“What’s going on?” she asked.

“You’ll see when Finch gets here,” he replied.

Clasping his hands loosely in his lap, Jonah leaned back and studied Hunsacker from beneath half-closed eyelids.

“What’s with you?” Hunsacker asked, bristling beneath Jonah’s unyielding scrutiny. “What’s with you?” Jonah replied.

Hunsacker stretched his collar as if Jonah made him nervous. Jonah would make anyone nervous with the hard-ass expression he was wearing. He could tell something was up, too.

The door opened, and Finch walked in, carrying a file. He dropped it on the conference table, but didn’t sit down. “How’s the arm?” he asked, nodding toward the big white bandage covering her stitches.

Knowing he wasn’t truly concerned, only trying for a decent start to what would likely be a less than pleasant meeting, she shrugged. “It’ll heal.”

“Could’ve been a lot worse. You’re aware of that, right?”

She braced for his full reaction. “Nice segue.”

“Dog like that could’ve torn out your jugular,” he went on. “Then where would you be?”

“With a severed jugular, I’m quite certain I’d be dead.” Careful not to put pressure on her stitches, she leaned on the table. “That means we should be able to charge Mr. Vaughn with attempted murder.”

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“You think so? When you were warned, by us and by the Beware of Dog signs, to keep your distance yet returned to his property, anyway?” He folded his arms. “Tell me. If you’re so scared of Mr. Vaughn, why did you go back?”

“Because I’m determined to stop him before he kills anyone else. And I want to be able to quit looking over my shoulder.”

“You think what you did last night will help?”

“Whether or not I should’ve been there, what he did was illegal. You can’t order your dog to tear someone apart just because that person’s on your property.”

He rested the bulk of his upper body on his knuckles. “The ‘order’ part is where I’m having trouble, Ms. Moretti. From my perspective, it looks as if you ignored our directive to stay beyond the fence and went snooping around, even though there was a watchdog in the yard.”

“Typical P.I. bullshit,” Hunsacker muttered.

Finch threw his partner an irritated glance, and ignored the interruption. “At that stage, you were accidentally locked in when they closed for the night.”

Jonah uncrossed his ankles. He’d been sitting silently, letting Francesca take her lumps. They’d both known what was coming, but he seemed to have reached the end of his patience with how they were proceeding. “I told you what happened last night. It was no accident. So if you want to berate her, at least stick to the facts.”

“And I wasn’t snooping,” Francesca argued. “I was trying to hear a conversation between Butch and his wife.”

“Eavesdropping is just as bad!” Hunsacker snapped.

That was enough to make Jonah jump in again. “Come on. What she did took guts. If she’d come away with some piece of information that nailed Butch you’d be calling her a hero. You can’t have it both ways.”

Unwilling to let Jonah draw their fire—what had happened certainly wasn’t his fault—she spoke before the investigators could respond. “I got the name of his mistress. That opens up a lot of possibilities.”

“Does it?” Hunsacker said. “What possibilities? Because I’ve already visited Kelly Martin’s place. She has nothing but wonderful things to say about Butch.”

“It’s nice that the two of you have so much in common,” Francesca said.

“You can go to hell!” he retorted.

Sitting taller, Jonah directed his comments to Hunsacker. “That doesn’t mean Kelly won’t change her mind.”

Francesca spoke up again. “What about the other woman Paris brought up? Julia. Did you check the missing persons list? It would certainly be suspicious if she’s on there.”

Hunsacker clicked his tongue. “I hate to break this to you, but there is no Julia.”

This took Francesca aback. She knew that name had some significance. Paris had seemed relieved that the police hadn’t come knocking, looking for information about Julia. That meant someone should be asking, didn’t it? “What Paris said means something. I know it does. You won’t find Bianca on any missing persons list, either. Yet she’s dead.”

“You’re stretching.” Hunsacker again.

“No, I’m not. This Julia could be from out of town, and in that case she wouldn’t be reported as missing in this area.” She tucked her hair behind her ears as she puzzled through it. “Or…maybe she was a runaway. Or she could’ve been a homeless woman. Or even a prostitute. There’re a lot of reasons she might not be on the list. But that name is significant.”

Hunsacker’s whole body jiggled as he laughed. “You’ve got quite an imagination, you know that?”

She glared at him. “Stop patronizing me.”

“What else do you want me to do?”

“Charge Butch for what he did to me last night!”

“You might want to listen to her about Butch,” Jonah said. “He knew she was in the yard when he told Dean to close the gate. You don’t seem to be listening—I told you this last night—but I witnessed the whole thing. I watched him bring the dog outside, even heard his wife pleading with him not to turn the animal loose.”

Hunsacker rolled his eyes. “Or you’re trying to protect her. You come to her rescue every time she gets herself in trouble.”

“Kiss my ass,” Jonah snapped. “You weren’t there.”

“Exactly! I wasn’t there,” he responded. “But I know Butch puts that dog out every night.”

“It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t a routine act,” Jonah insisted.

Finch straightened his tie. “How would we prove that he knowingly locked her in?”

The investigators’ stubborn resistance made Francesca feel hopeless. “What are you talking about? You have two witnesses. We told you what happened.”

“Like you told us he had a dead body in the yard?” Hunsacker said.

With a bitter laugh, she got up. “Under the circumstances, anyone would’ve thought that mannequin was a body, Hunsacker. Or do you have your head so far up Butch’s ass that you would’ve turned a blind eye, regardless?”




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