Conflicting Evidence. Lena Diaz
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glanced at Colin, then back at Landry. “Are you saying that you know that Brian is the one who shot Officer Jennings? Not one of the others?”
“No. He’s not.” Colin sat forward in his chair, his gaze riveted on the police chief. “Dash cam video from the officer’s patrol car shows him getting shot and the four prisoners running from the scene. Which man shot him is still to be determined.”
The chief sighed. “Marshal McKenzie, you’re here as a courtesy due to your close ties to the original arson case, and because you located Mr. Sterling earlier today in an unfortunately failed attempt to apprehend him. I’d appreciate you not interfering in my questioning of Miss Sterling.”
“Stick to what’s relevant and I won’t interfere.”
The chief smiled, seeming to shrug off Colin’s admonition. Peyton figured the two must have a solid friendship, or at least mutual respect, for Landry not to be upset.
“I’m okay moving on to the question of an alibi. Miss Sterling, where were you yesterday morning between the hours of ten and eleven?”
“Alibi? For what?”
“We need to know who might have, and might still be, helping the four convicts who escaped during transport from the Federal Correctional Institution in Memphis yesterday morning. So, again, can you please account for your whereabouts?”
“You seriously think I would have helped them?”
“Peyton.” Colin spoke softly beside her. “Just answer the question.”
“No,” she said. “No, I wasn’t six hours away in Memphis while simultaneously at my shop here in Gatlinburg.”
“Your shop? I believe you mentioned a café earlier?” Landry asked.
“Yes. I own a café and gift shop combination called Peyton’s Place. It’s in The Village, off Parkway. It’s new, not far from The Hofbrauhaus restaurant.”
“Can someone there vouch for where you were yesterday?”
“Joan—she works for me—she can tell you I was there all day, as I am most days. But she’s not there right now. The shop closed at six. It will open again in the morning, at nine.”
“I’m sure you understand the urgency of verifying your alibi as quickly as possible. Waiting until morning isn’t an option. Joan’s last name? Her address?”
“Fairmont, Joan Fairmont. I should call her first and let her know that—”
“If you do, that will destroy the credibility of her as an alibi witness. One of my men will head over there now and speak to her. The address?”
She hesitated. “I don’t want them frightened by a policeman knocking on their door.”
“Them?”
“I have two employees. Joan is full-time, Melissa’s part-time. They’re roommates.”
He motioned to one of the detectives who then wrote something down on the legal pad in front of him. Apparently he was making notes about her alibi.
“And why would they be frightened if a detective knocks on their door? Do they have something to hide?”
Her face heated. “Of course not. But they...they both have criminal records.” She could practically feel Colin’s gaze burning into her. “Nothing dangerous or anything. They were both homeless and became friends while trying to survive on the streets. They were hungry and got caught shoplifting at a grocery store. Both did a few months in the local jail.”
“Are there any other criminals working at your shop that we need to know about?”
She had to count to ten before she could speak without yelling. “I don’t consider Joan and Melissa to be criminals. Being poor and hungry are hardly crimes. They made restitution for what little food they took when they were practically starving. And they’re working hard to turn their lives around.”
“No doubt. My apologies if I seemed insensitive.”
His sincere tone went a long way toward defusing her anger. She gave him a crisp nod, accepting his apology.
“Any other employees?”
She hesitated.
“Miss Sterling?”
She glanced at Colin, but his stormy eyes gave her no indication of what he was thinking. “Technically, no. But Mr. Hardy comes by to perform odd jobs for food. He... I believe he may have had some scrapes with the law as well.”
Colin focused his gaze on a spot on the far wall.
“Do you have Mr. Hardy’s address so we can speak to him too?” Landry asked.
“I don’t think he has an address. I’ve offered to let him sleep in our storage room. But he always declines, says something about the stars being his roof.”
“How often does he come around?”
“Pretty much every day. But there’s no need to bother him. Joan will corroborate what I told you about being at the shop.” She rattled off Joan and Melissa’s address at the halfway house where they lived. “Please be polite and nonjudgmental when you speak to them. They’ve had a hard time of it and have been wonderful friends and workers.”
“I’m sure we can figure out how to ask them a few questions without traumatizing or insulting them.”
Since she was feeling a bit traumatized herself, she had little faith in his statement. She wrapped her arms around her middle. How much more of this interrogation was she going to have to endure?
The detective who’d been taking notes about Joan and Melissa picked up his legal pad and left the room.
“Last question, Miss Sterling.”
Thank God.
“You said you haven’t seen your brother in three months, prior to him showing up in your home yesterday. Do you have any ideas about where he might hide given that we’ve got roadblocks and checkpoints all throughout the county?”
She shook her head. “No. I honestly don’t. It’s not like he has any friends left around here. Our house is the only place I’d expect him to go.”
“If you think of something, you’ll let me know?”
“Of course.” Would she? She had no idea. If Brian had indeed killed a police officer, she’d be the first one to turn him in. But he’d been falsely convicted of one crime already. Trusting the police and the judicial system not to pin something else on him wasn’t likely to happen. And she really hadn’t had time to consider where he might hide. Where would he go if he was hunkering down, trying to keep someone from finding him?
The chief motioned to one of the detectives a few seats down, who then got up and handed him the tablet he’d been using during the meeting. Landry studied it a few moments, then turned it around and slid it across the table to Peyton. “Officer Redding typed up your statement, everything you said during our chat.”
Chat? If this was a chat, she couldn’t imagine how awful a real interrogation would have been.
He tapped the screen, scrolling to the top of the form. “Read through that. If you agree that it’s accurate, sign at the bottom. If anything needs correction, have Marshal McKenzie get Detective Redding back in here. Make yourself comfortable while we confirm your alibi. You don’t have your phone do you? I don’t want you calling your employees.”
She automatically felt her jeans pockets. “No. Actually, I don’t. I think it’s in my purse. But I’m not even sure where I left my purse.” A feeling of panic settled in her stomach as she tried to remember where it might be. Her credit cards and pretty much her entire life was in there.
“It’s locked in my desk,”