Silent Night Suspect. Sharee Stover

parents’. Asia concentrated on the sheet until it blurred as she tried to silence the condemning mantra. If only I hadn’t been so selfish, they wouldn’t be dead.

      Zander’s outward charismatic personality and intimate neediness had compelled her to follow him to the University of Nebraska in Lincoln. Mom’s and Daddy’s quiet natures and gentle understanding provided all the approval Asia needed. They promised to visit often and had kept that promise, even when blizzard warnings covered every news channel that lethal night. Daddy had assured Asia the storm wouldn’t be an issue, but they’d never anticipated the wrecked semi jackknifed across the highway. Invisible arrows penetrated her heart with each agonizing image.

      “I wasn’t sure if you had a friend or someone you’d like to notify,” Slade clarified, invading her misery.

      She turned away. “There’s no one.” The bitter words stung her throat. “Not that you’d ever understand being alone.” Asia didn’t meet Slade’s eyes. Couldn’t. His family—a raucous, close-knit group where love and laughter enveloped everyone in a ten-mile radius—had been her second home. A family she’d betrayed for Zander.

      The memories increased the burn in her chest and hollow ache in her heart. She and Zander had always been a volatile combination. Her nurturing instincts combined with his lack of family—thanks to his mother’s drug overdose—entangled them in an isolating solace of false peace. Zander’s eventual emotional and physical abandonment left Asia more alone than she’d ever thought possible. Only superficial work relationships existed for her.

      Work. One more consideration. Asia studied her fingernails. “I returned to the salon two weeks ago, and I have no vacation time. They’ll fire me.” She turned to Slade. “Unless...”

      “Unless?”

      “Do you think I’ll be able to go home by tomorrow morning?” It was stupid to even hope for such a thing, and the doubt in Slade’s eyes spoke his answer. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled.

      “Don’t want you losing your job.”

      “Yeah, well, one missed paycheck won’t change my meager lifestyle,” she said, miffed that she’d revealed too much. A prison sentence would eliminate the need for employment, anyway.

      Slade appeared taken aback. “Are you having financial troubles? I assumed Zander’s insurance—”

      “Not that it’s any of your business.” Asia drilled him with her best you-asked-for-it scowl. “But I never received any money. Turns out, they withhold life-insurance benefits when there’s an ongoing investigation.” Slade’s invasive comment meant he was digging. The department mandated every trooper carry life insurance of at least two times their salary.

      He grimaced and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...but you had the house? Equity after the sale?”

      She shook her head. “The bank foreclosed on our house when I failed to pay the second mortgage Zander forged in my name. Of course, that was right after he’d cleaned out our savings.” Why was she confessing her financial woes to him? It was none of Slade’s concern, and the EMT looked like he wanted to crawl under her stretcher and hide.

      “Zander’s path of destruction had no boundaries,” Slade murmured.

      Asia started to defend her deceased husband but lost the energy to follow through. She reached up and gently touched the tender spot on her head, allowing her fingers to graze the hard, crusty sections of her hair where blood had coagulated. Another unknown, though surely in her favor. She couldn’t have inflicted the injury to herself.

      Slade leaned closer. “I wasn’t aware things were so difficult. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve helped you.”

      She crossed her arms, blinked and tilted her head. “Why would I run to you?”

      The words were harsh, but Slade’s nonchalant manner surprised her. “To be honest, my thoughts exactly. You’ve never asked for my help. Which made your text tonight even more baffling.”

      So we’re back to quizzing me. “Someone else sent that message. Find my phone and I’ll prove it.” Her voice sounded far more confident than the fear swarming her heart. The more disturbing question was, how had the killer connected her and Slade? They hadn’t talked since the funeral, and even that had been strained.

      She considered him. After all they’d been through this evening, he’d maintained his perfectly put-together self. Examining her blouse and pants, she grimaced. I, on the other hand, resemble a demolition-derby car.

      Slade pulled out his notepad and wrote something down.

      “What did the message say?”

      “Hmm?” He glanced up from his note taking.

      “The text you’re accusing me of sending. What did it say?” she repeated.

      Slade withdrew his cell phone, scrolled through his messages and passed the device to her. Asia’s name and number appeared in the contact area along with her picture. A print screen showed a map and one word—Help.

      She studied the words and image, using her fingers to zoom in closer. “Is this where we were?”

      He quirked an eyebrow. “Yes.”

      She handed him the phone. “I never sent the message, and I don’t recognize the address.”

      He dismissed her by slipping the device into his belt clip. “For the record, you could’ve asked for my help.”

      An unladylike snort escaped, and she shifted her gaze.

      “I didn’t want to report Zander. It was—”

      Asia jerked to face him, and the headache gained new rhythm behind her eyeballs. “What, Slade?” She cut him off. “The right thing to do?”

      Tension covered his expression, and his posture stiffened. Satisfaction at silencing him reminded her of their disconnected relationship. He wasn’t her friend. He’d lost that privilege a long time ago, and she’d never give him the chance to hurt her again.

      Slade palmed the notepad. “I realize you weren’t able to see them from your vantage point, but did you recognize either of those men? Their voices?”

      Without hesitation, Asia responded with an emphatic head shake. “Not at all.”

      “What do you know about the deceased?” Slade refrained from using Quenten’s name. Did he not trust the EMT? Or was he testing her?

      “Limited comments from Zander, but nothing of significance.” Her mind raced, and questions tumbled out fast, crashing over one another. “Why would a guy like him come after me? Why are those men looking for me? What do they want?”

      Slade worked his jaw and gave a slight shake of his head. This wasn’t the place to discuss Nevil Quenten or Zander. Not to mention, something about his mannerisms suggested he didn’t believe her. The darkened expression on his rugged face sent a tremor of worry through Asia. Was she becoming paranoid in her efforts to prove her innocence?

      “We’ll figure this out.”

      His calm manner should have been comforting. Instead, it irked her. Did he not comprehend the problem? The danger she faced? Or did he not care?

      “If they’re searching for me, they’ll find me. Why was I there with that—that—criminal?” Asia spit the last word, then continued, “How did they know I was there? Where have I been? How did I get there?” Frustration made her ramble, leaving no opening for Slade to respond. “What is going on?”

      The walls of the ambulance closed in, reminding Asia she was a prisoner with the ever-watchful Slade. He’d never let her out of his sight, yet the sudden urge to jump up and thrust open the doors tempted her. Common sense revealed the impossibility of the option—it was something out of an action movie, not real-life drama.

      Her