Watch Me Die by Erica Spindler Page A

And judging by Bayle’s vibe, she did, too. “Connor Scott?” Malone asked.
    “That’s me.”
    Malone held up his shield. “Detectives Spencer Malone and Karin—”
    “Bayle,” Scott said, glancing at her.
    Malone looked at his partner in surprise. “You two know each other?”
    “A friend of a friend,” Connor answered, “years ago. How’re you doing, Karin?”
    “Good. You?”
    “Very well, thanks.”
    Buried under the polite exchange was a layer of intense emotion. What kind, Malone wasn’t certain. But he intended to find out. He tucked the question away for later.
    Scott turned back to him. “How can I help you this morning?”
    Malone noticed that his eyes were a striking color, an odd cross between light green and gray. “We’ve come about one of your friends. Mira Gallier.”
    Alarm shot into those eyes. “Is she all right?”
    “She’s fine. May we come in?”
    “Sure.” He swung the door wider and stepped aside.
    Malone quickly took in the grand foyer. Marble floors. Sparkling chandelier. Antique table at its center, set with a huge spray of fresh flowers. Reminded him of a hotel.
    “Nice place,” he said.
    “My parents’. I’m staying here until I get settled.”
    “You’ve been away?”
    “Just finished my tour of duty in Iraq and then Afghanistan. I’ve only been home a few days.”
    “What branch of the service?” Malone asked.
    “Marines.”
    He nodded. Scott was clearly strong enough to have taken out Preacher; as a marine, he would have been trained in how to do it.
    “Thank you for your service. It is appreciated, no matter which way public opinion is blowing.”
    He smiled slightly. “Thank you for yours.”
    Bayle spoke up. “Where were you last night, Mr. Scott?”
    “Considering the reason for your visit, I think you already know. I had dinner with Mira Gallier.”
    “Where?” Malone asked.
    “Her place.”
    “What is your relationship?”
    He stiffened. “We’re friends. Old friends.”
    “What time did you arrive?”
    “Six thirty.”
    “And leave?”
    “Ten, ten thirty.”
    “Are you certain of the time?”
    “Yes.” He frowned. “Why is this important?”
    “Just crossing our t’s and dotting our i’s, that’s all.”
    The man knew it was bullshit, so Malone added, “There was a break-in at Ms. Gallier’s last night. Just following up.”
    “A break-in?” His surprise seemed genuine. “But she’s okay?”
    “I spoke with her this morning and she seemed fine. What did you do after you left Ms. Gallier’s?”
    “Came here. Watched TV for a while, then went to bed.”
    “Anybody else here?”
    “No.” He cocked his head. “This is a lot of questions for just following up on a break-in.”
    “You know cops.”
    “Actually, no, I don’t know cops.”
    His tone made it clear he was on to the fact there was more going on than a break-in and that he had answered his last question.
    They thanked him and returned to the car. Malone looked at his partner. “When I said who we were going to interview, why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
    “I didn’t recognize the name.” She fastened her seat belt. “Literally, we met once or twice. Hello, goodbye, that’s it.”
    Spencer started the car. “And how did you know him?”
    “He told you, a friend of a friend.”
    “That’s bullshit, Bayle.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “What I picked up between you two was too strong for that explanation to be anything but. Were you involved with him?”
    “No. Not that it’s any of your damn business.”
    “Who was the friend?”
    “Why the interrogation?”
    “Who was the friend?” he asked again.
    “Someone I dated.” He waited and she sighed heavily. “Okay, someone I was in love with. He didn’t feel the same way about me and it ended badly.”
    “And Scott?”
    “Was a part of it. They worked together. Okay? If I never saw him again, it would be too soon.”
    Which explained the weird vibes from both of them . He nodded, then