it’s the same person who killed Mary Jo?”
Sam didn’t answer right away. “I think she’s the key,” he said. “I haven’t told you, but I talked to the owner of the Hideaway last night. Charlie Shaw.”
She bolted upright. “What did he say? Did Mary Jo leave with Ryan?”
Emma listened as Sam filled her in on what he’d learned from Shaw. “Let me get this straight. Mary Jo came with one person and left with Ryan and Trey and Gordy?”
“Yes.”
She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around the information. “This doesn’t make sense. Why weren’t Trey and Gordy in Sheriff Carter’s report?”
“I have a theory.” He rubbed the steering wheel.
“Are you going to tell me what it is or do I have to drag it out of you?”
“I can’t let you get involved in this any deeper, now that it’s definitely a murder investigation,” he said.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Take me home.”
He turned and pinned her with a frown. “What are you going to do?”
“What I do doesn’t concern you.” Emma calculated the time it would take to get an Uber to take her to Mount Locust for her truck. Two hours at the most and then she would drive to the Selbys without Sam.
“I’m not going anywhere until you promise you’ll let me handle this.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not promising you anything. You might be able to lock me out of the official case, but you can’t stop me from asking questions.”
“Come on—”
“Don’t come on me. Ryan was my brother, and I intend to find out who killed him. I’d rather do it with your help, but either way, I will get some answers.”
“And get yourself hurt, or killed,” he said.
“That’s why I’d rather work with you. I figure you’ll try to keep me safe.” She pointed her finger at him. “But if you shut me out, I’ll find a way around you.”
Sam gripped the steering wheel and stared out the windshield, his jaw clenched and the muscle in his cheek working. Gradually his jaw relaxed and the muscle calmed. “If I let you tag along this time,” he said, turning to face her, “will you then leave the solving of this case to Nate and me?”
She took a shaky breath. She’d won the battle, but not the war. “I promise I won’t do anything without running it by you. Now, let’s go talk to the Selbys.”
47
Emma and Ryker were going to see Mary Jo’s father. He checked his watch. The conversation he’d listened to took place twenty minutes ago. They were probably already at Selby’s house. He cursed the situation that kept him from tuning in to their live conversation. But his job required certain obligations, and until he went off the grid, he had to fulfill them.
Ryker wouldn’t learn much at the Selbys’, and he tried to let that information calm him. The mother had died, and Mary Jo had always complained that the old man never paid any attention to her.
The sister. What if they talked to her?
When he and Mary Jo dated, she lived with the Wyatt woman, and he’d met her briefly when he arrived early for a date with a bouquet of daisies in his hand. What if the sister remembered him . . . or mentioned the flowers?
His name had not come up in the first investigation, and it couldn’t come up now. Maybe he needed to pay another visit to the nursing home. Make sure he had no worries there. In his last visit, he could see that the dementia had advanced significantly, and if the new sheriff, or even Ryker, interviewed him, they would quickly discount anything he might say.