her head and took the seat to Claire’s right and signaled for Max to take the other.
“Ms. Freemont, are you really going to let some teenager be your first line of defense?” Sam asked. He was holding a pencil in his hand, and he tapped the eraser against the top of the table.
“Yes,” she said. She gave Max a fond smile. “It’s really nice of you to be here. Thank you, Max.”
Max’s face flushed red, and he glanced down at his beat-up Converse sneakers. “Have they questioned you at all?”
“No, I told them I wanted my attorney present,” Claire said. “Are you sure you’re willing to represent me, Max?”
“Absolutely,” he said. His voice cracked again, and Maggie fervently hoped that this thing went no further. She could not imagine Max in a trial situation. Yes, his mind was brilliant, but what would a jury make of him? She didn’t want to know.
“Fine, then, your attorney can be present, but not her,” Sam said. He took the seat across the table from them and pointed his pencil at Maggie.
Maggie opened her mouth to argue, but Max held up his hand. “It’s fine, Maggie, I’ve got it.”
“You’ve got it?” she asked. She looked at him like he’d recently fallen off his skateboard and sustained a head injury.
“Yeah,” he said, and he tipped his head to the door. He leaned behind Claire and motioned for Maggie to do the same. In a low voice, he said, “You and Sheriff Collins don’t get along. You’ll only antagonize him if you stay, which will not help Claire at all.”
“Are you kicking me out?” she asked.
“Yes,” Max said. His tone made it clear that he thought he couldn’t be any more obvious.
“I’m just going to ask Ms. Freemont some questions,” Sam said. “I’m not arresting her. You don’t need to be here.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes at him, and then she put her hand on Claire’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay?”
Claire nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be right outside,” Maggie said. She gave Sam one more glower, and then she turned and left the room.
Out in the hall, the police station was abuzz. Several reporters were cooling their heels, texting away on their smartphones, while waiting to interview the sheriff. Several deputies manned the front desk, and the station hummed with the frenetic energy of something really bad happening that they were all still trying to process.
St. Stanley was a sleepy little town tucked away in the rolling hills of southern Virginia, about an hour west of the ocean. Not much happened in the pleasant little burg to cause such a stir—certainly not murder.
Maggie wondered how the questioning was going. She wondered if she’d be able to hear if she put her ear to the door, but then she knew Sam would probably catch her, and that wouldn’t go well for any of them.
She took a seat on a hard wooden bench that did not invite lingering and resigned herself to wait. She needed to give Max a ride back to the ice cream stand, and she didn’t want Claire to be alone after such an ordeal.
Her mind drifted back to the body in the library basement. Where was he now? Had the state’s crime scene investigators taken him for an autopsy? Surely, no one in St. Stanley was qualified to deal with a man found stabbed.
Maggie felt herself suddenly sit up straighter. The knife sticking out of the man’s chest, she could see it in her mind. It had been a cake knife. Claire had arrived at her house yesterday looking harried, and she said she had forgotten her cake knife. Had the one protruding from the man’s chest been Claire’s?
Maggie glanced warily from side to side as if someone might have overheard her thoughts. The knife wasn’tClaire’s. She was sure of that…Well, even if it
was
Claire’s, she was sure that Claire had not been the one to shove it into the man’s chest.
She took her phone out of her purse and dialed Ginger’s number. Ginger answered on the third ring.
“Lancaster Accounting, how can I
“Ms. Freemont, are you really going to let some teenager be your first line of defense?” Sam asked. He was holding a pencil in his hand, and he tapped the eraser against the top of the table.
“Yes,” she said. She gave Max a fond smile. “It’s really nice of you to be here. Thank you, Max.”
Max’s face flushed red, and he glanced down at his beat-up Converse sneakers. “Have they questioned you at all?”
“No, I told them I wanted my attorney present,” Claire said. “Are you sure you’re willing to represent me, Max?”
“Absolutely,” he said. His voice cracked again, and Maggie fervently hoped that this thing went no further. She could not imagine Max in a trial situation. Yes, his mind was brilliant, but what would a jury make of him? She didn’t want to know.
“Fine, then, your attorney can be present, but not her,” Sam said. He took the seat across the table from them and pointed his pencil at Maggie.
Maggie opened her mouth to argue, but Max held up his hand. “It’s fine, Maggie, I’ve got it.”
“You’ve got it?” she asked. She looked at him like he’d recently fallen off his skateboard and sustained a head injury.
“Yeah,” he said, and he tipped his head to the door. He leaned behind Claire and motioned for Maggie to do the same. In a low voice, he said, “You and Sheriff Collins don’t get along. You’ll only antagonize him if you stay, which will not help Claire at all.”
“Are you kicking me out?” she asked.
“Yes,” Max said. His tone made it clear that he thought he couldn’t be any more obvious.
“I’m just going to ask Ms. Freemont some questions,” Sam said. “I’m not arresting her. You don’t need to be here.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes at him, and then she put her hand on Claire’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay?”
Claire nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be right outside,” Maggie said. She gave Sam one more glower, and then she turned and left the room.
Out in the hall, the police station was abuzz. Several reporters were cooling their heels, texting away on their smartphones, while waiting to interview the sheriff. Several deputies manned the front desk, and the station hummed with the frenetic energy of something really bad happening that they were all still trying to process.
St. Stanley was a sleepy little town tucked away in the rolling hills of southern Virginia, about an hour west of the ocean. Not much happened in the pleasant little burg to cause such a stir—certainly not murder.
Maggie wondered how the questioning was going. She wondered if she’d be able to hear if she put her ear to the door, but then she knew Sam would probably catch her, and that wouldn’t go well for any of them.
She took a seat on a hard wooden bench that did not invite lingering and resigned herself to wait. She needed to give Max a ride back to the ice cream stand, and she didn’t want Claire to be alone after such an ordeal.
Her mind drifted back to the body in the library basement. Where was he now? Had the state’s crime scene investigators taken him for an autopsy? Surely, no one in St. Stanley was qualified to deal with a man found stabbed.
Maggie felt herself suddenly sit up straighter. The knife sticking out of the man’s chest, she could see it in her mind. It had been a cake knife. Claire had arrived at her house yesterday looking harried, and she said she had forgotten her cake knife. Had the one protruding from the man’s chest been Claire’s?
Maggie glanced warily from side to side as if someone might have overheard her thoughts. The knife wasn’tClaire’s. She was sure of that…Well, even if it
was
Claire’s, she was sure that Claire had not been the one to shove it into the man’s chest.
She took her phone out of her purse and dialed Ginger’s number. Ginger answered on the third ring.
“Lancaster Accounting, how can I
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