Texas Tall (The Tylers of Texas 3)

“You say you couldn’t tell who the man was, Erin?” Abner Sweeney checked his antiquated cassette recorder, to make sure it was still working, and put it back on the coffee table. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his neck. He was under orders from Stella to find something—anything—that might incriminate Will Tyler in her brother’s death. So far, this poised twelve-year-old girl wasn’t giving it to him.

“He was wearing a helmet that covered his eyes,” she said. “I could sort of see his mouth, but not really because it was dark. I thought he was the robber we heard about on the radio. I’m pretty sure my dad did, too.”

“Did the man say anything?”

“I couldn’t hear. The window was closed.”

“I see.” Abner nodded, vaguely aware that he had to pee. It tended to happen when he was nervous, and he was nervous now. Not so much because of the girl, but because of her lawyer mother, sitting to one side, watching him the way a cougar would watch a sheep, ready to pounce at the first misstep. At least he’d managed to keep Will out of the room by insisting he had to question him and his daughter separately.

“Let me ask you something else, Erin. Did either of your parents tell you how to answer my questions?”

“Yes. They told me to tell the truth.”

“Then tell me the truth now. Did you see the knife?”

“Yes.”

“Where was it?” Abner tried to ignore the urges of his bladder. Maybe he needed to have his prostate checked. He was getting to that age.

“Where was the knife, Erin?” he asked again.

“In the man’s hand.”

“What did he do with it? Here, show me with this.” He handed her the ballpoint pen from his pocket.

“He put his arm back like this.” She demonstrated, bringing the pen up and back, as if about to throw it.

“Did he throw it, or even start to?”

“No. That was when my dad shot him.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Erin.” And that, Abner told himself as he switched off the recorder, was as good as he was going to get.

* * *

Tori gave Erin a hug and sent her out of the den, where the interview had taken place. “Go see if Bernice needs any help,” she said. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Tori thought that Will would’ve been proud of their daughter, but one thing troubled her. When Erin indicated that the dead man hadn’t moved the knife forward to throw it, the sheriff ’s bland expression had undergone a subtle change—a narrowing of the eyes, a tightening of the lips. As a courtroom lawyer, she’d learned to read people, and she didn’t like what she’d seen.

Should she tell Will, or would that just worry him? She put the question aside as Will walked into the den, so tall and strong, and so totally in command that his presence seemed to fill the room. She didn’t have to be here, Tori reminded herself. They’d been divorced for eight years, and she was doing her best to move on. Meeting Drew had given her hope that she really could move on.

Will’s domineering ways had always made her a little crazy. Today was just one more reminder of that. But Will had gotten into this mess protecting their daughter. For that, she owed him.

The sheriff had excused himself to rush down the hall to the guest bathroom, giving Tori a moment alone with Will. He walked over to the armchair, where she sat perched on the edge; his broad-shouldered frame loomed above her. “How did Erin do?” he asked.

“She did us proud. Calm and cool, spoke right up—more than a match for the likes of Abner Sweeney.”

A smile twitched at one corner of his grimly set mouth. “At least we did one thing right, d

idn’t we?”

“We did.” And we did most other things wrong—my open defiance, Will’s siding with his father, and the last thing, the darkest thing, when he accused me of something that didn’t happen. Will never apologized; and I never forgave him.

“Will, let’s get started.” The sheriff bustled back into the den, took his seat, and turned on the recorder. Will sat down at the end of the sectional leather sofa. “I hope you won’t mind if I record your testimony. There’s going to be an inquest, and I want to make sure your version of what happened is accurate.”