He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

have the experience that Logan and Pierce have, so I don’t know that my opinion makes any difference.”
    “Drop the bullshit, detective,” the mayor said. “Do we have the right man or not?”
    Logan watched the expressions crossing Riley’s face and knew before he spoke that they were in trouble. Riley honestly believed Branson was guilty, but he didn’t know politics, didn’t realize the mayor was looking for the slightest excuse to divert attention from his office. If that meant branding an innocent man a murderer in the eyes of the press, Logan knew the mayor wouldn’t hesitate. Not because he was a bad person. He was just weak, too weak to withstand the daily calls from concerned parents and the kind of pressure he was under.
    Especially with an election coming up.
    “Well? Guilty or not?” the mayor demanded, his face turning a florid color as he waited impatiently for Riley to respond.
    “I think we’ve got the right man, sir,” Riley said. He lowered his eyes to the table as if the wood grain pattern was suddenly fascinating.
    The mayor clapped his hands together, a smug smile on his face. “I’ll set up a press conference immediately. Shouldn’t be hard to do since the bastards are camped out on my doorstep every freaking day.” He glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes? Is that enough time for you three to join me on the front steps?”
    Logan shoved away from the wall. “Riley and Pierce can make up their own minds on this, but I won’t be there. I’m not going to mark a man a murderer without proof.”
    The mayor sputtered, his eyes widening as Logan headed toward the door. “How am I supposed to announce we have a suspect without you there? You’re the chief of police, for God’s sake. You have to be there.”
    “No, I don’t. If you’re going to call a press conference, you’re doing it without me.”
    Logan left the room and headed for his office. He understood the mayor’s position. All of the evidence they had, what little there was, did point to Branson. But no matter how many times he tried to picture him as the killer, he couldn’t see it.
    After grabbing his jacket and some files from his desk, Logan turned to leave. His cell phone buzzed, so he stopped and took a look at the caller ID. When he saw it was from his sister, Madison, he sighed and dropped the files onto his desk and plopped down in his chair.
    His baby sister had lost her husband in a tragic accident in New York a year ago. Ever since, she’d been traveling around the world, running from her pain. One day she would realize she had to face her problems to put them behind her, but in the meantime she would call him or their mother every few months and announce she was still alive.
    He flipped open his cell phone. “Hey, trouble. Where are you this time? Rome? London?”
    Thirty minutes later he hung up the phone with a rueful grin. Leave it to Madison to trick him into revealing more than he’d meant to about Amanda. He’d purposely not told her anything about the serial killer or the case because he didn’t want to worry her, but he’d admitted he had Amanda in protective custody.
    From that statement his sister had leaped to the conclusion he and Amanda were a couple. She wanted to come to Shadow Falls to meet her but he was adamant that she not, assuring her that he and Amanda were not a couple and that he was working an important case and couldn’t afford any distractions right now.
    His sister was astute. His protestations about his feelings for Amanda not being serious didn’t fool her. Thankfully she was three states away, vacationing in Louisiana. He was safe from her prying and her avowed role as matchmaker in his life.
    After the call with his sister, he hurried out of his office and down the elevator, but paused as he opened the front door of the building. The mayor was standing behind a podium set up on the landing at the top of the steps. Flanking his sides were Riley and Pierce.
    Logan exited to his left, taking care to stay close to the building and avoid drawing anyone’s attention as he hurried toward the parking lot.
    Riley looked miserable. He was sweating profusely and kept shoving his hair out of his eyes. Pierce looked bored, resigned.
    As the mayor rapped a gavel on the podium to signal the start of the press conference, Logan hurried down the last steps.
    His car was parked in the slot marked “Chief of Police.” A man in an oil-stained, tan jumpsuit leaned against the