The Detective's Dilemma. Karen McCullough

going to look for an apartment.”

      “If you’re sure. Let me know when you’ve found a place. Don’t lose touch.”

      “Okay.” She ended the call.

      Christianson asked, “Which one of the sons was that?” The ice was back in his eyes and voice.

      “The younger. Marc. He’s always been nice to me.”

      “How did he feel about his father?”

      “As far as I know they got along okay. The older brother, Dan, though… I don’t think he ever forgave his father for divorcing his mother. And I was the icing on that resentment cake.”

      “Did he resent it enough to kill him?”

      She rolled that possibility around in her mind. “It’s kind of hard to believe, but I guess it’s possible. I can’t imagine why he would’ve waited this long, though. I’ve been…I was with Vince for three years.”

      Christianson scribbled notes on a legal pad. Once he finished, he got up. “I think we’re done with this for the moment.” He looked over at Hennesy. “Got any more questions?”

      “Nope.”

      “I’ll take you back to the hotel,” Christianson said. “I’ll see if I can get evidence to release your car. It may take a couple of days. Let me have your cell number and I’ll give you a call.”

      She gave him the number and stood.

      On the way home, he stopped at a fast-food sandwich place. “I’m hungry,” he said as he pulled into the drive-through lane. “You?”

      “Starving. I slept through lunch.”

      “Why didn’t you say something?”

      “I didn’t realize it until just now.”

      In addition to his own food, he bought her a sandwich, French fries, and a soda. When she offered a five-dollar bill, he refused to take it and said he’d put it on his expense report. As they pulled out of the parking lot, she noticed a machine dispensing newspapers and asked if he could stop long enough for her to get one.

      “I wouldn’t have guessed you for a news junkie,” he said when she got back in the car. He must have seen her expression change because he added, “Wait. This isn’t about brains or knowledge. It’s about interests.”

      She let out a breath and nodded. “You’re right. I bought it for the classifieds and the rental guide. I need to find an apartment. Fast. And cheap.”

      “Most cheap apartments are in places a young woman should not be living by herself.”

      “You have a better idea? I don’t have a lot of money to spend. Even if I get a part-time job, the only things I can do won’t earn a whole lot.”

      “I’ll ask around. But do me a favor. Check with me before you commit to a place. I’ll tell you if there’s a serious risk or not.”

      “All right. Can I get your number?”

      After he’d turned into the hotel parking lot and stopped, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. “The number’s on here. Give me a call about the apartment. Also if you think of anything or come across anything that might relate to who wanted Capelli dead.”

      “I will. Detective…” She stared at him. The sun rested just above the horizon, its rays coming from behind and to one side, outlining him in a halo of light. For a moment, she saw the man and not just the police detective. Scary, because he was a damned appealing man. Handsome, but not pretty-handsome the way a few of the nicer looking guys in some of her classes were. More rugged-handsome, with echoes of his life already showing on his lean, angular face. The strong muscle, controlled expression, and the tense lines that bracketed his mouth hinted at a man who’d seen unspeakable things, had suffered personal setbacks, yet retained a fundamental strength and integrity. The sunlight also picked out a few silver threads in his dark brown hair, though she didn’t think he could be older than his mid-thirties and was probably a couple of years younger than that.

      This was scary and dangerous. The man likely thought her guilty of murder. She couldn’t afford to regard him as anything but an enemy, which made his kindness all the more insidious. He might be doing it to get closer to her in hopes she’d somehow betray her guilt.

      Yet… The way he examined her face, gaze lingering on her lips and cheeks, suggested some awareness on his part as well. And the slight twist of his lips indicated he wasn’t any happier about the attraction.

      A horn blared nearby, jolting them out of the distraction. His expression reverted to its professional remoteness.

      “What time is your first class tomorrow?”

      “Tomorrow’s Friday? Nine.”

      “I’ll ask tonight and see what we can do about your car.”

      Sarah reached for the door. “I hate to push it, but can I ask for one more thing?”

      “What?”

      “My books and papers and laptop. They’re all in a bag in my room. I’ll need them. I’m behind in my homework now.”

      “I’ll ask about those, too.”

      “Thank you for supper and all your help.” She opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind her.

      He pulled out of the parking space as soon as she’d made it to the hotel room door.

      Chapter 4

      As she ate the sandwich and fries in the plain, lonely hotel room, Sarah studied the apartment listings in the classifieds section. After eliminating those she couldn’t afford and some in places too dangerous, three remained.

      One had already been let, she learned when she called the number given in the ad. The other two were still available. She made appointments to look at them on Saturday, hoping she’d have her car back by then.

      With nothing else to do, she settled in for an evening of watching television. At a few minutes past nine, Detective Christianson called.

      “You can get your car back,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. Someone from evidence will put your books and stuff in the back seat. It’s the Accord, right?”

      “Yes. Thank you!”

      As promised, he showed up at the hotel just before eight-thirty the next morning and drove her to the house to get the car. Her backpack sat on the backseat and she got to her first class on time.

      At lunchtime, Rob Helmond walked by with a tray, stopped, and asked if he could join her. Sarah nodded to the seat opposite.

      She and Rob had shared a couple of classes the previous year. He was cute, pleasant, and personable. He’d tried to pursue her for more than friendship for a while but eventually got the message she wasn’t interested and backed off.

      “I heard about your friend,” he said. “I’m sorry. It must have been terrible.”

      “It was.”

      “Are you all right?”

      Sarah didn’t want to encourage him to start pursuing her again, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to talk with someone willing to listen. She told him what had happened and her fears that the police would arrest her.

      He paid attention, offering words of encouragement, but did nothing more. When they finally parted to go to their separate classes, she felt better for having had that conversation.

      That afternoon she found a free apartment rental guidebook and culled a few more possibilities.

      On Saturday, she looked at apartments. The first two places she visited were hopelessly bad, one a damp basement with an unbearable odor problem. The second had broken windows, although