Layla sat across the table looking at Spenser, her teeth bared in a smug sneer wrapped in an air of superiority. It was like some switch had been flipped inside of her and suddenly, Layla looked like a killer. A woman who thought she was untouchable. A woman who not only knew she’d committed the crime that had brought her into the office to begin with but had the arrogance to believe she was going to get away with it.

“Those are just words, Sheriff. I was angry and sent them in the heat of the moment. Nothing more,” she said with a casual dismissal.

“Layla, you—”

“Can you understand what it’s like to find out somebody you’ve given your entire heart and soul to has been making a fool of you? Can you imagine what it’s like to find out the man you thought was the love of your life has been screwing half the state behind your back? Do you even know what that kind of betrayal is like, Sheriff? Have you ever suffered that kind of humiliation?”

“I don’t,” Spenser admitted. “But as bad I imagine it must be, I’d still never murder somebody over it.”

“Murder? I didn’t murder anybody.”

Spenser brought out the still photo of the figure in black slipping through the gate at Hamill’s house and set it down, tapping on it to make her point.

“This is you, Layla,” Spenser said.

Layla picked the photo up and made a point of looking at it before dropping it to the table with an expression of utter disdain on her face.

“Is it?” she asked. “I can’t see a face, so I couldn’t tell you if that’s me or not. Perhaps more importantly, you can’t tell me that it is.”

“Actually, I can. I have an eyewitness who puts you at Seth’s house when this photo was captured by Seth’s surveillance cameras.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But I come and go from his place all the time. I have my own key. So, even if this is me, and I’m not saying it is, I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for me being at Seth’s house since I’m his girlfriend and have access to his home…access given to me by Seth himself.”

Layla leaned forward, clasping her hands together on the table in front of her with that arrogant sneer still on her face.

“I’m not sure why you think I had anything to do with Seth’s death,” Layla said. “I’m heartbroken, Sheriff. I loved him. I really did.”

“You know, for a long time as I was investigating this case, I couldn’t figure something out. A few things, to be honest. But something kept bugging me and it took me a while to figure out what it was. And when that snapped into place, I was sure, without a doubt, that you killed Seth. Do you want me to tell you what that thing was?”

“I’m on tenterhooks with anticipation.”

“Well, what belatedly occurred to me was that whoever laced Seth’s steroids had to be intimately familiar with the layout of his house. The murderer had to know where he kept his steroids. Had to know about the hidden refrigerator in his studio,” Spenser said. “When that hit me, I figured it couldn’t have been any of his clients since he hid the fact that he was juicing from them. And those who did find out likely weren’t very close to him, which meant they likely couldn’t have known where he kept his stash. I doubted it was any of his music contacts, because… why? Likewise, I was sure it couldn’t have been any of the dozens of women he had an affair with. No, it had to be somebody with intimate knowledge of the man. Somebody who was closer to him than anybody.”

“That’s an interesting theory, Sheriff.”

“It’s a little more than a theory.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It is.”

“I don’t think it is. Do you know why?”

“I’m on tenterhooks with anticipation.”

The corner of Layla’s mouth flickered upward at having her words thrown back in her face. She leaned forward and held Spenser’s gaze firmly as she spoke.

“I know it’s just a theory and that you don’t have anything backing it up because I’m not in handcuffs right now,” she said coolly. “If you had anything to prove these allegations, I would be in a cell right now. But since I’m not, it’s reasonable to assume that you’re just blowing smoke.”

“That’s an interesting theory.”

“Shall we test it then?”

Layla got to her feet and looked down at Spenser with a malicious gleam in her eye. She looked like she was doing her best to keep from laughing out loud. Spenser just sat there looking at her, jaw clenched, absolutely impotent to do anything to stop the woman from leaving.

“Since you’re not making a move to cuff me, I’ll assume I’m not under arrest,” she chirped. “And since I’m not under arrest, I’m going to exercise my right to leave.”

“This isn’t over. I am coming for you,” Spenser said weakly.

“Well, you know where to find me.”

“I’ll see you soon, Layla.”

“Uh huh. I guess we’ll see if that turns out to be true,” she said blithely. “Toodles, Sheriff.”

Spenser stared straight ahead, burning a hole in the wall on the other side of the room with her eyes as Layla walked out, singing a happy, poppy song to herself as she departed. Spenser sat back in her chair and tried to silence the voices that were raging in her mind. It was the worst case scenario. This had gone off the rails and Spenser had no idea how to get it back on track. Or if she could even get it back on track after that disaster. She’d screwed up. Again.

She hated to admit it, but Layla was right. She couldn’t definitively tie her to Seth’s murder. Spenser been relying on that skittish, jumpy and nervous girl to fold under the pressure she was going to apply and give her a confession. She hadn’t anticipated the cold, calculating woman who’d parried her every thrust in such a calm, measured way. She hadn’t expected to find a predator lurking beneath the surface. Layla had played her like fiddle.

At least, now, Spenser could relate to what the woman had said about being made to feel absolutely humiliated.

“Dammit!”

With a growl that echoed around the small room, Spenser picked up the file that sat in front of her and fired it across the room, scattering the papers everywhere.

“She played me. I walked right into her trap like an idiot. Like some wet behind the ears rookie moron who had no idea what they were doing,” Spenser groused.

She and Ryker walked hand in hand through his burgeoning apple orchard as the sun slipped toward the horizon. The sky above them was aglow with fiery shades of red and orange, but to the east, the purple and dark blue hues of the encroaching night were spilling across the heavens.

“I think you’re being a little too hard on yourself,” Ryker replied softly.

“If anything, I don’t think I’m being hard enough on myself.”

The saplings had all been planted in neat, even, and orderly rows. It would be a while yet before the trees began bearing fruit, but Spenser imagined she could already smell the heady aroma of all those apples and couldn’t wait to taste the first harvest. Even more, she couldn’t wait for the first batch of cider that was going to be made in the small distillery he was building at the head of the orchard. Unfortunately for her, it was going to be a long wait for that and Spenser needed a drink or twelve sooner than later.

Annabelle walked beside Spenser, looking up at her with those big, soulful brown eyes that never failed to melt her heart and eased whatever troubles she had. Even now, though, those sweet doggy eyes only slightly dulled the sharp pain shooting through her. Mocha walked beside Ryker with a small bounce in his step, obviously wanting to engage Annabelle in a little play; however, the big Dane could always sense when Spenser was down and was always there, by her side, trying to cure what ailed her.

“You’re human, Spenser. And it’s not hard to see why you empathized with her so much,” Ryker said. “You went through a tremendous loss, like you believed she did. Of course you were going to be on her side.”

“I’m a cop, though. I should have seen through it.”

“You’re a real human with real feelings before you’re anything,” he said. “She recognized your pain and used it against you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t let myself get used like that. I can always separate the personal from the professional and don’t let what happened to me interfere with a case.”