“Someone in Belclare has an impressive rap sheet?”
“No.” She scowled at her phone another minute or two while he wolfed down more of his burger. “This guy’s current address is a morgue in Baltimore. Preliminary cause of death is head trauma.”
Alarms went off in Riley’s mind. The implications of that were pretty dangerous for her.
“I should get to the office.” She looked longingly at her plate, clearly irritated by the idea of leaving her dinner unfinished. “I love these burgers, but my appetite is gone.” She grimaced and tossed her phone back into her purse.
“It won’t wait until morning?”
She shook her head. “I need to head this off with the Baltimore P.D.”
He agreed 100 percent. Someone was trying to set her up for murder. The why was an easy guess. If she was in legal trouble it would get her out of the way. But who needed her out of the way and what did they have planned when they succeeded? Planting evidence of a crime was a potential goal of its own. Make the chief look guilty and muddy her reputation, lessen the good and the impact of her big takedown.
That effort would prove impotent. Abby was one of the most recognized and respected people in town. Unless time of death was the middle of the night, it was likely someone in Belclare could offer her an alibi. As her neighbor, he could easily vouch for the times that her car came and went from the driveway between their houses.
“Are you worried?”
Her blue eyes narrowed at him. “Are you asking if I did it?”
He snorted. “I know you didn’t do it.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Care to explain how it is you’re so certain? I haven’t even given you any details.”
“I don’t need them. You live next door and I’m a light sleeper.” He leaned closer. “I’m using the bedroom on that side of the house. Your car didn’t go anywhere last night.”
“You didn’t happen to hear anyone busting open my garage and stealing my shovel, did you?”
“No,” he confessed with a shake of his head. “They managed that sometime after I left for work.”
“You think they wanted me to find it.”
He shrugged. “Sure. It was a hassle for you, this morning, right?”
“It was a violation,” she said, her voice hard. “Something like this could cost me my job, whether or not I’m innocent.”
“Just proves my point. Whoever did it got to you, threw a wrench in your schedule, and now that you have a body to go along with the bloody shovel you have a serious, ongoing distraction from your responsibilities in Belclare.”
“For a guy who’s just passing through you seem to have your finger on the pulse around here.”
He grinned at her. “I keep telling you I like your town. When will you believe me?”
She winced. “It may not be my town much longer.”
“That’s doubtful. You don’t strike me as the type to go down without a fight.” He winked at her. “I’ve seen the video that proves it.”
Those bright blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “If I could go back in time and tell myself to shut up, I would.”
He laughed. “And miss all this fun?”
A fire truck went roaring past the pub and her phone rang again.
She pulled it out of her bag, but when she read the message, all the blood drained from her face. “The police station’s on fire.”
He caught the waitress’s attention and signaled for the check. “Let’s get you over there.”
“I can walk.”
“Absolutely not.” It might be the opening her enemies were looking for. Tossing cash onto the table, he escorted her through the pub with a hand at the small of her back.
Her poise and self-control impressed him. She carried her head high, her stride easy, but he felt the tension in her rigid posture and the tight muscles under his fingertips. Any more stressful surprises would break another person, but he didn’t think Abby would snap. Not now, not ever. While he admired her fortitude, he worried that her unyielding nature would only push the culprits behind this threat to up the ante. His concerns were justified as they reached the police station and found the end of the building closest to the employee parking area engulfed in flames.
“Some days I long for a world without YouTube,” she said as he parked across the street, well away from the responding firefighters.
“If the problem is a terrorist cell within Belclare, YouTube is irrelevant,” he pointed out. He turned, feeling her intense gaze on him. “What?”
“Again, not sounding like a typical construction worker.”