Free Deadlock by DiAnn Mills Page A

thing she’d left before Bethany unleashed a lecture on manners. The possibility of the woman having a form of Asperger’s or Tourette’s stomped across her mind. Elizabeth must be really desperate for volunteers. Then again, what had Bethany gotten herself into? Okay . . . she could spend one hour a week to help women better themselves. Refusing had selfish written all over it, but Dorian needed to curb her outbursts. If it occurred again, Bethany would whip out a few guidelines.
    She made her way to a group of women and chatted with them and the children. After an appropriate time she raised the question: “Were you friends with Alicia Javon?”
    A woman tilted her head. “Because of her tutoring, my son and I will be moving from here to an apartment tomorrow.”
    “She taught me how to read English,” another woman said.
    A staff member mounted the stairway. “Miss Bethany, we have a problem. Your rear tire’s flat.”
    Bethany phoned AAA while descending the stairs and making her way out to her truck. The rear sank to the pavement on the right side. Under her windshield wiper, a piece of paper was wrapped around a rusty nail and held together by a rubber band.
    Reaching inside her purse, she pulled out a pair of latex gloves to explore whatever someone had left. Frustration hovered like a dark cloud.
    You have no idea what I can do.
    Mamá must have told Lucas where she was going. When would he stop his game?

CHAPTER 12
    9:30 A.M. TUESDAY
    Thatcher listened to Bethany’s explanation of why she was late returning from Noah’s Loft. Flat tire. She stood in the doorway of his cubicle, ramrod straight with frown lines across her forehead. What had originally looked like a surefire way for her to gain insight into Alicia Javon’s death now had a hitch.
    “But if you can put up with the new volunteer, you have an opportunity to get closer to the women.” He wouldn’t have gotten involved volunteering in the first place. He did enough of that in college and grad school, but she must find it rewarding. “I don’t recommend pulling your Glock on her. Might ruin your image.”
    Bethany grinned. “I’ll do my best.”
    “Should we conduct a background on any of the residents?”
    “Not at this point,” she said. “Only Elizabeth is aware of my FBI status.”
    “You’re going undercover?”
    “Don’t think so. But I’ll find answers if any of the residents have insight into Alicia.”
    “Glad to see you made it today.”
    “You had doubts?”
    “We both have, but we’re overcomers.”
    She leaned against the side of his cubicle and tilted her head. “Thanks. I needed a little reinforcement.”
    “Keep frowning, and it’ll stick.”
    “I’ll think happy thoughts.”
    Oh, the sarcasm. “We have a busy day lined up. My preference for getting information is through people. Stats and online research are solid, but people can rarely disguise their true feelings.”
    She glanced away. “Have you profiled me?”
    “I did.”
    She reddened. “I’m sure you saw that I’m a solid performer.”
    That was the Bethany Sanchez he expected. “Always.” He laughed but she didn’t respond. “On with the case. Let’s check out Paul Javon’s alibi. Won’t take long to run by Rice University.”
    She jotted it down. “Thank you. I think it will change your perspective about who killed Alicia. What else?”
    “Yesterday you wanted to talk to Carly Javon further, so let’s bring her in for an interview.”
    “She doesn’t think much of her dad, and I’d like to hear her explanation.”
    He pressed in Carly Javon’s cell number and pushed Speaker. A gallon of coffee was fueling his reasoning, but this family had more than its share of secrets. He raked his fingers through his hair. Most families had closet stuff. His included. When the girl answered, he introduced himself.
    “Why are you calling me?” Carly clipped each word.
    “Your mother’s unsolved murder is part of an FBI investigation.”