“Grandma Graham.”
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.” He hooked one thumb into a belt loop, his tanned fingers curling negligently over his fly. “While she was telling you all this, did she mention how jealous she was?”
“Grandma? Of whom?”
“Of us. Junior and me.”
“She told me the two of you and Celina were like the three musketeers.”
“And she resented it. Did she tell you how she doted on Celina?”
She hadn’t had to. The modest house Alex had grown up in had been a veritable shrine to her late mother. Noting her frown, the sheriff answered his own question. “No, I can see that Mrs. Graham failed to mention all that.”
“You think I’m here on a personal vendetta.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well, I’m not,” Alex said defensively. “I believe there are enough holes in this case to warrant reinvestigation. So does District Attorney Harper.”
“That egomaniac?” he snorted contemptuously. “He’d indict his own mother for selling it on street corners if it would move him any closer to the attorney general’s office.”
Alex knew his comment was partially true. She tried another tack. “When Mr. Chastain is better acquainted with the facts, he’ll agree that there’s been a gross miscarriage of justice.”
“Pat had never even heard of Celina until yesterday. He’s got his hands full chasing down wetbacks and drug dealers.”
“Do you blame me for wanting justice? If your mother had been stabbed to death in a horse barn, wouldn’t you do everything possible to see that her killer was punished?”
“I don’t know. My old lady split before I was old enough to remember her.”
Alex felt a pang of empathy for him that she knew she couldn’t afford. No wonder the pictures she’d seen of Reede had been of a very intense lad with eyes much older than his years. She’d never thought to ask her grandmother why he looked so serious.
“This is an untenable situation, Mr. Lambert. You are a suspect.” She stood up and retrieved her purse. “Thank you for the coffee. I’m sorry to have bothered you so early in the morning. From now on, I’ll have to rely on the local police department for assistance.”
“Wait a minute.”
Alex, already making her way toward the door, stopped and turned. “What?”
“There is no police department.”
Dismayed by that piece of information, she watched as he reached for his hat and coat. He stepped around her, pulled open the door for her, then followed her out.
“Hey, Sam, I’m leaving. I’ll be across the street.” The deputy nodded. “This way,” Reede said, taking Alex’s elbow and guiding her toward a small, square elevator at the end of the hall.
They got into it together. The door creaked when he pulled it closed. The sound of grinding gears wasn’t very reassuring. Alex hoped it would make the trip.
She tried to help it along by concentrating hard on their ascent. All the same, she was fully aware of Reede Lambert standing so close to her that their clothing touched. He was studying her.
He said, “You resemble Celina.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Your size, your mannerisms. Your hair’s darker, though, and it has more red in it. Her eyes were brown, not blue like yours.” His gaze moved over her face. “But there’s a striking resemblance.”
“Thank you. I think my mother was beautiful.”
“Everybody thought so.”
“Including you?”