“I already told Detective Matthews.” I clasped my hands together on top of the conference table. “I said goodbye to my father Friday night as we left the firm together. I didn’t see him again until this morning when I found…”

Detective Dearborn nodded. “Are you sure you can’t think of anyone who would’ve wanted to harm your father?”

I itched to run my fingers through my hair and yank on the strands, a habit I thought I had outgrown. Clearly not. As my irritation grew, so did the need to make the movement. “No one wanted to hurt my father. He dealt mainly with real estate and business disputes, none of which involved him personally. He didn’t do criminal law. He never prosecuted anyone. None of this makes sense. This town loved him. I mean, he won the Azalea Dancing With the Stars competition for the past three years running. He knows—knew—everyone, and had more friends than he knew what to do with.” Talking about him in past tense made my chest hurt.

“And you’re sure there was nothing in the safe?” The detective chewed on the end of the King and Morris pen between his fingers as he balanced on the back legs of his chair. I made a mental note that if he left the pen behind, to have Margaret trash it immediately.

“I hadn’t seen the inside of that safe in years. And the last time I did see it, it was empty. If my father put something else in there, I wouldn’t have known it. But I can tell you that none of the firm funds were stored on the premises. I manage our bank account, and with Margaret’s help, keep all of our books in order. There was simply nothing of value in there.”

Detective Matthews walked into the conference room with Porter at her elbow.

Though she was dressed casually in jeans and a button-up white shirt, open at the top, she wore her clothes well. The shirt had been ironed, and her simple set of diamond stud earrings added to her femininity. I realized that Porter must’ve been in shock; otherwise, he would’ve been hitting on her. Maybe I was in shock too. When I saw my father’s body, I just shut off. I was still shut off. It didn’t make sense, and I needed time to sort it out and put the puzzle pieces together. But first I had to get the detectives out of my way.

She sank down at the head of the table, completely at ease with taking the lead chair in the room. “We’ve gone through everyone in the office. No one came in over the weekend. I’m not a forensics analyst, but given the state of the blood and the condition of the body, I would hazard a guess that he was killed sometime last night.” She swept her dark hair behind one shoulder and made a few notes as she spoke.

I’d never met her before, but Porter was somewhat familiar with her. They’d known each other in school. I was older and already at college by the time they’d made it to Azalea High. Porter spoke well of her in the few moments we’d had before our separate interviews. I didn’t take his assessment to heart, especially given that he had a tendency to make allowances for women who looked like Arabella Matthews.

She finished scribbling her notes, drummed her pen on the pad, and met my gaze, her green eyes sparkling with an intelligence I didn’t trust. “I’m going to need to get a look at all the files Mr. King was working on. I’ll also need to visit his home and get a list of known associates from you.”

“Files? Absolutely not.” I leaned back in my chair. “All files are protected by attorney-client privilege. I can’t hand them over to you.”

“Ben.” Porter gave me a confused stare. “She needs to investigate and find out who killed our father. Of course you’ll give her the files.”

“I will do no such thing. Those files are confidential. Our clients expect us to safeguard their secrets and to uphold the attorney-client privilege. I don’t intend to violate my professional ethics the moment our father is gone. He would never allow this.”

Detective Matthews stopped drumming her pen. “Tell me, Mr. King. Now that your father is deceased, you’re the last attorney standing with the King last name at this firm. Isn’t that correct?”

My fingers tightened, gripping each other like a life line. “I’m the majority shareholder, yes.”

She scribbled some more notes.

“Hey, wait a minute now.” Porter snatched his hat off his head. “Ben would never—”

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, thank you, Porter.” I cut my gaze back to Detective Matthews and gave her the same look my father could give and make anyone feel like a filthy wad of gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe. “You aren’t getting the files.”

Her partner glanced between us uneasily.

She smiled calmly, almost lazily. It would have been believable if it weren’t for the sharpness of her eyes. “If you won’t cooperate with this investigation, I’ll get a warrant for the files.”

“A warrant won’t be able to get past attorney-client privilege.”

She stood and grabbed her notepad from the table. “I may not be an attorney, but I’m pretty sure I can get a judge to issue a warrant for all of Mr. King’s files, particularly if I request an in camera review by the court to determine if any of the documents should be withheld based on your claim of privilege.”

“Can we do that?” Porter asked her.

She cocked her head to the side. “Sheriff, are you asking me if law enforcement can get and enforce a warrant from a judge?”

Porter squinted a bit. “Um, no?”

She shook her head and gave her partner an exasperated glance.

I shrugged. “You do what you have to do, Detective, and I’ll do what I have to do.” Of course, part of what I had to do was go through each of those files myself to see if I could find any reason for my father’s murder. I wasn’t going to trust such a crucial part of the investigation to the bumbling B-team from the Azalea City Police Department.

“I’ll see you in court.” She brushed off my objections like dust from her shoulder. “Now, on the other matters, I’ll need a key to your father’s house. Do you have one? Unless you’d like me to arrange a warrant for that, too.”

I considered my options as she continued making notes. The house was a warrant fight I wouldn’t win. A murder victim’s home? A judge would grant that warrant request over the phone. Dad had always taught me to choose my battles, and this was one I’d have to let go. I dug around in my pocket and pulled out a key ring. Slipping off the silver one with the square head, I handed it to her. “This will get you in the front door. But I’d like to be present during the search.”

She took it and handed it to her partner, then fixed her gaze on me. “If you don’t mind, would you tell me where you were last night?”

“Come on.” Porter slapped his hat against his leg. “Is this really necessary?”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. I had dinner at about 6 o’clock last night. Then I spent the rest of the evening going over a case file and drafting a brief. I went to bed at about 10:30.” I held her gaze to make it stick.

Her eyes narrowed a tiny bit, but she turned to Porter. “And you?”

“Seriously, Arabella?”

“Porter, you know as well as I do that I have to cover all the bases here. Just tell me where you were.” Her phone beeped and she pulled it from her pocket and read the screen. “Dr. Monroe, the forensic analyst, is almost here.”

He snugged his hat on his head. “I had supper at Shady’s Diner and then I went over to Vorayna Clearwater’s house.”

The male detective shifted on his feet and glowered at Porter, but stayed silent.

“You spend the night there?”

Porter chuckled. “Hell no. I was there for two hours tops. Then I went home and played Call of Duty online for an hour before bed.”

She nodded. “That’s all I need for now. But if I have to verify the hours, would you be willing to submit your gaming console to determine when you were online—” She glanced at me. “And your laptop for evaluation so we can determine the times you were writing your brief?”

I ground my teeth together. “If your investigation proceeds any further into my brother or me, we will lawyer up and fight you every inch of the way. Mainly because you’d be wasting your time instead of doing your job and catching who actually killed our father.”

Her direct stare probably made most people sweat. Not me. Though looking at her determined face, her green eyes luminous, was no hardship on my part. “If that’s all, I’ll show you out.” I stood and walked them to the front door. “Please keep me informed of what you discover.”

“I’m sorry Mr. King, but this is an active investigation.” She strode out the front door, her partner on her heels. “We’ll keep our information close to the vest for as long as necessary to solve this crime. I’m also going to send Brody over to keep an eye on the firm until the evidence has been bagged and the body removed. Given the nature of the note left on the body, I think it would be prudent for us to station a uniform outside your home for the next few days.”

I waved the suggestion away. “That won’t be necessary. We don’t even know who the note was intended for.”

She paused, her hand on the Greek column at the head of the stairs. “We don’t, but better safe than sorry. There’s a killer on the loose.”

“I’ll just stay over with Benton until this is cleared up,” Porter offered. “I don’t think anybody’s going to roll up on us when they see the Sheriff’s car out front.”

I didn’t particularly want Porter staying at my place, especially considering his love for making a mess and never cleaning up after himself, but it would certainly be preferable to having a police cruiser parked across the street. All my neighbors would be talking as it was.

She stashed her notepad inside her jacket. “You okay with letting him stay, Mr. King?”

I grudgingly gave my answer. “Yes.”

“Good. Logan and I are going to head over to your father’s house. You’re welcome to come and watch the search.”

“I will after I speak to the staff.”

“Fair enough, but I’m warning you, Mr. King.” She put iron in her tone. “Don’t get in our way.”

“My intention isn’t to get in your way, it’s to make sure you do your job adequately.”

She turned to fully face me. “Let’s get one thing straight before we go any further. I’m in charge of this investigation. Not you. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with Chief Garvey. But if you want your father’s killer found, you’ll let me do my job. And if I decide that you are willfully interfering in my investigation, I won’t hesitate to charge you with obstruction.”

Porter held out a hand. “Hey now. We don’t need to turn on each other. All of us want to find who did this, me and Benton especially. It was our father, after all.” His voice shook before he cleared his throat. “The sheriff’s department is at your disposal if you need any assistance.”

“Thanks for the offer.” She tempered her words, though I could feel irritation simmering beneath her surface. “I realize both of you went through quite a shock, and I’m not trying to be insensitive. But I am going to work this case, and I would prefer to have cooperation—from both of you—as we move forward. All right?” She peered up at me.

I chewed my words before spitting them out. “I’m not changing my stance on the attorney-client privilege, but I want to find who did this. I’ll help you all I can.”

“That’s good enough for me. Detective Dearborn and I are going to head to the house.” She turned and dropped down the stairs.

“Don’t go in until I get there.”

Detective Dearborn gave me a half-ass salute and followed Matthews to their car.

A white Camry pulled into the lot, parked, and a woman stepped out. She wore professional attire, and I could have believed she was an attorney coming for business. A young man stepped from the passenger side, his simple khakis and green polo giving the impression of an intern.

“Pauline.” Detective Matthews walked down the front steps and greeted the woman. They exchanged words for a few moments before Pauline, her blonde hair restrained in a tight bun at the crown of her head, opened the trunk and directed the man to collect a few items.

“That’s the forensic doctor woman from Tupelo and her tech assistant.” Porter’s stage whisper wafted through the humid air.

The detectives piled into their cruiser as the forensics doctor and her assistant approached.

“Sheriff.” The doctor gave a nod of recognition to Porter. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Then her tone turned all business. “Show me the way.”

Porter walked her into the building, the crime scene tech on her heels, as I watched the detectives pull into the street and head toward the residential area of town.

Porter reappeared. “She’s doing her thing, and she said she’s already called the coroner to come in behind her. The guy’s taking pics and collecting evidence.” He put his hands on his belt and stared out at the perfect square of green lawn in front of the firm. We used to play on it when we were kids. Dad would be shut up in his office or meeting with a client, and we’d play tag or toss a football until it was time to go home. I could almost feel the warm sun from those days, but now I stood in the shade.

Porter stirred, kicking the toe of his boot against the railing. “What the hell just happened?”

“I have no idea.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone.” His brows drew together as he stared at the flowers along the front walk. “This doesn’t seem real.”

I had nothing to say. He was right. It didn’t feel real. It was as if I could walk into the office and hear my father’s voice floating down the hall. But I couldn’t. We’d never hear his voice again.

“One question.” He stopped his kicking. “Why’d you lie about where you were last night?”

I met his eye. “I could ask you the same thing.”