“No.” He didn’t flinch. “Deke Maynard is a killer, the mastermind behind all of this. We just got confirmation.”
“The convenient lies of an expert assassin,” Deke countered, shaking his head as if the accusations were nothing more serious than the ranting of an unhappy child. “I saw the media footage of him with that poor woman’s car. Quite a heroic feat, designed to impress you, Abby. He’s been lying to you all along. I’ve been doing some research of my own and Riley O’Brien is not who he claims he is.”
“You know damn good and well I didn’t have anything to do with any of this, Abby,” Riley argued, fury darkening his face.
Deke made a disapproving tsk-tsk. “He got that close? You mustn’t blame yourself. His specific...ah...skills are well-known in unsavory circles.”
Abby tried to summon her voice but it wasn’t happening. All she could do was watch the two men who had fooled her so completely. Maybe she didn’t deserve to be Belclare’s chief of police after all.
“Deke is a terrorist,” Riley accused. “The dump of Filmore’s phone records shows a connection.”
“The man and I chatted frequently about what was best for the town,” Deke explained. “You know how obsessed he is with preservation.”
Abby struggled with the decision. They were both so convincing. She searched for a defining question, one that would expose the liar. “Someone convinced Filmore to set that fire.”
“A search of his home turned up nothing of consequence,” Deke said, dropping his hands to his pockets with a new measure of confidence that no one was going to shoot him. “I believe he thought he could save the town by making you look bad.”
Deke glanced beyond her, to her left. What was he looking for? She risked a glance in that direction, but she didn’t see any movement. If someone was closing in on them, the Lewiston guard would fire or, at the very least, warn her.
“Think, Abby,” Riley challenged, bringing her attention back on point. His gun was still trained on Deke.
“Lower the gun,” she repeated, the mixture of hurt and anger building in her chest making it hard to breathe.
Riley shot her a disappointed look but did as she asked this time. Abby looked from Deke to Riley and back again. Her heart screamed for her to make the right choice, her temper told her to drag them both to jail.
“Yes, do think carefully,” Deke said, his voice steady and smooth as silk while she wrestled with her indecision. “This man, this stranger, has used you to further a terrible cause.”
“How long are you going to listen to this crap?” Riley demanded. “How well do you really know him, Abby?”
Deke was the eccentric artist, the local recluse who only came down from his studio to grace the people with enough wisdom and charm to keep them satisfied. And perpetually curious. Beyond weekly coffee and the occasional canvas displayed in the gallery window, what did she know about how he spent his time or where his assets came from?
She didn’t want to believe he was the bad guy, but she couldn’t quite believe he was a federal agent.
A wave of guilt rushed over her. She’d enjoyed his attentions, believing his interest and supportive friendship had been genuine. Had his flattery made her blind to the facts of his true nature?
“Finish this, Abby,” Riley urged. “Don’t make a mistake that will get us both killed.”
His voice slid low and rough across her senses, much as those working hands of his had slipped over her body last night. If he was the assassin Deke claimed, Riley had certainly been close enough to take her out any number of times, as well.
It was the worst kind of standoff. She was staring at a hero and a killer. She only had to decide which one was which. Being wrong could very well cost her her life. Being right could cost her the love of her life. She nearly laughed at herself for ever thinking she enjoyed making the tough calls.
Sirens approached and brakes squealed, making the turn from the paved road into the gravel parking lot. Here was her backup—who would she send back in cuffs?
“Abby,” Deke coaxed. “You know me.”
“He’s a liar, Abby,” Riley insisted.
Her gaze locked with Riley’s and suddenly she knew. Heart and gut instinct aligned in one perfect moment of clarity. Riley had warned her there was more to this situation and he’d repeatedly asked her who stood to gain. She couldn’t prove it in legal terms, but she wouldn’t have to. Unless she was wrong.
Her backup rushed into position next to her.
“Arrest Mr. Maynard,” she announced. She kept her gun trained on Deke until Officer Gadsden had him handcuffed. “I’ll notify Homeland Security.” She risked a look at Riley. “Mr. O’Brien?”