Free In the Shadow of Evil by Robin Caroll

hands in her lap, then splayed her fingers loosely over her legs. She hoped she didn't look uncomfortable or nervous. Lord, I could really use a little peace right now.
    "How do you feel about having been awarded a regional CotY award?"
    Layla inhaled slowly. "So many wonderful contractors entered. I'm honored just to be in their company." That sounded good, right? She sounded intelligent, knowledgeable, and she'd plugged the organization that put on the awards. She let out a breath. This wasn't as difficult as she'd imagined.
    "Sounds exciting."
    "It is." Layla nodded. "It's the highlight event of the year for every contractor I know."
    "Let's move on, shall we?" Krissy smiled, but it was more like a bared-teeth grimace of one competitor to another before a big bout.
    Splinters of apprehension darted through Layla. "O-kay."
    "The project you won the award for . . . isn't it a Hope-for-Homes house?"
    Those splinters sprouted into full two-by-fours. Layla licked her lips and wiped her palms against her jeans. "Y-yes."
    "Wasn't it, in fact, the house that burned down late Friday night?"
    How could she get away without making a scene?
    "Ms. Taylor, wasn't it the house that burned down late Friday night?" Krissy held the recorder closer to Layla.
    "Y-yes."
    "How do you feel about that?"
    Was this woman for real? How was she supposed to answer something like that?
    The recorder pushed almost in her face. "Ms. Taylor?"
    Layla's mouth felt stuffed with cotton. "Horrible, of course. I hate that any building burns, but especially a house. Someone's home." She needed to get away from this woman . . . fast.
    "Wasn't a body in the house when it burned, Ms. Taylor?"
    This was going from bad to worse. Enough was enough. Layla struggled to her feet, gripping her bag like a vise. "I couldn't say."
    Krissy stood in a flash. "Come on, Ms. Taylor, you know a body was in that house. A house that you built. Do you know who it was?"
    "N-no. You'd have to ask the police for that information." Layla glanced across the courtyard, her heart beating double-time. "If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work." She turned toward her truck.
    "One last question, Ms. Taylor. Do you think someone burned the house you built to make a statement of some sort to you personally?"
    Layla froze, then spun around to face the meddlesome reporter who held the recorder out like a shield. "What?"
    Krissy closed the distance between them. "Do you think someone burned down that house to send you a message? Maybe someone was jealous of your award and wanted to make sure you didn't win on a national level?"
    This woman was unbelievable. Layla glared. "No comment, Ms. Morgan." She turned and marched across the courtyard to her truck. Not hesitating once inside the cab, she started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. Her heartbeat pounded in her head.
    The nerve of the woman. Stupid reporter.
    Layla gripped the steering wheel tighter to stop her hands from trembling. How dare the woman waylay her like that? Acting all sweet and congratulatory before slamming her. Flattering her to get her off guard, then knocking her to her knees.
    Plain and simple, she'd been ambushed.
    How would the story in tomorrow's paper read?
    Pushing aside the worry, Layla went back to the office and finished her estimates and bids. All too soon a honk sounded outside.
    Layla glanced at the clock. Four already? She shut down the computer, grabbed her coat and attaché, and stomped out the door, making sure she locked Taylor Construction behind her. A blast of warm air hit her in the face as she slipped into the passenger seat of her sister's Jeep. "Sorry. I lost track of time."
    "I just called the hospital." Alana put the Jeep in reverse and eased out of the muddy parking area.
    "How's Ms. Ethel?"
    "Not so good. I talked to her grandson. He said they're discussing moving her to ICU right now."
    "What did he say the doctors think it is?"
    "That's what's so frustrating. The doctors don't