Circle of Blood (Forensic Mystery)

have no choice. She had the decedent’s property. She’s got a motive and she’s been off her meds.”
    “Justin, no! ”
    “There’s an eyewitness who’s placed Hannah with the vic just moments before she was shot. And now I know she was with Esther after she died.”
    “But there was an explanation. She told you why—”
    Justin shook his head. “She’s also a flight risk. If I don’t take her in I could lose my job. Let me do this and then we’ll sort it all out.”
    To that, Cameryn had cried, “Of course you have a choice .” But Justin didn’t seem to hear.
    Now, as she walked down the polished wooden hallway, the heels of her boots reverberating in the empty hall, she rehearsed her strategy. Although she was angry with Justin, it was important not to let emotion show. Like it or not, she needed him. She took a breath and shook herself, trying to focus, trying to be strong. With her knuckle she rapped on the glass pane stenciled with a golden star and the words SHERIFF’S OFFICE in black letters.
    Justin opened the door, not all the way, just a few inches. He looked rumpled, tired. “Hey.”
    “Hey yourself.”
    “Our office doesn’t officially open for twenty minutes.”
    “Len opened the courthouse early and I followed him inside,” she said. “I told him I was meeting you. Were you here all night?”
    “I had to be,” he answered. “It’s against the law to leave a prisoner unattended. I semi-slept in the chair.”
    “Can I come in?”
    Justin sighed. “You can’t see her, Cammie. She’s in a holding cell. No visitors.”
    “That’s okay.” Cameryn wedged her foot between the door and the door frame. “I want to talk to you.”
    He studied her a moment. The stubble on his chin had grown, his hair was tousled, and his lids were hooded from lack of sleep. Reluctant, he opened the door and allowed her inside. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
    “I’m taking a day off.”
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he croaked. “You’re cutting school?”
    “Yeah. I am.”
    “You never cut school.”
    "Right.” Cameryn felt a pang of guilt. In all her years of education, she’d never once skipped school. But there was a first time for everything. Her mother needed her.
    “You’re already in trouble with the sheriff, Cammie. Guess you’re going all the way. Have a seat.” The room was so crowded with filing cabinets and plants and Sheriff Jacobs’s big wooden desk, there was room only for two folding chairs for visitors. To the left, beside a painted radiator, was Justin’s chair, half the size of Jacobs’s. Everything for Justin seemed miniaturized—stacks of papers towered on a surface barely wide enough for his computer. He grabbed one of the folding chairs and placed it across from his desk, pointing for Cameryn to sit.
    His own chair squeaked as he leaned forward. “So what’s up?”
    “You seem tense,” she began.
    “Well, you called me just about every name in the book last night. Maybe my ‘tenseness’”—he made quotation marks with his fingers—“has something to do with that.”
    “Yeah, well, I’m sorry. I was just upset.”
    “Obviously.” Justin picked up a pen and hit the black plastic cap onto a clear spot on his desk, flipped it, then hit the pen again. “How did your pop and your grandma handle the news?”
    “They said I should wait and see where your investigation leads before I panic. My dad’s really mad at me for withholding evidence. Really mad. But he said he understood why I did it. My mammaw went to church and said a rosary. She thinks I’m going to have a long stay in Purgatory if I don’t get my act together.”
    Justin put down his pen and knit his fingers together. He leaned forward and spoke softly. “We’re holding her for seventy-two hours and she’s back on her meds, which is a very good thing. The district attorney will review the facts of the case. He’ll make the decision on whether to file charges or not.”
    “Yeah, I know how it works.”
    “I had to take her in, Cammie. I wish you’d understand.”
    “I do,” she lied. Today she’d worn her hair in a ponytail and had on a blue Fort Lewis sweatshirt, along with her heavy winter parka. Unzipping her coat, she slipped it off and asked, choosing the words carefully, “But there are other leads, aren’t there? Like my theory about polygamy?”
    He pulled back again. The wheels screeched against the tile. “What about it?”
    “Are you going to research it or