to me and extended a hand. “Sheriff Parker Raines, but you can call me Parker. I’ve been meaning to stop by and introduce myself, but time got away from me. I’m sorry I’m doing it now under less than stellar circumstances.”
Something about Parker’s demeanor eased a bit of the tension thrumming through me. “Brody James. Why don’t we head up to the house and talk there? I’ve got coffee.”
Parker nodded. “Never turn down a cup. Lead the way.”
Shay had to let go of my hand as we made our way up the path, but she stayed close, lending me her silent support. I could feel the crew’s eyes as we made our way past the studio site, and I gave Hunter a small shake of my head when he raised his brows in question.
“Looks like an impressive project,” Parker said.
“Art studio. Hunter and his team have done an incredible job.” I just didn’t know if I’d ever be able to use it after this.
“They do some of the best work on the islands, that’s for sure.”
I pulled open the door to the main house and ushered Shay and Parker inside. Shay made a beeline for the kitchen, busying herself with preparing the coffee. “Do you guys want anything besides coffee? I could make you an early lunch. Sandwiches or a salad—”
I gave Shay’s arm a squeeze. “I think coffee is fine.”
“Sure is,” Parker echoed.
“Do you want me to leave?” Shay asked.
Parker glanced in my direction. “It’s up to you.”
“Stay.”
With that single word, she slid into the breakfast nook, leaving a spot just big enough for me. Parker eased into the opposite side. It took a moment for me to force myself down. Because I knew the moment I did, the questions would start. I kept my gaze on Shay as I finally sat, as though she could lessen what was to come.
Parker cleared his throat. “I take it Shay filled you in on what happened on Anchor.”
“She did. We were just about to head up to the house to give you a call when she saw your boat.”
Parker took a sip of his coffee. “I remembered reading about the case back in New York. Followed the news coverage here and there. And when I got to the scene today, something scratched at the back of my mind. I didn’t put it all together until I ran a search.”
He paused for a moment before continuing. “There was a printout of a painting at the crime scene. When I did a reverse image search, your website popped up.”
My jaw worked back and forth before I said anything. Not that Parker had asked a question, but his silence told me that he wanted me to offer something. “There were never copies of my art at the other crime scenes. Have you talked to the detectives in New York? The FBI? He crossed state lines back east, so they were involved.”
“I’ve got a call in to the FBI and spoke briefly with a Detective Chen at the NYPD.”
I nodded. “Chen is good people. He saw me through this whole nightmare before.”
“Seems like it. He’s gathering copies of their files and faxing them to me. But they seem pretty certain they’ve got their guy.”
I traced my finger along the ridges and swirls of the table’s grain. “I thought they had, too. He confessed.”
Parker made a humming noise in the back of his throat. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone messed-up in the head confessed to something they didn’t do.”
“I guess that’s true enough.”
He looked me in the eye. “I have to ask where you were last night, Brody.”
I knew it was coming, but it stung nonetheless. I’d had to answer a million questions asked by the cops in New York until they were finally able to clear me. I understood the need for it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t piss me off.
“Seriously, Sheriff?” Shay barked. “Brody has been targeted. It’s been proven. Someone is twisting the thing he loves most in the world. And now you show up asking him where he was?”
I squeezed her knee. “It’s okay.” Something about Shay jumping to my defense made it just that: okay. I turned back to Parker. “I was here all night. I don’t have anyone to really corroborate that—”
“Yes, you do,” Shay piped in. “I’ve had the keys to the boat for the last week. So, unless he swam to shore, Brody’s been here.”