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a few people on the paths, but I'm not sure if they saw me."

"Shame for you. What time did you get back to your parents' house?"

"I left the reservoir when the sun got too low. I guess a little before dusk? Maybe around six thirty or seven?"

"The call to the police didn't come in until after dark. At least an hour later." His eyes narrowed again. I didn't hear a question, so I remained silent.

"Answer the question, Ms. Lightwood."

"What question?" I asked.

"Are you getting belligerent with the chief of police?" he asked, incredulous.

I was about to tell him that his title alone didn't guarantee him respect; he had to earn it, when the door opened behind him. Detective Spaulding stood there looking from the chief to me and back again.

"I thought we were going to wait to bring her in?" he said to Chief Duncan.

"An opportunity arose," the chief said. I snorted.

"Alex, you aren't under arrest," Detective Spaulding explained.

"I know," I confirmed. "I was just saying my farewells. I gave Chief Duncan my timeline the day of the murder. Again."

"She confirmed the fight at the salon," Chief Duncan spluttered.

"We didn't fight. She insulted me; I told her to keep my name out of her mouth. The whole thing lasted less than a minute. Apparently lots of people exchange catty words with Missy on a daily basis. I'm not special in that regard," I said. I kept my eyes on Detective Spaulding.

"She had ample access to the salon scissors. And she has no alibi for the time of death," Chief Duncan explained.

My mouth dropped open. So that was his reason for hauling me in here for questioning. Missy must have been murdered about the time I was in the woods. Alone. The color drained from my face; my bones turned to ice. I flicked my eyes to the open manila folder to see if I could read the paper Chief Duncan seemed so interested in earlier. Beside TOD, the medical examiner had written "2pm-6pm."

The chief saw me looking at the paper and slammed the folder shut before I could see anything else.

I looked at Detective Spaulding. "You could narrow down that time even more if you look at the metadata on the photo I took."

"Metadata?" he asked, coming farther into the room.

"Yeah. I connect my camera to GPS tracking so I always know exactly where and when the photos were taken. It's essential in photojournalism. I never changed the settings. Pull up the picture on any gallery app and look at the file info. That will narrow that timeline."

"Thank you, Alex. We'll do that. Did you happen to see anyone else in the woods when you were there?" he asked.

Chief Duncan had asked the same thing, but their tones were so vastly different. Chief Duncan made it seem like I needed witnesses to confirm my location. Detective Spaulding's tone suggested I could help them catch who really killed Missy.

"Yes," I answered. I described the man with the book, the boy and his dog, and the running girl. Detective Spaulding looked disappointed when I finished. I couldn't blame him: none of those people fit the descriptions of anyone on my suspect list either.

"Thank you for your time, Alex. We'll be in touch," Detective Spaulding said.

"I'm not done asking questions yet," Chief Duncan said, rising from his chair when I did. "She admitted to having a long-lasting feud with the victim. I want to know more about that."

"I absolutely did not say anything about a 'long-lasting feud.' You can listen to the tape to confirm," I said defiantly. I popped my hands on my hips, an old habit to make me appear larger, and started to stomp out of the room. Chief Duncan made a move to stop me, but Detective Spaulding stepped between us. I sidestepped my way out of the cramped room.

"Alex," Detective Spaulding called.

I turned to face him, glad the chief wasn't in my eyeline.

"I'm sorry for this." His eyes were soft and sincere. "It shouldn't have happened."

"Thanks. But I will be going through my lawyer from now on."

"Understandable. I'll listen to the tape too. I'm sorry, Alex," he repeated. I realized he was back to calling me Alex. I guess I was off his list again. A small consolation.

On my way by Chief Duncan's office, I saw Kelly sitting on the edge of the visitor's chair. She chewed a fingernail while her eyes darted around the space like a trapped animal looking for escape. I felt a twinge of sympathy for her.

Detective Spaulding and Chief Duncan's heated words followed me down the hallway and into the lobby. I drew up short when I saw Linc sitting there.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked.

He scowled at me. "Waiting for you. I figured you'd need a ride."

"Thank you. I was going to call my dad," I said, holding up my phone.

"Well, I'm already here." He rose from the chair and walked out the door. I had no choice but to follow. As we rode in awkward silence back to my loft, I texted my family to tell them they didn't need to bail me out of jail.

I replayed the interrogation over in my mind. Had I said anything incriminating? Would my words be used against me in court? I tried to remember, but emotion clouded my memory. Maybe I could request a copy of the tape. Maybe the tape would be played during the Dateline episode about my life and crimes. Maybe Chief Duncan would plant my fingerprints somewhere. Great. Then I'd be the crazy one screaming about being framed by the police. I dropped my head in my hands and took a deep breath.

"Hey," Linc said softly, turning down the radio. "You okay?"

I lifted my head to look at his

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