Free Raisin the Dead by Karoline Barrett Page A

murder investigation? Isn’t the person of interest always the guilty party?”
    He took my hand and looked into my eyes. “No. Not everyone who’s called a person of interest even becomes a suspect. Person of interest means someone who may have information we need, or someone we need to question further.
    â€œPersonally, I don’t think Anne had anything to do with it, but I have a job to do. I have to be impartial, and investigate everything and everyone, even if they have only a sliver of information. In case.”
    In case my mother’s a murderer, I finished for him inside my head. Then, I had one of those “Aha!” moments that you’re sure will clear everything up. “If you’re talking about the antifreeze in my parents’ garage, my father always keeps it there. For emergencies. Are you going to question him, too? If you’re going to question everyone in Destiny with antifreeze in their garages, then the murderer could be anyone.”
    â€œIt’s not the antifreeze. I’ve never been in their garage. Again, I don’t know for sure Baldelli was murdered.”
    â€œOh, please! You must be sure. Why else would you have to question my mother again? Why would you call it a case? What exactly came up?” I deposited Noelle back on the ground and waved my arms in the air. “Never mind, I know you can’t tell me. You realize she’ll tell me everything after you talk to her. Which, by the way, will be when?”
    He sat beside me and took my hand again. “Tomorrow. I’m asking you not to say anything to her about this before I talk to her. Promise me.”
    I did, reluctantly.
    â€œIf I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have told you ahead of time. It’s about as far from protocol as I can get.”
    My heart lurched and my stomach clenched. Then, my throat went dry and my knees went wobbly. Good thing I was sitting down. “You love me? Did you . . . did you say you love me?”
    He hooked his thumbs on the pockets of his pants. “Yeah.”
    Of all the ways I envisioned Sean telling me he loved me—if he chose to do so, that is—announcing it right after telling me he had to question my mother further about a murder case, excuse me, suspicious death, was not one of them. This was supposed to be the moment I wrapped my arms around his neck and told him I loved him, too, because I did.
    Instead, I was wrapping my mind around him questioning my mother again. Could I love a man who was sending my mother away for murder? An overstatement, I realize, but that’s where my brain went.
    â€œTell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
    My eyes filled with tears. “Why did you decide to tell me you love me now?”
    He drew me into a hug. “I didn’t decide, it slipped out. I’m sorry. Bad timing on my part. Forget it, we’ll discuss it later.”
    I tried, but his words kept echoing in my head. And heart.
    He stood. “I’d better see how things are going out front. You’re going to the bakery later, right?”
    â€œI have to be there at eleven.”
    â€œI’ll see you tonight. We can talk.” He gave me a knowing look. “Not about Baldelli.”
    â€œI won’t mention him. Stay safe.”
    He smiled. “Thanks. I’m sorry, too, about having to talk to Annie.”
    â€œI know. I can’t imagine what’s linking her to Baldelli’s murder.”
    He didn’t answer. We walked back to the front of the library. I was happy to see some of the protestors leaving. Daniel was still talking to a few of them. Why did my mother let him get away with that? Shouldn’t he be inside working? I said goodbye to Sean, who was back to being a detective. I watched him address the rest of the protestors, and thought about his visit later.

CHAPTER 7
    I walked into Bread and Batter a little after eleven. Noelle had been happy to stay