Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (books on motivation .txt) 📗

a manager who can tell you the same. I haven’t been back to Dead Woman Crossing since last Christmas.”

Kimberley nodded. “Alright. I’ll be sure to confirm your alibi.”

“Seriously though. Why would you think I had anything to do with it?”

“I didn’t say you did, but nearly ninety percent of murders are committed by friends, loved ones, or acquaintances. Since you’re Isobel’s father and a former loved one, you fall into that category. We’re just covering our bases,” Kimberley explained.

“Wait. Did you say Isobel’s father? I’m not Isobel’s father.”

Kimberley’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not her father.”

“I know you’re not involved in Isobel’s life, but you’re still her father.”

Sam shook his head.

“I don’t think you understand. Biologically, I am not her father. I traveled a lot for work, and when Hannah got pregnant, the dates didn’t line up. Plus, Isobel looks nothing like me. It’s why we broke up,” he explained.

“Are you sure about this?” Kimberley lowered her chin slightly, realizing if it was true, it was huge for the case.

“One hundred percent.”

“Would you be willing to submit to a DNA test?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have to get Lisa to consent, but I’m sure I can convince her.”

“Good. I don’t want people thinking I’m some sort of deadbeat dad. If Isobel was mine, I’d be there for her. But she’s not,” Tyler said, his voicing cracking at the end.

Kimberley didn’t know him, but she could tell there was a deep sadness there. This man wanted to be Isobel’s dad and was most likely devastated when he found out he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry to ask this, Tyler. But do you know who Isobel’s father is?” Kimberley said the words slowly and carefully.

There was silence.

“Tyler?”

“No, I don’t. She never told me.”

“I’ll have one of my deputies reach out to you regarding next steps for the paternity test. You’ll be able to do it locally and we’ll have the results sent to us. I appreciate your cooperation. Take care, Tyler,” Kimberley said, ending the call and setting the phone down on the table.

“He says he’s not the father.” She looked at Sam with wide eyes.

“Do you believe him?”

“I do. He’s agreed to a paternity test too.”

Sam leaned back in his seat, glancing out the window beside him, taking in the view while he took in the new information. A nearly empty gravel parking lot edged out to the road. Beyond into the Oklahoma plains, the wind continued on, shifting everything little by little.

“If he’s not the father, there’s someone out there that is. Someone with motive,” Kimberley said, her eyes scanned Sam’s face.

Sam nodded.

“It was well known that Isobel’s father was a man who left town—Tyler. Whoever the father really is clearly didn’t want people to know.”

“Why do you think that is?” Sam turned his head, his eyes connected with Kimberley’s.

“Maybe he’s married.”

“Maybe. But you’re right about one thing for sure.”

“About what?” Kimberley asked.

“We have to find out who Hannah Brown was. She’s the key to finding who murdered her.”

29

“Alright, I’m gonna leave you to it, Detective,” Sam said to Kimberley as they exited the local diner.

Kimberley gave Sam a peculiar look. “What do you mean leave me to it?”

“All those things you said you wanted to do, I want you to do them. Reinterview her co-workers, Hannah’s mom, and the daycare teacher. You got this.”

“And what are you going to do?” Kimberley lifted her chin.

“Well, since I’m an elected official, I get to do some of the fun stuff,” he said sarcastically. “We’ve got press clamoring for details, locally and from some of the surrounding areas, so I’ve gotta hold a public information session. And since it’s getting picked up, I’ve got to attend the county board meeting to ask for and justify some overtime pay. All the fun stuff.” He sighed dramatically. “Unless you’d like to act on my behalf?”

Kimberley shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“I thought you’d say that. Pharmacy is down the street. I’ll have one of the deputies drop your vehicle off and work with you on the interviews.”

“I prefer to work alone.”

“Ouch.” Sam grabbed his chest dramatically.

Kimberley put her hand on her hip. “Oh, not you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sam waved a hand. “Regardless, I’ll have your vehicle dropped off. We’ll reconvene in the morning. If you have anything pressing though, give me a ring right away.”

Chief Deputy King nodded. “You got it.”

Sam tipped his head and walked to his vehicle. His eyes meeting hers again as he backed out of his spot. He gave a friendly wave as he drove off. Kimberley looked down the street lined with small businesses, no more than ten of them. It was the equivalent of a downtown, but judging by how barren it was, it sure put the “Dead” in Dead Woman Crossing.

Chief Deputy King walked down the sidewalk, passing by a hair salon big enough to take two clients at a time. There was a small coffee shop—just one, not like New York City where a Starbucks sat on every block, sometimes across the street from one another. She walked past a laundromat and a convenience store. All the essentials of a small American town, nothing more—no frills, just the basics. Beside the convenience store was the pharmacy.

She noted the hours that hung on the sign hanging from the glass door. “Open Monday–Saturday, 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Sundays, Closed.” A bunch of local postings were stuck on the inside of the storefront window, including a poster for the Turner Farm with information on purchasing wheat and vegetables. At the bottom was Wyatt’s contact information. Kimberley entered the small store that had several aisles stocked with a variety of medications, covering everything from heartburn to the flu. At the back wall was a pharmacist’s window and at the front a cash register with a woman leaning against the counter filing her nails. The only reason Kimberley knew she worked there was from the name tag pinned to her cotton shirt that read “Michelle.” When she noticed Kimberley, the girl stood up straight and