Death on a Deadline

the cops in our town were too busy railroading innocent sixteen-year-old boys to be worried about a little speeding. As I got out of my car, I cast a glance at the overcast sky. It wasn’t our big storm season, but I felt one coming on. Maybe it was my mood.
    The sergeant at the front desk opened her mouth to speak to me, but I hurried past her and made a beeline for John’s office. The door stood partially open, and that was invitation enough for me.
    John looked up from his desk and his face reddened. “Jenna. What are you doing here?”
    “What’s wrong? Easier to pick on teenagers than full-grown adults? I never figured you for a coward.”
    He held up his hand. “Whoa. What are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about our esteemed mayor ,” I spat out the word. “We both know he’s the reason Zac was called in this morning.”
    John’s brows knitted together. “Now you’re confusing me. What does Byron have to do with this?”
    “You mean besides using you to cover up the fact that he killed his brother-in-law?”
    John stood. “That’s a serious accusation. I think you’d better stop and take a deep breath.”
    I marched over to the desk, so tall in my anger that I could almost believe I towered over him instead of vice versa. “Believe me, I’ve had plenty of time for deep breaths ever since Byron threatened this very thing yesterday at the health club.”
    “Threatened to have Zac brought in? Why would he do that?”
    “His reasons are clear. He killed Hank and wants me to stop trying to prove it. You’re the one I can’t figure out.” I slapped my hand on the desk and his Styrofoam cup of coffee sloshed.
    “Jenna—” He retrieved his coffee cup and moved it to the windowsill. Out of the crazy woman’s reach, obviously.
    “Sure we’ve disagreed a lot, but I thought you had integrity.” Tears stung my eyes. “I can’t believe you brought in an innocent teen just because I asked Byron a few questions he didn’t like.”
    “Jenna—” John walked around the desk and reached out his hand as if to stave off an attack.
    “How could you? I’m pretty sure Byron killed Hank, and here you are letting him tell you what to do.”
    “Stop it!” John yelled in my face. The vein in his neck bulged.
    I didn’t say a word. Even if he was a lowlife, if I caused him to have a stroke Denise would kill me.
    He followed his own advice and took a deep breath, then spoke softly. “Mayor Stanton didn’t kill anybody.”
    “I think there’s a good chance he did.” I lowered my own voice as if the entire Lake View Police hadn’t already heard our heated exchange.
    “Look, I give you my word, he had nothing to do with me calling Zac in. I know you’re upset and worried, but that’s no excuse to go throwing accusations around. He’s the mayor, for goodness’ sake.”
    “And that means he’s above the law?”
    “No and neither is your nephew. I had a reason for bringing Zac in, but it had nothing to do with the mayor.”
    “So I’m supposed to believe this whole thing is a funny coincidence?” I was practically foaming at the mouth now.
    “Calm down and listen to me. This. Has. Nothing. To. Do. With. Mayor. Stanton.” He said the words one at a time as if I was slow-witted.
    “Okay then, Mr. Big Shot, tell me why. Why would you put Carly and Zac through all this?”
    “Look, I know you’re never going to shut up and go away unless I tell you, so you’d better keep this to yourself.” He sank into his leather chair.
    “Tell me.” My heart pounded in my throat. I knew Zac was innocent, but I could see in John’s eyes that he wasn’t so sure.
    He nodded for me to sit across from his desk, and I did.
    “An eyewitness came forward. Someone who said they saw an old car, description matching Zac’s, pulling out of the parking lot at the park. We have no choice but to ask Zac if it was him and if he was in the park that morning.”
    “I’m sure he wasn’t. He said he was out driving around, remember?”
    John nodded. “I remember. Let’s hope you’re right.”
    “So you’re saying Byron Stanton didn’t call you? Could he have been this Johnny-come-lately ‘eyewitness’?”
    “Definitely not. Byron didn’t call me, and I personally interviewed the witness.” John leaned back and retrieved his coffee.
    “Who was it?”
    John took a sip from his cup and shook his head. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
    “But you think they’re telling the truth?”