Chapter 39: He Does Believe Her

“That’s okay.”
I’m used to it. Only Mark ever believed Grace. Only Mark understood and she had no idea where he was. He had from the very beginning.
She sighed, drinking in Zach’s warmth that made her head spin. How could she be with him anyway when he made her feel sick? She disengaged herself from him, then stood. “Coffee?”
His gaze searched hers as if for an answer. “I don’t love her. I haven’t for a long time. That doesn’t stop me from worrying about her.”
“I realized that Zach. I just need to move.”
Two detectives appeared in the waiting room door. “Grace Harmony?”
“That’s me.”
“We need to talk to you. At the station.”
Zach stood. “This can’t wait, Josh?”
The detectives exchanged a glance. “No, Zach, it can’t.”
Grace didn’t know what to say. Would she get a chance to see Dolores if she wasn’t here? Would she rewind or would Dolores’ death always weigh on her mind.
Like the last time. She couldn’t do this again.
“Uh, do I need a lawyer?” she asked.
“Yes.”
A chill went down her spine.
“Wait a second. What do you have on her?” Zach asked. He put himself between her and his fellow officers.
“We can’t say, here, but we need to speak with Miss Harmony.”
“Josh, Bill, tell me.”
“We’ve found the murder weapon.”
“Okay, so,” Zach said.
She put a hand on his shoulder. He’d be risking his job. “Don’t. I’ll go. Find me a lawyer.”
She’d need to see Dolores. Maybe in the morgue. She gathered her purse, patted Zach on the arm, then followed the pair to an unmarked car.
When she turned around, Zach was in the hospital doorway, watching her. She waved and climbed into the vehicle.
***
They didn’t cuff her, but she looked restrained anyway. Zach went back to the waiting room, racking his brain for why finding the murder weapon meant questioning Grace. She had no connection to this event.
The nurse came in. “Mr. Holton? I’m sorry, but Dolores didn’t make it.”
“Thanks.”
He jammed a hand through his hair, not sure what to do next. Dolores didn’t have any known relatives. Her parents had died years before leaving her wealthy.
Not sure what his next move was, he drove to the police station. On his way he phoned a lawyer friend.
Kyle Walton had been Zach’s friend since high school. When Zach went to the police academy, Kyle went to college. As Zach took the detective’s exam, Kyle was passing the bar.
Not a criminal attorney, the two had never crossed paths professionally. Until now.
“Do you know what time it is? It is almost happy hour.”
Zach grimaced. “I didn’t realize it was late. It’s an
Emergency.”
“I have not doubt it is. You in trouble?”
“No, but someone I know is. She’s at the station for
Questioning.”
“She? Dolores?”
“No, she died tonight. Someone shot her.”
“Oh, Zach I’m sorry.”
He’d worry about Dolores’ death later. Grace problem he could do something about. He hoped she would let him. “Thanks, but I think Grace needs your help.”
“Grace. I’ll be at your office in fifteen minutes.
Tell her not to answer any questions until I get there.”
“She’s been there for a few minutes, now.”
“Then you get there and hold them off. Professional courtesy or something.”   
Zach disconnected, hoping he wasn’t too late.
***
Grace sat in the interrogation room, a lukewarm cup of coffee in front of her. No one would tell her anything. No one would tell her if Dolores died.
Her gaze kept straying to where a clock should be. She had no idea what time it was. Her cell was off and in her purse, but they’d taken that.
She did know Dolores was probably dead. And she’d have to go back again. And Zach wouldn’t know her. Her heart ached at the idea.
She could not think of a reason why she sat here stewing. What game were they playing?
Finally, the two detectives that had brought her in, arrived in the room.
“I’m Detective Harding. This is Detective Warren.”
Harding had a day’s growth of beard on a loose-fleshed face. Warren was younger and slimmer as if he hadn’t grown into his body yet. Mark looked like that when they first met.
“Why am I here and do I need a lawyer.”
Harding sat on the edge of the table, on the opposite of her. His warm smile didn’t soothe her. “Please don’t do the “good cop/bad cop.”
“We have some questions about your version of the story.”
“My version?”
Grace’s mouth went dry. She’d been in interrogation rooms before today. And the scenario had always worked out, but not without a fight. She steeled herself.
“You say you heard the shot and came running from you apartment.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t see anyone exit Ms. Holten’s house.”
“No, but I wasn’t looking either. The night was dark and there were no lights on.”
“You didn’t turn on an outside light?”
“The one outside of my place had blown out and I had not replaced it.”
Dolores could corroborate her story. If she were alive.
“Did anyone else notice this?”
“Other than my landlord?”
“Yes.”
“Not that I know of.”
“Ms. Holten maybe?”
“Yes, but I don’t think she’s in any state to tell you that.”
The detectives exchanged a glance.
“She’s dead isn’t she?”
“Now why would you think that?” Harding asked.
“Because of your look. The one that passed between you.”
“We found the murder weapon.”
Ah, here it comes. “Where??
“In the trashcan on the other side of the garage.”   
“Makes sense if he came out of Dolores’ house and ran.”
“He? Why do you think it’s a ‘he’?”
“I assumed.”
“Or you know something about it?” Warren this time.
Her head went back and forth as if she were at a tennis match making her neck ache. “No, I don’t. I’m done talking. I want a lawyer.”