Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

ONE WEEK LATER

I was sitting in my office at the Case Closed Detective Agency, talking to Simone and Hunter, my two partners in crime, about our holiday plans. Christmas was less than a week away, and both women were headed out of town to visit family and friends in their hometowns. As we finished our conversation, the office door blew open and a woman walked in, clutching a crumpled tissue in her hand. She looked to be around sixty, and her hair was styled in a dark, blunt bob. She was dressed like she was expecting a blizzard, but it was the dead of winter, so I didn’t blame her.

She blotted her eyes with the tissue and glanced in our direction.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“I … I hope so.”

I waved her over. “Why don’t you come into my office, and we can talk?”

She nodded and walked over.

Simone looked at me and said, “Do you want us to stay, or …?”

“Why don’t you give us a few minutes?”

“You bet,” Simone said.

They stood, and Hunter followed Simone out, closing the door behind her.

The woman took a seat, and I said, “What can I do for you?”

“I need …” She lifted a finger and began digging around in her purse. “Just a moment, okay? I’m sorry.”

Taking a guess, I grabbed a box of tissues and pushed it in her direction. “No need to apologize. Take all the time you need.”

For the next couple of minutes, she sniffled and snorted into a half a dozen tissues, and I waited. Every time she began to speak, she’d get a few words out, but she hadn’t managed an entire sentence yet. Whatever was on her mind, it carried a heavy weight.

The woman removed a few more tissues from the box and placed them in her lap. “Believe it or not, I don’t consider myself an emotional person. I don’t get like this often.”

“I’m the same way. It takes a lot for me to get worked up about something, but when I do, everything I’ve been suppressing spills right out.”

She nodded and pressed a hand to her chest, closing her eyes as she worked to steady her breath. When her eyes reopened, she seemed a lot calmer.

“My name is Delilah Cooperson,” she said. “I’m not sure if you’ve been paying attention to the news, but my daughter-in-law was Claire Cooperson.”

“I have some connections at the county police department. What happened to Claire was awful.”

“I’m guessing you may have heard my son has been arrested.”

“I have, and I’m sorry.”

“The thing is, he didn’t do it, you see. Not my Owen. He’s too gentle a soul to even consider such a thing. And now that they’ve arrested him, they won’t listen to a word he says, or a word I say, for that matter.”

“I take it you’ve spoken to the police?”

“More than once. I’ve talked to anyone willing to listen. I’m getting nowhere. I didn’t know who to go to or what to do, and then I met the kindest woman at the grocery store. She told me about you and your detective agency, and I thought … well, it’s worth a shot. I’ll do anything to save my son from these false allegations.”

Any mother would.

It didn’t mean he was innocent.

The case intrigued me, but as far as Owen’s guilt or innocence, I didn’t know enough about why he’d been accused to weigh in.

“What has your son told you about the night of the murder?” I asked.

Delilah leaned back, crossing her arms. “He told me he didn’t do it, and that’s enough for me.”

It may have been enough for her, but not for me.

“Do you know any specifics about what happened the night of the murder?” I asked.

“Owen’s told me a few things.”

For a woman desperate to save her son, she was a little light on the details, offering me blanket statements that led nowhere.

I crossed my arms and tried again.

“Where was Owen during the time the murder took place?” I asked.

“He was running late from work. He said he tried to call Claire, but she didn’t answer. It was a windy night, from what I understand, and the cell service was shoddy, going in and out. Even so, the police confirmed a call was made about thirty minutes before he arrived home.”

“How far away is Owen’s work?”

Delilah gave the question some thought. “Mmm, less than ten minutes, I guess. I understand your need to ask these questions, but my son didn’t kill her.”

“He was arrested, which means the police believe he did.”

“It seems like it’s always the husband who gets blamed when the wife gets murdered, no matter what evidence the police have to the contrary.”

Not always.

And when they were, it was for good reason.

In domestic murder cases, 76 percent of female victims were killed by someone they knew, and 34 percent by their intimate partner.

Delilah was so fixated on her son’s innocence, she was biased, which was understandable. But questioning her wasn’t getting me anywhere. I needed a different approach.

“Has Owen hired a lawyer?” I asked.

“Yes, he’s represented by Jasper Hamilton. Do you know him?”

I nodded. “He’s good. He has an impressive track record for winning his cases.”

“ Good doesn’t mean he’ll prove Owen’s innocence, no matter how many cases he’s won. He’s had losses too, which means I can’t count on him alone to come through for us. If this does go to trial, there’s a chance it won’t go in Owen’s favor. It’s the reason why I came to see you.”

I was interested in taking the case … if her son was innocent.

“What do you say?” Delilah asked. “Will you do it?”

I sat a moment, wrestling with my feelings. Given the police had made an arrest, the case was a bit different from many of the others I’d taken.

“I’ll take the case on a trial basis,” I said.

“A trial basis? What do you mean?”

“I need to speak with your son, look over the evidence, and get more details about what happened to Claire. If I believe your son is telling the truth, I’ll continue investigating, and I’ll promise you this—if he’s innocent, I’ll prove it.”

“And if you decide he’s lying?”

“You said yourself that he’s innocent, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

She offered me a slight smile, and I hoped I’d just lightened the weight she’d been carrying, even if for a moment. For me, the weight was just beginning, and I wasn’t looking forward to the tough conversation I was about to have with Chief Foley.