Lawman-in-Charge. Laura Scott

described Sam. Trouble did too. But even if his son had been at the lake last night, that didn’t mean he’d had anything to do with Liza’s death. As far as he knew, Sam hadn’t been caught doing anything illegal.

      Yet Sam hadn’t been home earlier when he’d come in from work. And he’d claimed he was hanging out with Doug. Luke thought back to when he’d gotten the call about finding Liza. He’d torn out of the house, heading straight to the crime scene without checking Sam’s room.

      But now that he thought about it, Sam’s large, rusted, black four-wheel-drive Chevy truck hadn’t been in the driveway when he left. His gut clenched again. What time had the call come in? Quarter after two in the morning?

      He told himself to relax, that Sam often didn’t come home by his curfew. He’d verify where Sam had spent the night, and it was highly likely Sam had a decent alibi.

      Sam claimed to hate Luke for moving them to this small, podunk town, as he described it. But Sam wasn’t a bad kid. He may have gotten into a few fights, but always with other boys, never taking his anger out on a girl. Sam was quiet, not doing well in school, but that was normal teenage stuff. No, there was no reason for him to worry about Sam, not over something like this.

      Not cold, premeditated murder.

      “Thanks for the information,” he said, when he belatedly realized Megan was waiting for his response. “Don’t worry, we’ll check into every possibility.”

      “I’m sure you will.” Megan looked slightly embarrassed, as if realizing she was ordering him around. She gave him a strained smile before turning toward her car. “We’ll need decent light, so I’ll meet you at the diner in three hours to start the search.”

      “I’ll have everyone ready to go by then,” he agreed.

      He watched her drive off. He didn’t leave right away. First he made his phone calls, ordering the deputies to report to work and then leaving a message for the mayor. Once those two most important tasks were finished, he debated between going home and going straight to the office.

      After a short internal argument, he headed home. He told himself the main reason was to change clothes, knowing that this was going to be a long day with potential media exposure. As the interim sheriff, he was expected to be in uniform at all times.

      But his heart squeezed in his chest when he pulled into the driveway.

      Sam’s truck still wasn’t there.

      Luke strode into the house, straight down the hall into Sam’s room. The bed wasn’t made, but then again, it rarely was. He stood in the center of the room, looking for some sign, anything to tell him that Sam had been there at least at some point during the night.

      Dark clothing was scattered all over the floor, but he couldn’t tell if any of the garments had been recently worn and discarded. His son’s entire wardrobe consisted of black T-shirts and black jeans. Luke had taken some dirty dishes out of Sam’s room the day before, and there were no recently used plates or glasses lying about to indicate he’d come back at some point during the night.

      Nothing at all to indicate Sam had been here. Luke swallowed hard.

      Did that mean he didn’t have an alibi? That maybe his son had been with the dead girl? Sam did seem to be angry, but surely not angry enough to take someone’s life.

      He desperately needed to find Sam, to question him before one of his deputies did.

      THREE

      Megan decided to eat breakfast at Rose’s Café before meeting Luke and the rest of his deputies to begin the search. She wasn’t really hungry, but her brain needed nourishment in order to remain sharp enough to find any clues as to where Liza might have been killed.

      The similarities between Liza’s death and the victims of the St. Patrick’s Strangler, as the press had dubbed Paul Sherman, bothered her. She wanted to talk to the sheriff about her suspicions, but he hadn’t been at the office when she’d stopped by on her way back to the café.

      Josie was behind the counter again. Megan ordered an omelet for breakfast and then asked Josie if she’d seen the sheriff recently.

      “He’s out back, sweetie, talking to his son.”

      “His son?” She couldn’t hide her shock. “He’s married?”

      “Widowed.” Josie grinned, enjoying the gossip. “His boy runs a little wild, though, if you know what I mean.”

      Widowed. Why the tragic news made her feel a mixture of sadness and relief she had no idea. Megan slid off her stool and walked outside, circling the corner of the diner. She stopped abruptly, remaining semi-hidden behind the Dumpster, when she caught a glimpse of Sheriff Luke Torretti facing down his son.

      “How long have you been drinking?” Luke asked in a low furious voice.

      “What do you care?” The boy was the same one she’d noticed the day before, the tall, lanky kid with the long, dark tangled hair, only today his hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail, partially hidden by the paper hat the boy wore. Dressed in scruffy jeans and a long apron tied around his narrow waist, he looked to be the café dishwasher.

      She should leave, go back inside rather than stand here eavesdropping, but investigative instincts she’d thought long dead came to life, preventing her from leaving.

      “You’re right, Sam. Why should I care? So what if you go to jail? So what if you’re convicted of strangling Liza Campbell? Why would I care about what happens to you, when you don’t?”

      The boy, Sam, blanched, and Megan thought he looked ready to throw up. Maybe it was a hangover from the drinking Luke mentioned or the blunt description of Liza’s death. “Doug will vouch for me. I slept on the floor of his bedroom.”

      “And what time was that exactly?” Luke didn’t give his son an inch. “Because from what I’m hearing, you were the last one to see her alive, and your only alibi during the time of Liza’s murder is your best friend Doug.”

      “That’s really great, Dad. Thanks a lot.” The familiar sneer was back on Sam’s face. “It’s really nice to know my own father suspects me of killing some stupid chick.”

      “Stupid chick?” Luke’s voice had gone dangerously soft. “Is that what you think of her? What’s the matter, Sam? Did she turn you down when you asked her out? Did she look down her nose at you? Make you mad? Did you have a fight? Tell me what happened between the two of you. If you come clean and tell me everything now, it will be better for you in the long run.”

      Something in Luke’s tone must have warned Sam not to push it. Instead of hiding behind sarcasm, he responded to his father’s questions. “I didn’t fight with her. I never asked her out. She wouldn’t have gone with me anyway, she’s still hung up on Sean Mathews.”

      “Is Sean her boyfriend? Was he with you guys last night?”

      Sam shook his head. “No, Sean left two weeks ago to join the army. He’s in basic training down in Kentucky somewhere. Liza was mad he broke up with her.”

      “So your story is that Zach, Doug, Teagan and Patrice left first, but you stayed behind a little while longer to talk with Liza. At midnight, you left Liza and went back to Doug’s house. There were six of you at the bonfire and you split a case of beer. After you and Doug went to his house, you sat around and finished off a bottle of Jack Daniels while playing video games.”

      “Yeah.” Sam stared down at his feet for a long minute. “That’s what happened. Liza was fine when I left.”

      “You let her go home alone?” Luke pressed.

      Sam flushed with guilt. “I offered to take her home, but she said she’d be fine. She gave me the impression she wasn’t going straight home. I figured she might be meeting someone else. None of my business what she does in her free time.”

      There