She licked her lips. Cut her gaze away from Alex. Looked at Trace. Then back to the cop.
A sign she’s lying.
“I was taking a break between my classes. I-I wanted some air so I went for a walk,” Skye said.
“Into an alley?” The detective was obviously doubting her answer. He knows that she’s lying, too.
“I was looking at the art in the window.” She pointed to the shop on the corner. “Then I—I thought I heard someone calling for help in the alley, so I went-”
“Men who’ve had their throats slit don’t usually call for help,” Alex pointed out, voice flat.
She jerked, but her gaze kept meeting the cop’s. “Then I guess I imagined the voice.”
“I guess you did,” Alex muttered.
No way. Screw this. Trace stepped forward. He caught Skye’s hand. Threaded his fingers through hers. Together, they faced the cop.
“A slit throat. A knife wound directly to the heart. This sure does seem familiar.” Alex’s brows furrowed. “Is it seeming familiar to you, too, Weston?”
Sharpe’s murder. “Yeah, it’s familiar.” So why bullshit when they could cut right to the chase? “Two similar kills in the same city. Looks like you’ve got someone hunting here, Detective.”
“Yes, I do.”
Trace shifted his gaze to Skye. “But it’s not her, and you know it.”
“You’re so sure?”
Yes, he was. “Wounds like you’re describing…I know what they can do.” Too well. “When Parker’s throat was cut, there would have been spray. The blood would have gone straight toward the attacker. Gotten on the skin. The clothes.” He tightened his hold on Skye. “She doesn’t have a drop of blood on her.”
“She did…Skye had a few drops on her fingers.”
“Because I tried to help him!” Skye said. “I told you that already!”
“You knew he was dead from the first glance, Skye.” Alex fired back at her. “Doesn’t make sense to save the dead.”
“It does if you’re desperate.”
Alex slapped his hand against the top of patrol car. “You hated the man. You think I don’t know that? After what he did? Look, when I found out, I wanted to beat his ass, too. But you know what you don’t do? You don’t try to save the man who nearly raped you. The man tried to run you down and kill you. No one does that shit so stop lying to me.”
“That’s enough,” Trace told the detective, his voice hard and grim. “You don’t talk to her like that. No one does.” And sure as hell not in front of him. “Skye’s answered your questions. You can see clearly that there is no arterial blood spray on her—”
Alex’s brows shot up.
“She didn’t kill him. Now you can back off. Any other questions can be handled through my attorney, Craig Guthrie.”
“I never thought she’d killed him,” Alex snapped back. “The guy’s head was nearly severed, and she sure doesn’t look like she has the strength to do that. But you…” Now his stare swept over Trace. “I think it would be easy for you to do something like that. Especially if rage was pumping through you. Making you crazy.”
“We should leave,” Skye said. She shifted from her right foot to her left.
“You killed for her once before, right, Weston?” Alex was still pushing. Pushing. “Did you do it again? You were furious when I told you that Parker had made bail—”
Hell, yes, he had been. “Because he could’ve come after Skye again!”
“Trace.” Skye’s voice was urgent.
“And you had to stop him, right? Had to make sure that he never had the chance to get at her again.”
Trace lifted his hands, and Skye’s hand rose with him because he wasn’t loosening his hold on her. “Do you see blood on me?”
“Maybe you were out changing. That’s why I didn’t find you at the crime scene.”
“Good luck proving that.”
The body was loaded into the back of the coroner’s van. Covered in a black bag, zipped up, then shoved in the rear of the vehicle.
Probably not the ending that Parker had expected.
“How’d you know to come down to this alley?” Alex demanded. Suspicion filled his gaze. “If you’re such an innocent guy, Weston.”
“I was looking for Skye. When I got to the street, it was rather damn hard to miss the flashing lights.”
Alex advanced until he and Trace nearly stood nose to nose. “You think I don’t know what you are?” Alex whispered.
“I think you have no clue.” The noise around Trace dimmed. “And believe me, you don’t want to push me.”
“I can see right through the veneer you wear. You’re a killer. Through and through.”
Trace smiled.
“Enough!” Skye demanded. “Just…stop!” Then she shoved between them. “If you want me to come down to the station and answer more questions, Alex, I will—”
“With our attorney,” Trace threw in.
“He’s not our attorney. He’s yours. And I don’t have anything to hide.” Her breath heaved out. “Neither does Trace. He wasn’t even here.”
“So where was he?” Alex queried. “I mean, I’m sure he has an alibi. Just like last time, right?”
Not exactly. “I was in my office. Working.”
“And someone can verify that?”
“I’m sure my assistant, Sara, can.” Like she’d ever go against anything he said. Sara owed him.
“Right. Your assistant.” Alex’s lips twisted.
“I-I have a class to teach.” Skye suddenly blurted. “I have to go. It starts at two.”
Now that seemed to surprise Alex. “Skye, you can’t—”
“I’m not just going to leave my students.” She was adamant. “It’s four blocks away. If you need me, you know where to find me.” Then she marched away from the detective, and she kept her grip on Trace, pulling him with her.
Alex’s glare followed them.
A crowd had gathered to watch the scene. Curious folks who were whispering about the murder that had happened so close to them. There were a lot of murders in that city each year—too many—but when the crime was fresh, the fear struck everyone the strongest.
Skye was silent as they walked down the street. Trace noticed that she had her left hand shoved into the pocket of her sweatshirt. Her right hand held his. But, after a few more feet, she pulled away from him.