North Country(67)

“That’s right,” Holt confirms, his gaze steady as he lies. “Us and Emery here. Right, Emery?”

They must have been listening at the door. Their timing couldn’t be more perfect—before either Logan or I could dig deeper holes for ourselves.

I falter. “That’s right.”

Terry regards Logan. “Why did you say no when I asked?”

Logan wears an unreadable mask and doesn’t answer. I don’t blame him. He was open and honest way back when and it got him nowhere.

“He must have misunderstood your question, is all,” Jon answers for him.

Terry’s eyes narrow. He’s not stupid. “And until what time were you all together in Logan’s apartment?”

“Oh gosh. It was really late.” Jon scratches his head. “I can’t remember exactly how late. It felt like morning. Do you remember what time it was, Em?”

Jon’s lobbing that answer to me intentionally—I know what window of time they’re looking at for Holly’s disappearance. “At least three. Maybe later.” Like six thirty a.m. later.

Terry eyes us all in turn. He senses something fishy, but with three of us backing Logan’s alibi and one of those people being me, there’s nothing more to say. “Did any of you see or hear anything that can help the investigation into Holly’s disappearance?”

“The Murphys were there,” Holt says. “If I were you, I’d spend my time looking at that lot. Nothing good ever comes from them.”

“Noted.” Terry tucks his pad under his arm. “Thank you for your time. Sorry for disrupting your dinner.”

“No problem. We hope you find that girl safe and sound.” Jon waves.

Terry eases down the steps, heading for his vehicle with a holler of, “See you tomorrow, McAllister.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Logan murmurs once Terry’s safely inside his vehicle, the first words he’s uttered since my admission.

“Done what? Tell him the truth? That you had nothing to do with this mess?” Jon slaps Logan’s back again.

“Yeah, but …” After a moment, Logan turns to Holt. “Thank you.” Two words delivered gruffly.

Holt nods. “Us Landrys need to stick together.”

To anyone who doesn’t know this family, it’s a clichéd slogan.

But to those who watched this family fall apart once, it means everything.

Holt studies me. I doubt Logan admitted to anything outright but, between our run-in that evening and Jon seeing me leave early the next morning, and now this guerrilla-style rescue, they’ve obviously pieced things together. “Is that the last we’ll hear from him?”

It should be, but Terry’s sharp and he likely still has questions. “If it’s not, you make sure you have a lawyer before you say another word to him.” As it is, Terry shouldn’t have been pushing for an alibi like that while questioning a witness.

And if I weren’t so paralyzed by my own panic, I would have said as much. But I also probably shouldn’t be involved in this investigation.

“Won’t that make Logan look guilty?” Jon asks.

“I already look guilty just for standing here.” Logan’s brow is heavy. He’s brooding.

“All right. Enough of this.” Holt reaches for the door handle. “Let’s try to get through this dinner without another interruption. Damn gravy’s probably cold.”

“Don’t tell your daughter that,” Jon warns, trailing him in.

I wait for Logan to follow, but he doesn’t.

“What the fuck, Em,” he snaps the moment the door shutters, turning to glare at me. “Don’t you ever put yourself on the line like that for me again. Ever!”

“What? By telling the truth?”

“You know what I mean. If people found out?” He gives me a look. No need to elaborate.

I resist the urge to touch him again. “You’re innocent. I know that and you know that. I’m not letting them build a case around you as a suspect just because of your past.”

He paces on the front porch, the floorboards creaking under his weight. “They’re gonna do it, anyway. You know how these things work.”

He’s not wrong. A legitimate police case is one thing, but there’s the public court of opinion and that will be ripe with accusations and assumptions. People are already talking. Brad Whitley’s leading that charge. Until they have someone else to blame, Logan will be their favorite suspect. “The police need to be focusing on real leads.”

Logan’s jaw is clenched tight, his anger with me only growing. “If they hadn’t come out and covered for us when they did?” He tosses a thumb toward the front door. “Then what? Huh?” His voice rises. “Were you going to hang your career for me?”

I swallow against the nausea bubbling up. “Well … they did cover.”

“Yeah. By lying.” He chuckles. It’s a dark, mirthless sound. “My life might have turned to shit, but I’m not dragging everyone else down with me. ”

“It was necessary, and it worked. You have a solid alibi.” And my reputation will remain intact, at least for now.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is this why you came here tonight?”