St. Louis had never been her first choice as a home base, but you went where the job openings were. With all the experience she’d gained here, however, she could ditch this town in a heartbeat. It wasn’t the best market for journalists anyway. Only her promising affiliation with Doug had kept her here.

But there were glitzier cities where she could thrive, bigger fish to cozy up to who could help boost her career to the next level. And her resume was going to be crossing their desks within forty-eight hours. She didn’t need Doug Whitney to pave the way, or Eve Reilly’s slot to open up, in order to get her chance.

All she needed was the right connection—and somewhere out there, he was waiting to fall under Carolyn Matthews’s spell.

The detective was here.

Meg scrambled to her feet as Brent Lange, accompanied by the colleague who’d come with him to their house, entered Steve’s hospital room. A shaft of midmorning light peeking through the canted blinds whited out her vision, and she shaded her eyes.

“Good morning.” After directing that greeting toward her, Detective Lange transferred his attention to her husband, who was propped up with several pillows while his cast-enclosed left ankle rested on another pillow, a white bandage covering the gash on his forehead.

Steve glowered at him. “What do you want now?”

“We have a few more questions.”

“I don’t feel like answering them.”

“Nevertheless, we intend to ask them. We can do that here, this morning—or we can reconvene at the station after you’re released this afternoon.”

“I’m not talking to you again until I get an attorney. This is harassment.”

“Questioning a suspect isn’t harassment.”

“So now I’m a suspect?”

“You’ve been one all along. The difference today is that we have a witness who saw you leave the package at Eve Reilly’s house—and a warrant for your arrest is in process.”

Meg’s stomach dropped to her toes. So much for all her prayers last night that the allegations about Steve were wrong.

Her husband’s complexion grew more pasty. “You’re bluffing. You don’t have a witness.”

“Yes, we do. He came forward yesterday, and his testimony is credible.”

Meg’s legs began to shake, and she sank back into the chair she’d occupied most of the night.

“I also spoke with a few of your coworkers this morning.” The other detective joined the conversation. Colin something. “Including the guy who picked up lunch for you at a Subway near his house the day of the bomb incident. Which leaves you unaccounted for during that hour.”