“Is that really necessary?” Ms. Carson put her hand on Jolene’s trembling shoulder. “She told you the truth. She had nothing to do with that girl’s death.”

Charlie’s ears piqued at Ms. Carson’s choice of words. Her daughter’s best friend was now “that girl.” Interesting.

“Why can’t you just do the test here?” Jolene whined. “I’ll even give you a sample of my blood.”

“Stop talking.” Ms. Carson opened her purse and pulled out a cell phone. “I’m calling my lawyer.”

Jolene stamped her foot. “I have to get my stuff—” Wilson stood in her way. “What are you doing? Move!”

“Nothing can be moved from the vehicle.” Wilson’s voice was low. He was not impressed with the teenager’s tantrum.

Tears fell over her cheeks. Were they real? During their first interview, Jolene was able to control the waterworks at the blink of an eye.

“We’ll take an inventory of the items this afternoon and call you to come pick up your belongings after that,” Sheriff Huggins said.

“What about her schoolbooks?”

“We’ll get those back to you as well. Now, let’s go inside and fill out the paperwork.” Sheriff Huggins held his hand up toward the station.

“Come on, Jolene. I can’t believe we came here to help and now we’re being treated like criminals.”

They ushered a distraught and red-faced Jolene back into the station, along with her mother who was making sure her side of the conversation with her lawyer could be heard by all.

Sheriff Huggins excused Charlie to fill out the paperwork while he handled Ms. Carson and Jolene. The gesture would’ve been appreciated more if Charlie’s mind wasn’t distracted with worry over Lane. What had her so upset outside the courthouse earlier? And the way she looked at him . . . almost mournfully. That bothered him the most. He told her she had time to think—maybe that was it? Maybe a future with him wasn’t in Lane’s future? Charlie swallowed. That wasn’t the outcome he wanted or had hoped for. But could he accept it?

Charlie stared at the mountain of paperwork stacked in front of him. It was Friday, but he knew he’d be pulling another late night. He tapped his fingers on the desk. If he hustled, he might be able to get the majority of it done and still catch Lane before she closed up after Friday Night Club. But what if he was too late? The thought sent his heart plummeting. Pushing back from his desk, he grabbed his hat. He’d stay up as late as necessary to finish the job, but right now his first priority was Lane.

SIXTEEN

LANE OPENED UP another package of buns and counted the last few patrons of the Friday Night Club who were waiting for their plates.