Shades of the Falls (A Sweetwater Falls Mystery Book 13) by Elle Gray

Author:Elle Gray [Gray, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elle Gray
Published: 2025-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

“Where were you headed, Mr. Turner?”

“Out of town.”

He sat at the table in the cramped interview room, his expression tight, his eyes brimming with rage. His hands sat on top of the table balled into fists, his knuckles white. He looked like a man who wanted nothing more than to take a swing at her. He might enjoy it. It suggested to Spenser that he was a man with a temper who might enjoy hurting women.

“Is going on a vacation illegal now, Sheriff?” he growled.

“Not usually,” she replied. “But when you seem to be fleeing jurisdiction after being asked some tough questions and being implicated in the murder of a teenage girl, it’s not the best look.”

“I wasn’t fleeing anywhere. I was going out of town for a few days,” he hissed. “This is something that’s been planned for a while. You can check with the school.”

“We will, don’t worry,” she replied.

He shifted in his seat. He stared at them with a glimmer of shock in his eyes, but Spenser read his body language, and it almost seemed as if he was resigned. Almost as if he had been expecting it. Having lived a secret life romancing an underage girl, she hoped he had been expecting to be caught at some point.

“What am I doing here?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.”

He sat back in his chair and turned away, refusing to meet Spenser’s eyes, clenching his jaw and flexing his hands. Spenser leaned against the wall and watched him closely, enjoying the way he squirmed beneath her scrutiny. She was certain he’d had an affair with Piper. The way he refused to meet her eyes whenever she mentioned the girl, his antsy squirming when her name was brought up all but confirmed it for her.

“I didn’t kill Piper, Sheriff.”

His voice was soft, quiet, and with a tone of resignation that matched his expression. He cleared his throat and sat up in his chair, seeming to be summoning up his strength and courage. Turner was used to dealing with young, naïve, and impressionable girls. They tended to be more pliable. He wasn’t used to having strong, independent women staring him down, and it clearly made him uncomfortable. Being able to respond was something he had to work up the nut to do.

“You can’t hold me here,” he said.

“Actually, I can,” Spenser replied. “We can hold you up to seventy-two hours before we have to bring charges.”

“And why are you holding me?”

“You’re a suspect in Piper Sharp’s death, Mr. Turner.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

“So you keep telling me,” Spenser replied. “But you also keep telling me you weren’t sleeping with her, and we both know that’s a lie.”

“You can’t prove anything.”

“I have enough to probably convince a jury that you’re a pedophile.”

Turner slammed his fist down on the table and scowled at her. “I am not a pedophile.”

“You were sleeping with a child—”

“I was not sleeping with her. And Piper was not a child,” he sneered.

“She wasn’t an adult.”

“The technical term would be ephebophile.

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