Colton's Killer Pursuit

She couldn’t let Gram end her life that way. “I’ll talk to her about the plea agreement,” she said out loud.

“There are mitigating circumstances here. The fact that she didn’t hurt the baby, in fact, loved him well during the hours he was in her home, that she never even threatened to harm him, that she’d tried to get someone to look at your case through all normal channels, that his mother doesn’t want to press charges... By law, all of that allows the DA to offer a plea agreement that would be much more in her favor,” Clarke said, as though he was on Gram’s side.

And, though her guard didn’t come down where he was concerned, that comment did have her softening toward him a little bit.

* * *

At Everleigh’s request that he not accompany her to see her grandmother, Clarke waited for her out in the parking lot. It meant he had to turn the vehicle on a few times to keep warm, but he wasn’t keen on hanging out in prison reception.

The Free Granny protesters were out in full force, in spite of the cold, lined up along the wall with their signs, warming their gloved hands over disposable coffee cups. Melissa had told him that the group was being well run, with everyone serving shifts and stationed outside the GGPD and the prison. They also had a quickly growing social-media presence.

Where they needed to be was outside the DA’s office.

And even then...did they really want to have a society run by herd justice, as opposed to laws? If it were up to him, Hannah McPherson wouldn’t have spent one minute in jail, but you couldn’t just let a kidnapper go free because you understood their motive.

The ramifications of that... What if anytime anyone felt their cause justified, they just broke the law?

Where had all the protesters been when Everleigh was in prison? If more had raised a fuss to free her, maybe Bowe’s wrongdoings would have been found out sooner. Everleigh had proclaimed her innocence from the beginning, but no one had listened.

Except for Hannah McPherson.

But then she’d broken the law. She didn’t proclaim her innocence. They’d found the toddler in her home. And now protesters got involved?

The time in the car gave him a chance to formulate a plan of investigation. He’d started his early February Thursday morning expecting to be pursuing the Randall Bowe case. Instead, Troy would be taking a lead on that, and while he’d still be helping, his first priority now was Everleigh Emerson. Keeping her safe. And finding out who wanted her dead.

With a constant watch on the prison door, just in case she didn’t text him that she was on her way out as he’d instructed so he could pick her up at the curb, he took out the little notebook and pen from his inner coat pocket and started jotting notes.

Questions for Everleigh mostly.

Maybe whoever was after her had nothing to do with her husband’s killer, but his instincts were telling him the murder and subsequent murder attempt were connected.

Could be someone had wanted both her and Fritz dead. Someone who benefited from them both being gone before their divorce was final, maybe? But then, why not kill her off, too? Before she was sent to jail?

Who would such a beneficiary be? They had no children. She’d mentioned life insurance... Did they have a joint policy? He jotted another question.

And his text-message alert sounded. She was ready.

And so was he. Ready to get to work on her case.

But first...

“How’d it go?” he asked, trying to assess her expression as she climbed quickly back in beside him, waving as the protesters cheered her. The waft of floral perfume that came with her distracted him.

She shrugged. Stared out the front window. Taking her cue, he drove off the premises. And then asked, “What did she say about the plea-agreement angle?”

“That she’d think about it.”

Could mean so many things. “Do you think she will really consider it?” Or had it been a polite blow-off? How could anyone choose to spend more time in jail than necessary?

“Yes. She wouldn’t tell me she’d do something and then not do it.”

But still, Everleigh was clearly upset. If anyone had hurt the eighty-year-old woman...

“How was she doing?”

With a grimace, Everleigh glanced at him, her eyes moist, though there were no visible tears. “Better than I am,” she told him. “She’s in good spirits, really. Proud of herself for getting me out. For helping to prove my innocence. She wants me to be happy about it, too, and while I’m relieved to the point of light-headedness at being exonerated, not at the cost of her being in prison...”

It was almost as though he could feel her pain. The helplessness of knowing that someone was suffering as a result of caring for you, and there was nothing you could do to help them. He’d felt a bit of the same in the recent breakup nightmare. If he’d had any idea the woman had wanted a li