Murder Deja Vu

pause on the line seemed interminable before Jeraldine asked, “How involved are you with Reece?”
    Dana didn’t hesitate. “Very.”
    “Okay, then. That tells me something. First, Reece has stepped back into the world of the living. I gotta tell you. I didn’t think it would happen, so you must be something special. Next, do you know if he has an alibi?”
    “No. I mean, I don’t know, because I don’t know exactly when the murder happened. The police dragged him out of my house with no warning. He left here last night after eight, so I doubt he does, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know where he went after.”
    “So you two were together before that?”
    “Yes.”
    “You need to find out the facts so you can fill me in when I arrive. Won’t be before morning. In the meantime, I’ll have my partner see what he can find out. If there’s no evidence, and the cops are holding Reece’s history against him, that’s not a case, it’s fucking harassment.”
    “Please get down here.”
    “Where’s the closest airport?”
    “Asheville.”
    “I’m bringing my investigator. He’s been looking into the first murder on the side. But I’ll tell you one thing, Reece will not be railroaded this time. Can you meet us?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’ll call you back when I know our arrival time.”
    “Thank you.”
    Dana disconnected and called Harris, hoping she’d find him sober. “You heard?”
    “I heard. Trouble follows that man, doesn’t it?” His voice sounded steady.
    “He didn’t do it, Harris.”
    “You sure? It’s the same M.O. Woman’s head half off, just like the case in Boston.”
    Dana’s stomach took an ugly turn. How could this be happening? “I know it looks bad, but he couldn’t kill anyone. I know him.”
    “Awfully fast, isn’t it, Dana? How well can you know a man in a few weeks?”
    “Well enough to know he couldn’t have done this.”
    “What do you want me to do? I’m a newspaperman. This is a big story. I have to cover it the way I see fit.”
    “Don’t try him in the paper. Find out what they have against him before you write anything. I’ve never asked you for anything in all the years we’ve known each other. I’m asking you now.”
    “How can you say that? You blackmailed me into giving you Daughtry’s address. Seems like I should have stuck to my guns and said no.”
    “That was different. Will they let me see him?”
    “He said he wouldn’t talk to anyone until his lawyer arrived. Those were his words, not the sheriff’s.” Harris hesitated. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for this guy. There are too many unanswered questions. He could be a murderer.”
    “Harris, please.”
    A longer hesitation. “Okay, but it seems like you’re jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Minette to Daughtry , and I’m not sure which one is worse. But I’ll see what they have. I was going to anyway. That’s what good reporters do. I just wanted to hear you beg.”
    “Bastard.”
    * * * * *
    D ana had heard people claim they hadn’t slept a wink, but supposedly that wasn’t true. It was for her. She watched the clock tick away, hour after hour, minute after minute. She pictured Reece slumped in the county jail cell, and anger built inside like steam in a pressure cooker until she couldn’t breathe. At five, she abandoned any idea of sleep, showered, dressed, and waited for the time to leave to meet Jeraldine De Bolt at nine in Asheville.
    She drank her coffee in her great room, studying the unfinished fireplace wall. Reece had bordered the opening with flat rectangular stones and built around them, fitting the rocks into one another seamlessly. It reminded her of the different puzzle-like shapes she drew as a child. For her, the doodles had been mindless. Reece’s composition was art.
    When she felt smothered in her own house, she went outside. The sun had already made its appearance over the mountain, bathing the valley in golden light. Birds sang their morning music, a warm breeze rustled the trees. How could life go on the same, look exactly like it did the day before, when her whole world was coming apart?

Chapter Eight
Locked Up

    R eece lay on the hard slab that passed for a bed in the Regal Falls jail. If he had closed his eyes at all, it was because they burned from keeping them open, not because he succumbed to sleep. This couldn’t be happening again. He swallowed his rage because letting it out would only hurt his case.
    What case, and what