Free To Hell in a Handbasket by Beth Groundwater Page B

with either one.”
    Spreading his hands wide, Silverstone said, “I don’t know what to think.”
    â€œStephanie was my friend,” Judy blurted out. “My boyfriend’s sister. Why would we want to hurt her?”
    â€œMaybe she didn’t approve of the relationship.”
    Claire leaned forward and slapped the top of Silverstone’s desk. “Look. Judy’s upset enough. She’s experienced more death in the last two days than in her whole lifetime up ’til now. And there’s a big difference between saying a gentle goodbye to her grandfather in a nursing home and watching a young man get run down by a speeding car.”
    Claire glanced at Judy, who wiped her nose and stared at her mother. “I will not allow her to be upset further. We came here willingly to cooperate with your investigation, not to be accused of killing people.” She sat back, crossed her arms over her chest, and narrowed her eyes at Silverstone.
    A noise behind them made Claire turn around. A patrolman stood next to the one who had been typing and now sat stock still. They both stared at her.
    â€œThe crepe-stand workers can tell you,” Roger said, “we not only were nowhere near Naylor when he was hit, but we provided first aid and called nine-one-one, just like we did for Stephanie.”
    Silverstone shooed the two officers out of the room with a wave of his hand then focused his attention on the Hanovers. “And for that massage therapist in Colorado Springs, too?”
    Roger slumped in his chair and eyed Claire. “So you heard about that.”
    â€œI thought I recognized your name,” Silverstone said, “and I did a little research last night. This makes three deaths you’ve been involved in, right?”
    â€œRoger was totally exonerated in that murder,” Claire replied, “as you should know from your research. It has nothing to do with these deaths.”
    â€œYou can understand why I’d be suspicious, though.”
    â€œNo, I can’t.”
    Roger’s jaw worked as he ground his teeth together. “Look, if you’re going to accuse us of something, do it; then we’ll sue you for false arrest.”
    Silverstone held up his hands, palms out. “I’m not accusing any of you of a crime. But I do need to know what’s going on here, and what your connection to it is.”
    He rose and paced behind the desk. “We rarely get more than a few burglaries, drunk-driving arrests, maybe a domestic dispute or two in a week, and now all of a sudden, we have two deaths on our hands. The resources of our office and the Breckenridge police are being stretched damn thin to handle the investigations, let alone deal with the interference.”
    Could someone be hampering the investigations deliberately? Claire leaned forward. “Interference?”
    Silverstone pulled a small, shiny brown object out of his pocket and rubbed it absentmindedly. “The press, who want all the lurid details. And on the opposite side, the ski resort, the chamber of commerce, and the local politicians who all want this bad news to go away fast.”
    He stopped and peered at the Hanovers. “Besides the timing, the only link we have between the two deaths is your presence.”
    â€œThat’s not the only link,” Claire said, deciding that the promise she made to Boyd had died with him.
    Silverstone reseated himself at his desk, his fists balled on the top. “You referring to the connection you refused to discuss with Officer Koch last night?”
    â€œBoyd Naylor saw who killed Stephanie,” Claire said. “He is, or was, the snowboarder we were looking for.”
    Roger nodded. “That’s probably why he was killed. The SUV hit him deliberately—aimed right for him.”
    â€œAnd Nail-It was scared,” Judy added. “The skier who hit Stephanie chased him after Nail-It saw what