Free Designed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery) by Christina Freeburn

day, probably tomorrow when the full news hit the newspapers, but not today. I wasn’t ready to face questions from them, or have to tell my grandmothers Belinda died at our store’s back door.
    My heart and thoughts drifted away from me and to Belinda’s mother and what the poor woman was going through. Maybe I should tell my grandmothers and not wait for them to hear it at church or through the grapevine. They knew the pain Hazel was experiencing and could be a solace to her. My mother and father died in an airplane crash when I was an infant. My grandfathers and grandmothers raised me, living side-by-side in the townhouse complex they still owned. The last unit had been my parents and had been left vacant until I moved back home.
    A car was parked a few feet behind the employee parking spaces of Scrap This. My heart thudded. I slowed down. I snagged the strap of my purse and tugged it toward me. Digging around in the tote for my phone, I scanned the area. The trunk of the four door sedan was opened. A person wearing jeans and a nylon jacket was leaning into the compartment, rooting around for something.
    My breath caught in my throat. Why was someone here this morning? Were they also looking for something left behind? Maybe Belinda hadn’t arrived at the store by herself, or even at all when she was alive. Jasper had said Belinda tripped because it was dark. The security lights would have clicked on and allowed Belinda to see the two small concrete steps.
    Drawing in a deep breath and shutting up the annoying conspiracy theory voice, I grabbed hold of my cell phone and dropped it onto my lap. One closer look before I made a drastic call and announced Belinda’s death was really a murder and the culprit returned to the scene of the crime. I hooked my arms around the steering wheel and leaned closer. The horn bleated. Not a great spying tactic.
    The person jerked upright and spun around, nearly hitting their head on the open trunk. Ted.
    What was he doing here?
    Ted rolled his eyes then returned his attention his car.  He pulled out a large tub and plastic gloves.
    Was he gathering evidence? I pressed a hand to my mouth. Was it murder? What other reason would he have for being at the store? The police wouldn’t have had time to collect everything last night or complete a thorough investigation in the dark. What looked like an accident in the night screamed murder in the morning.
    I had to know what was going on. I got out of my car and went and stood beside him, peeking into his trunk. A large brown box was shoved in the back next to a green garden hose.
    He slammed the trunk. “Do you mind?”
    “If you’re taking evidence from the store, I have a right to know.”
    Ted gave me an odd look. “Evidence?”
    Drat. I swallowed hard and tried to think of a good reason I used that particular word. Thinking of nothing good, I went with the truth. “You’re a homicide detective. I figured you were here because of Belinda’s death. How could she have tripped because it was dark when the security lights turned on?”
    Ted frowned.
    “That’s something to consider. Right?” I rocked on my heels.
    “Maybe they didn’t go off.”
    I shook my head. “Nope. Steve and I drove over here when the alarm company called me. When I approached the back door, they turned on.”
    Ted’s frown deepened and now his eyes tugged down.
    I probably should really shut up now. I had a bad feeling I was doing the law enforcement equivalent of sticker sneezing and creating a mess instead of an eye-pleasing layout.
    “So you’re here investigating a possible crime?” Ted crossed his arms over his chest.
    “Of course not. I’m not a detective. And there hasn’t been a crime committed.”
    “Hallelujah.” Ted raised his hands in the air like he was praising. “She finally figured out she’s not a cop.”
    “You’re hilarious.”
    “I’m not being a jokester.” He grabbed the tub and gloves and headed for the employee