Guilt by Association (A Murder in the Mountains Book 3) by Heather Day Gilbert

Author:Heather Day Gilbert [Gilbert, Heather Day]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-06T20:00:00+00:00

I drive down Main Street after the funeral to see if Ruby’s hanging around. Having no success there, I lock my doors, then wheel down the slightly disreputable back alleys. The town’s pretty dead this time of day, and the empty streets seem to mock me. Ruby probably decided it was too risky to attend the funeral.

I wish I had something to do, some way to be useful. The idea of returning to the trailer right now is just depressing. Desperate for something to keep me occupied, I call Zeke.

He’s shuffling papers around as he speaks. “Tess. Sorry I didn’t make the wake or funeral, but Biff said he had those covered. Anything turn up?”

“I saw Ruby outside the wake, but she ran and I couldn’t catch her. So at least she’s still alive. How about you—any news?”

He hesitates, and my mind races in the pounding silence. Something’s happened.

“Turns out Mason’s heroin was laced with Fentanyl, and it looks like it’s from the same batch as the patches under your mom’s trailer. There were no prints on the patches or the bag, but the numbers match up with a shipment of Fentanyl that was reported stolen from Boone Memorial Hospital.”

“So are you saying my mom stole those?”

His voice is soothing. “That’s not at all what I’m saying. Again, it doesn’t seem likely that your mom would drag the dead boy into her yard, then leave stolen patches around to frame herself.”

“True, but those patches would never have been found if I hadn’t pulled on that loose piece of vinyl and looked under the trailer.”

“Good point. They weren’t in the open. Someone took the time to hide them, and I’m wondering why. Why drop the corpse where all can see just to frame someone, then hide the smoking gun, so to speak?” A clunk sounds on the other end and he groans. “Just spilled coffee on some paperwork I have to turn in today. Gotta run. Just keep your eyes open and try to figure out why, but don’t put yourself in any danger while you do it.”

My stomach growls, so I pull into Tudor’s Biscuit World and hit the drive-through. I don’t like their coffee, but their shaved ham and cheese biscuits are amazing and they’re just the kind of comfort food I need. I scarf mine down, then reluctantly head back toward Scots’ Hollow.

Going into a curve, I have to grin at the warning sign that’s been convincingly spray-painted to read “85 miles per hour” versus the far more appropriate “35 miles per hour.” Vandalism is nothing to laugh at, but I understand the restlessness of teens in this area. I’m only visiting, and it’s starting to get to me, too.

I pull across the bridge and drive past Billy Jack’s light blue trailer, which sits at the front of the park. A large air conditioning unit protrudes from one of his front windows, set at a precarious angle that gives the amusing appearance of a snaggle tooth. His wooden

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