Promise Her by Mitzi Pool Bridges

prints on it. Even worse, they found a bottle of poison in her car,” Douglas offered.
    “Circumstantial and easily explained” Max said. “Where is this Detective John Ryan? Why isn’t he here to interrogate Lisa if she’s under suspicion?”
    Douglas shrugged. “On his way.”
    Max balled up a fist. “What am I supposed to tell Taralyn? I refuse to have her upset now.”
    “Take it easy, Max,” Douglas urged, as Detective Ryan approached them, followed by the two officers who had arrested Lisa.
    “We’re ready to interrogate Ms. Kane now,” Detective Ryan said.
    Darin and Douglas exchanged glances with Max.
    “It’ll be all right,” Douglas said. “I’ll be with her every second.”
    “I’m coming with you,” Max insisted.
    Max was already headed to the interrogation room.
    “Sorry,” Detective Ryan informed him. “You can wait in here.” He opened a door to a small waiting room.
    Max’s lips pressed into a grim line, his eyes narrowed. As a former FBI agent he wasn’t used to being told no. Max was protective of his own, whether it was family or employee. Lisa was both. Darin, being a cop, had clearly thought he’d be allowed in. Both were mistaken.
    “Maybe they’ll let you watch,” Douglas suggested.
    Max’s eyes narrowed a bit further. The detective remained adamant.
    “I expect you to bring her with you when you come out of there, Callahan. You hear me?” Max growled a parting shot.
    “I’ll be here if you need me,” Darin said, giving the two cops a narrow look.
    When Douglas walked in a minute later with the detectives, Lisa’s gaze lifted to him. He couldn’t help but admire her poise. He’d seen many in similar circumstance. Few looked as composed as she did. But she couldn’t hide the concern and questions in her eyes.
    “Let’s get right to it,” Detective Ryan began as he clicked on the video.
    After Detective Hart read Lisa her rights, Douglas sat beside her. “If I tell you not to answer a question, Lisa, don’t.”
    She nodded. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” she began, as she looked at the detectives. “Tempest—”
    “Don’t say anything until they ask a question, Lisa,” Douglas interrupted.
    Lisa clamped her mouth shut. The cops looked at her with cold, hard eyes that told her they had their own agenda.
    They started with the usual. Name, address, etc. They soon got serious. “How long have you known the Wheatleys?”
    “I’ve known them by reputation for years, but just recently met them.”
    “You were investigating Mr. Wheatley?”
    “AAF, the company I work for, is handling the investigation. I was part of it.”
    “What did you find?”
    She shrugged.
    “Which means?”
    “I told you this the first time I came in here, Detective Ryan. So far, we’ve found nothing to indicate either infidelity or theft.”
    “Did your investigation lead you to find evidence that Harold Wheatley planned to poison his wife?”
    “The night Tempest fell from her horse, I saw Harold in the president’s skybox. He was nervous and upset. He had all the tells of guilt, but no, we have no proof. Yet.” She was sick and tired of telling them the same thing over and over when they could clearly see that Harold had motive and opportunity. A shiver ran up her spine.
    “Did you put something in Ms. Wheatley’s glass while she was at your table in the skybox?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    “Your fingerprints are on the glass.”
    She looked to Douglas who nodded. “Tempest was acting strange. I checked the glass after she left to see if there was alcohol in it. Her act is dangerous enough sober.”
    “A bottle of chlordane was found in your car. The same poison that killed Ms. Wheatley.”
    “Chlordane? My car! Are you crazy? I’ve never heard of that stuff. I don’t even know what it is.” Her heart pounded an uneven rhythm in her chest. She put a hand across hr chest as if to slow it down.
    “Then how did it get there?”
    “Where,