Free Cold Justice: A Judge Willa Carson Mystery (The Hunt for Justice) by Diane Capri

Kemp or anyone else just yet. I needed to sort out how to handle that for myself first. I’d warned Randy Trevor off. But he was dangerous and I didn’t know how far he would go. I wasn’t afraid of him, but I wasn’t ready to take him on, even though I’d told him otherwise.
    I tried again to open the door, but Kemp had pushed the door locks and held me captive.
    “Look,” Kemp said, glancing down at his watch. “It’s dark out, already after five o’clock. My shift is over. What if we grab a quick dinner and then I’ll make sure you get back and settled in for the night.”
    I wanted to find George and drive down to Traverse City and catch the first flight out of here. I wanted to sit next to George and hold his hand and talk to him. I wanted to be there when his eyes twinkled and he said, “Hey, what’s up, Mighty Mouse?”
    But I didn’t know where George was or when he would be back. Kemp was right. Again. Dammit. Why had I never listened to George when he wanted me to carry a concealed weapon? Stubbornness actually can go too far. Who knew?
    Now that the windows were partially clear, I could see the main road in front of the courthouse was snow blocked again. The plows hadn’t been by here in at least an hour, and more fresh snow had piled on top of the old, and it was still coming down fast. It would be the same everywhere, only most roads would be even worse.
    The wind was starting to whip up, too. Wind would take some of the humidity out of the air and blow drifts across the roads. Treacherous black ice was impossible to see or tame. If I got stuck out there, I could very well freeze to death. I’d be of no use to anyone suffering from frostbite, or worse.
    Reluctantly, I had to agree with Kemp.
    But I didn’t have to like it.
    “Come on,” Kemp cajoled. “You need to eat. We’re not far from Eagle Creek Cafe. You won’t find better food anywhere.”
    He was right on all points. I might as well have a good meal. I hadn’t eaten much today and we had scant provisions at the cottage. I’d be at least a little safer in a place where there were other people. And maybe my phone would work in a more populated place and I could get connected and back in control of my life.
    “Okay, Kemp. You’ve worn me down.”
    He grinned. “And you can call me Justin, Willa. It’ll make dinner conversation less ridiculous,” he said as he put the cruiser in gear and slowly made our way through the white drifts covering the roads.
    Our progress toward Eagle Creek was glacial. He’d popped the cruiser into four-wheel drive, which helped some with traction, but required an even slower pace. We spent half an hour driving and sliding the two miles to the restaurant.
    “His wife, Madeline, is the real power behind the throne. She’s got a temper, too. Trevor is an all-around good guy, Willa. He takes care of his family is all. Can’t blame a guy for that,” Kemp said, eyes staring straight ahead, white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
    “So I figured out,” I replied, sarcasm loaded in my tone. I was still mad. Not ready to let my grievances go.
    “The family’s had a run of bad luck for the past few years,” he said.
    “ Bad luck? Is that what you call it around here? Where I’m from, we call that murder and it gets you the death penalty.” My hand had a tight grip on the armrest and my feet pressed into the floor helping to keep my balance as Kemp’s cruiser struggled and slid and slewed along the snow covered streets.
    Kemp glanced briefly toward me, looking for agreement or friendship or something I wasn’t prepared to offer. “We don’t know that David killed Leo yet. And even if we find out that David did pull the trigger, can you imagine how hard that’s got to be on Trevor?”
    “Not as hard as it was on Leo Richards, I’ll bet,” I replied.
    “There’s six kids involved, you know.”
    “Six? I’m confused. I thought Leo had two and David had two.”
    “That’s right, but