Chapter 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Cam sat in the small interview room, a cup of coffee growing cold in front of him. The room was sterile and dimly lit, a perfect setting for the conversation he was about to have. Across from him, Lance Barton, a local realtor, shifted uneasily in his chair. His hands were clasped tightly together on the table, and his eyes darted around the room, avoiding Cam's steady gaze.

"Thanks for coming in, Lance," Cam began, his voice measured and calm. "I just have a few questions for you."

Lance nodded. "Of course, Lieutenant. Anything to help."

"Good," Cam said, leaning back slightly. "Do you know a woman named Kinley Layne?"

Lance's steady gaze held Cam's. "Yes, I know Kinley. She's a client of mine."

Cam nodded. "Where did you meet her?"

"At a coffee shop," Lance replied. "We ran into each other there a few times. I also saw her at the hardware store, and I'm the realtor who listed her home for sale."

Cam somehow managed to keep his expression neutral despite the turmoil swirling in his gut. "That's quite a few places to run into someone."

Lance shrugged one shoulder. "Brookhaven's a small town, Lieutenant. It's not unusual to see the same people in different places."

Cam leaned forward. "Is that so? Did you also know that Kinley has been having some trouble lately?"

Lance's brow furrowed. "I mean… I saw the stitches and all, but I didn't want to ask, you know? She seemed pretty self-conscious about it."

"Someone tried to run her down with a car," Cam said. "And she was almost mugged just a few nights ago."

Lance's eyes widened in shock. "I had no idea. That's terrible."

Cam watched him closely, looking for any sign of deception. "You sure about that? It seems a bit coincidental that you've been around her so much, and now she's in danger."

Lance's face turned red with frustration. "I'm a realtor, Lieutenant. I meet a lot of people, and I run into them around town. Yes, I've seen Kinley at those places, but that doesn't mean I have anything to do with her being in danger."

Cam's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying it's all just a coincidence?"

"Yes," Lance said firmly. "I've got nothing to hide. I've done my job and nothing more."

Cam leaned back, silent for a moment, letting the tension build. "All right, Lance. Let's talk about your whereabouts on the days Kinley had her accidents. Can you account for your time?"

Lance took a deep breath, calming himself. "I can. I was showing houses, meeting clients. I also have regular office hours. I keep a detailed schedule."

"Can anyone verify that?" Cam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Lance replied. "My assistant and several clients can vouch for me. I can give you their contact information."

Cam studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "All right, give me the list."

Lance scribbled down the names and numbers on a piece of paper and handed it to Cam, who took it without breaking eye contact.

"Thanks, Lance. We'll be checking your alibi." Cam leaned forward. "One last thing—Would you be willing to submit your fingerprints for the investigation?"

Lance looked surprised but nodded. "Sure. I have nothing to hide."

Sawyer produced a fingerprinting kit and methodically took Lance's prints. "This will only take a moment," Sawyer said before leaving the room to run the prints through the system.

Cam stayed seated, his gaze fixed on Lance. "So, Lance, let's talk more about Kinley. Have you ever been to her house?"

Lance frowned. "Of course. She's a client of mine; I was there to take photos for the listing."

"That's interesting, because Kinley's also experienced trouble at her house. Someone's broken in twice now."

Lance's jaw tightened. "I'm a realtor, for God's sake, not a criminal. I have no reason to break into someone's house."

Cam leaned back, his eyes never leaving Lance's face. "Understand, we have to look at everything. If there's something you're not telling us, now's the time to come clean."

Lance drew in a breath. "I understand that, but I've told you everything. There's nothing more to say."

The door opened, and Sawyer walked back in, his expression grim. He handed Cam a piece of paper. "We got a match," Sawyer said, his voice low.

Cam scanned the report quickly before looking up at Lance. "Care to explain why your fingerprints were found at a crime scene?"

Lance's face drained of color. "What crime scene?"

"A few days ago, Corey Hayes, was found murdered in a building downtown," Sawyer said, his eyes narrowing. "Your fingerprints match a partial pulled from a keychain found at a crime scene."

Lance shook his head vehemently. "No, that's impossible. I had nothing to do with that."

"A keychain belonging to Kinley Layne was found near the victim—and your prints were on it." Cam's voice was cold. "How do you explain that?"

Lance's eyes darted around the room, his mind racing. "I... I don't know. I've never even heard of that guy."

"Do you recognize this?" Sawyer slid a photo of the keychain across the table, and Lance shook his head emphatically.

"I've never seen that."

"Yet your prints are on it?" Sawyer scoffed. "That's a stretch, don't you think?"

"It's the truth," Lance insisted, his voice rising in desperation. "I swear—I would never hurt Kinley, and I certainly wouldn't murder someone."

Cam and Sawyer exchanged a look. He sounded awfully sincere, and he hadn't displayed an ounce of recognition when he saw the keychain.

"All right, Lance," Cam said slowly. "We'll need to take you into custody until we can sort this out."

Lance's face contorted with panic. "No! You can't do this. I didn't kill anyone!"

"We'll see about that," Sawyer said, moving to stand beside Lance. "For now, we'll have to hold you."

As they escorted Lance out of the room, Cam couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. Lance's reaction seemed genuine, but the evidence was damning.

The connections between Lance, Kinley, and the recent troubles in Brookhaven were too strong to ignore. They needed to dig deeper, and fast. He couldn't afford to let anything slip through the cracks—not when lives were at stake.