Her Alibi. Carol Ericson
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“I found it in the spare tire well.”
“Why were you looking in there?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, her mouth tight as if she blamed him for the presence of the knife.
The knots in his gut tightened. He wanted to trust Savannah, believe her crazy story. God, he loved this woman...once.
“The corner of the cover wasn’t lying flat, so I lifted it. The bag looked out of place. What’s it doing there, Savannah? Is it the murder weapon?”
“How do I know?” She lifted her shoulders to her ears and turned to face him. “I’m telling you, Connor, I blacked out when I got to Niles’s place.”
“The point being, you could’ve got into an argument with him, continued your argument from the bar even and...”
“Stabbed him multiple times in the back?” She shook her head back and forth.
“Maybe it was self-defense.” He tied the handles of the bag together and placed it on the floor by the front door—not that he could leave it there. “Maybe the fight got physical, and he attacked you with a knife. You got it away from him and struck back.”
“That’s insane, Connor. I didn’t have any...” She stopped and touched the back of her head with her fingertips.
“Any what? What’s wrong?”
“I have a bump on my head. I was going to say I didn’t have any injuries, but I have this lump on the back of my skull and these cuts on my hand.”
His feet had been rooted to the floor ever since he’d entered with the knife and a terrible dread in his gut. Now a new urgency propelled him forward.
He took Savannah by the shoulders. “Turn around.”
She presented her back to him, and a silky fall of dark hair rippled across her shoulders.
He nestled his fingers in the strands of her hair and slid them up to her scalp.
She winced and sucked in a sharp breath.
“Here?” He traced a large, hard knot on Savannah’s head.
“Ouch. That’s the spot.”
“You didn’t have that before you woke up this morning?”
“No. I don’t think the skin is broken, and I didn’t notice any blood in my hair.”
“He could’ve pushed you, and you fell back against something.”
“Maybe that’s why I blacked out. Oh, Connor.” Dipping her head, she pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know what happened last night.”
His hands dropped to her shoulders again and he massaged his thumbs between her shoulder blades. “We’re going to figure it out, Savannah.”
“And what if we figure out I’m responsible for Niles’s death?”
He turned her around to face him and kissed her forehead. “We’ll deal with it.”
“And what about that?” She pointed a slightly trembling finger at the bag by the door.
“We should get it tested for blood and fingerprints.”
She jerked back from him. “Are you crazy?”
“I thought you wanted to find out who killed Niles.” He folded his arms and dug his fingers into his biceps to keep from touching Savannah again. That never seemed to end well for him.
“Yes, but how are we going to ID blood and prints from the knife without taking it to the police?” She sliced a hand through the air. “I’m not doing that, Connor.”
“I think I can work around that.”
“Connections?”
“Maybe a few.” His father had been police chief in this town for over twenty years, before the sheriff’s department took over and swallowed up the San Juan Beach PD. “In the meantime...”
“In the meantime, get rid of it.”
“I’ll find a place.” He aimed his foot at the suitcase he’d dragged in with the knife. “Why don’t you unpack and get ready for our first appearance?”
“Our first appearance where?” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger.
“In public. If you showed up on my doorstep last night, we’d be out and about by now...or at least we should be to prove you’re here.”
“Makes sense.” She tossed her wound-up hair over her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Like you pointed out earlier, I owe you for what you and your mom did for my dad. You never let me repay you for that.”
“Because even though Mom and I lied...and said Chief Wells killed my stepfather in self-defense, it still led to your dad’s death.”
Connor gritted his teeth. “Self-defense or not, it would’ve ended for Dad that way. Your stepfather’s associates were not going to let anyone get away with killing Manny Edmonds without payback.”
“My mom was always grateful for...what your father did.”
“My dad would’ve done anything for your mom.” Apparently it ran in the Wellses’ blood to do anything for the Martell women. Dad’s devotion to Savannah’s mother had broken up his marriage to Mom and ended his life. And Connor’s own devotion to Savannah had strained his relationship with his mother. How would this latest association end?
“Brunch?”
“What?” Connor ran a hand down the side of his face.
“I’m going to change while you get rid of that knife. Are we having brunch or lunch out to show my presence in San Juan Beach?”
Savannah sure seemed anxious to dispose of what was probably the murder weapon. “I’m not going to dump it.”
“Okay, whatever.” She strode past him and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, yanking it up. “I don’t want to know what you do with it.”
“Shouldn’t we take a look on TV or the computer to see if Niles’s body has been found yet?”
She held up one hand in front of her face. “I don’t want to know that, either. Better to feign surprise when the cops come calling.”
With a toss of her head, she tipped back her bag and dragged it across the floor to the hallway.
As she veered toward the guest room on the right, he called out, “Master suite. We’re back together, remember?”
Without a word or backward glance, she changed course and wheeled her bag into his bedroom.
He bent over and snatched up the plastic grocery bag by one handle. As it dangled from his fingertips, he stared at the spot where Savannah had disappeared into his bedroom.
He’d wanted Savannah back in his life for so long and now she was here in the flesh—needing him, sharing his bedroom, willing to engage in a pretend romance with him.
Turning, he grabbed the front door handle. How could this possibly go wrong?
* * *
SAVANNAH SMOOTHED HER hands across the cotton skirt that hit her midthigh. How many more ways could she feel guilty for dragging Connor into her mess?
Mom had dragged Connor’s father into her messes, and here she was, carrying on the famous Martell tradition. She and Mom had lied about the night her stepfather was shot and killed, all right, but it wasn’t for the benefit of Chief Wells.
Savannah could never tell Connor the truth about that night; he would never look at her the same way again. He’d blame her for his father’s death. And because she had to keep this secret from him, they