Crap. What have I done? I tried to look Jackson Abernathy in the eyes, but I struggled to look away from the knife. “Mayor Abernathy, what are you doing?”
“I’m making sure that you don’t ruin everything I’ve built up. Now, who were you talking to? Who told you that I’d been dishonorably discharged?”
“I don’t know what—”
“Don’t lie to me! I heard you.”
“I wasn’t talking about you. I was just talking to my dad. He’s in the Navy. He was telling me about someone I knew. That’s all.”
He hesitated and squinted. “Who?”
“You wouldn’t know him. Just a sailor I used to date. Lieutenant Commander Riker.”
“Riker? That’s not a real person. You got that from Star Wars.”
Actually, I got it from Star Trek: The Next Generation, but now is not the time to quibble. “Lieutenant Commander Andrew Riker. We dated for almost a year before I met Elliott.” I had dated a sailor named Andrew, so I was able to talk with confidence that I didn’t feel. And I needed to keep talking. “Drew and I were pretty serious at one time. That’s why my dad was telling me about him. Apparently, he was dismissed from the Navy, which is the same as a dishonorable discharge for an enlisted man, but since he was a commissioned officer, he was merely dismissed.”
“What did your boyfriend do?”
“Murder. He killed someone.” I racked my brain to remember any cases of someone being dismissed and lit on one. “He got married a couple of months after we broke up. I’m sure they were dating while we were together, but given what happened, well, I’m glad he wasn’t faithful. Anyway, he caught his wife with another man and shot him. My dad said—”
“I don’t care what your dad said.”
“Sorry, I thought you wanted to know what happened.”
“I don’t believe you. I think you asked your father to investigate me. That’s what I think. I think your dad found out that I was dishonorably discharged from the Army for leaking secrets to a Russian spy.”
I shook my head. “I had no idea.” I worked to make my voice sound as sincere as I could. “My dad didn’t mention anything about Russian spies. How interesting. I’ve never met a spy before. Was it like in the movies? I mean, was it all cloak and dagger? James Bond? Did they pay you a lot of money? Or did you do it for ideological reasons? Honestly, I—”
“Shut up.”
“Sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous. Looking at that knife makes me very nervous. Perhaps you’d consider putting it away. I mean, I’m sure we could come to an agreement. After all, I don’t think Trooper Bob has a clue that you killed Clayton Davenport and Sybil Castleton. He thinks it was Carla Lattimore. He’s—”
“He knows about Carla?”
Oops. I’ve been oversharing again. “Well, I went by earlier and told him about the conversation I had with her before she skipped town and—”
“Whatdya mean, skipped town?”
“Well, when he sent a patrol car to pick her up, she was gone, so I guessed she skipped town. I suppose she could have just gone to the store.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I need to think.”
“Maybe you could just slip out of town too—”
“I’m the mayor! I can’t just slip out of town.”
“Why not? No one knows anything about the treason with Anna Chapman. You could—”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about it?”
“I don’t.”
“Then how’d you know Anna Chapman was the name of the spy?”
Crap. “Lucky guess. I mean she was famous. So, when you said you gave secrets to the Russians, I just assumed it would be someone like Anna Chapman. She’s legendary, but my dad never mentioned names. I just guessed. I—”
“Shut up. You’re a horrible liar.”
“They don’t know you murdered Clayton Davenport and Sybil Castleton. So, if you were to leave town, the police would have no reason to keep looking for you.”
“I don’t care about the police. The police are the least of my worries.”
“Well, you could just go and—”
“Shut up.”
I shut up.
Outside, I could hear Baby barking along with a pounding noise that sounded like he was hammering against the car in an attempt to get out. I cringed at the thought of the damage. I took another look at the knife that Abernathy was wielding, and I didn’t care if Baby ripped that car apart like a can opener tearing into a can of peas.
“I can’t think with all that noise. You need to shut that mutt up. He’s going to have the whole neighborhood here.”
“Sure thing.” I turned and headed for the door, but Abernathy wasn’t having it.
“No, you don’t.” He moved in between me and the door, my only means of escape. “You stay right there.”
My eyes darted around the renovated and empty kitchen. Nothing. A box on the floor that we’d packed up held a skillet and some pots, but the knives were on the other side of the room, and there was no way I could get to them without Abernathy tackling me first.
“I should have drowned that mutt when he was born instead of just tossing him in Lake Michigan.”
