"So, we're back at the start," Cole began, shoving a few fries into his mouth.

"Yes. Back to the day of Hallie's murder.  And with a mostly fresh slate," she said, swiping at the juice from her burger that had dribbled down her chin.  "Which means Nathan Rutherford is back on the board beside Richard Whitmore."

"I know this is your method, but I'm figuring Senator Whitmore for both killings," Zeb stated as he pensively sipped on his milkshake.  "It just makes the most sense."

"You think so?" Cole wondered.

Zeb gave a nod.  "We have the cell phones with all those texts between him and Hallie. We have his statement admitting to the affair. He was angry that Hallie broke it off. He has absolutely no alibi during her time of death... I'd guess cases have been prosecuted with less evidence."

"Not my cases.  Not unless I'm once hundred percent certain that I've got the right person," she stated, going for her shake and taking a swig.

Cole lifted a brow at her. "You're not a hundred percent certain that Whitmore is our guy?"

She leveled her gaze at the man. "Are you?"

Cole took a moment to turn that question over in his mind before he answered. "I could stand a bit more convincing."

That reply seemed to surprise Zeb. "Wait. So, you think the senator might not have killed Hallie? And Nathan Rutherford might not have killed her? So...who's left?"

"Well, ordinarily, I'd be looking at Mrs. Senator..."

"But, I followed up with Mr. Lansing. He backs up her story that she was with with him in his suite from just after six thirty onward," said Zeb.

"False alibis are as common as dirt on the ground," Cole pointed out. "And these people have had weeks to get their stories straight."

Zeb let out a long breath. "So, now what? Seems like we're dead in the water."

It was starting to feel that way.

"What does The Shark do when she comes up against a wall?" wondered Cole.

"Ordinarily, she'd have all the time she needed to work it out, so she'd start over as many times as it took to get it right," she replied. "So, she'd go back and hit every witness again, write new notes to compare to the original notes later, maybe expand the witness pool and question some new people... But, we don't have the time for all that."

"There are three of us..." Cole reminded. "We can divide and conquer, question whoever we can today and meet back up here this evening to compare their statements? If you trust myself and Collins to work in your stead?"

Actually, she'd never allowed anyone to question a witness for her. But, circumstances altered cases... "Sounds like a plan. I'd like another go at Hallie's family, if you two don't mind taking the clutch of friends and the two we have in Holding?"

"I-I've never actually questioned a witness before," Zeb balked, shrinking away from the notion. "This is a double murder case. I don't want to mess anything up."

"You won't. You probably can't," she told the young man. "Its just asking whatever questions you think are relevant in the moment and taking detailed notes. That's all there is to it."

Zeb did not appear at all comforted by her words and began to look a bit like a deer in the headlights.

"You've read every file and note from both Rogers and myself, Zeb.  You know as much about this case as we do," she pointed out firmly.  "All you have to do is...just start talking and see where it goes.  I mean, if they'll agree to speak with you at all."

"Getting thrown into the deep end is the best way to learn, Collins," was Cole opinion on the matter. "So, do you want to take the three socialite girlfriends who probably eat boys like you for breakfast? Or do you want the arrogant little playboy prick and the senator who'll probably verbally tear your intestines out and use them to horse whip you?"

Zeb went a shade paler, with clearly neither option appealing to him. But, then he seemed to gather his courage and steel his spine. "If the deep end's best...then I'll take the playboy and the senator."

"That's brave," Cole said, impressed. "Just don't get too close to the cage. Whitmore might bite."

That statement caused Zeb to flinch, but he didn't renege his decision. It was made and he was sticking to it.

"I reckon that leaves you with the socialites, Dalton," Tessa pointed out. "I'm sure they'll go easy on you."

"I hope," Cole chuckled. "The Stepford daughters give me the willies."

"Well, good luck to the both of you. Meanwhile, I'll be hip deep in lurid, incestuous affairs and bitter wives. Not to mention that snotty butler that I'd really like to just...throat punch."

"Maybe you can do that later? After this thing is put to bed?" suggested Cole.

"That's a nice thought," she admitted, smiling at the notion.

"Welp, I'll give you a ride to your motel and we'll see what we can stir up," Cole said, turning back to the rest of his lunch.

Tessa did the same, thinking she'd need the fortification.  And also thinking that they needed their luck to take an upswing because one of them, and she did not care who it was, needed to find that one detail, that one speck, that would help them figure everything out.  Before it was too late.

*  *  *  *  *  *

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, she hopped into the Wagoneer and made her way out into The Flats and back to the Autry residence, crossing her fingers that the third time was the charm.

She hadn't been able to drive out into the desert on her own and ordinarily, she would have been taking in the scenery and enjoying flying down the open stretch of highway that had not another soul in sight. It would have been just the right kind of drive to blow the cobwebs away and settle her thoughts. But, as it was, she couldn't allow herself to relax enough to accomplish either of those things, not when there was a high probability that an innocent young man might be hung out to dry.

Truly, she was afraid that might be the eventual outcome. If no viable, provable evidence could be turned up, if nothing could be found to link anyone else to the murders of Hallie and Etty, Nathan Rutherford likely would stand trial for them. And even if a jury of twelve couldn't be convinced of his guilt, the rest of the world likely would be. Either way, his life would be over.

Of course, if Detective Rogers was any kind of human being, he wouldn't be forcing her investigation's timeline, just to soothe his own ego. But, she would deal with Rogers once she'd laid the more important matter to rest. 

 And she would deal with him...

Pulling up in front of the Autry home, she threw the Wagoneer into park and stepped out into the afternoon heat that caused her flesh to prickle with perspiration. By passing the fancy vehicles, less one, she hurried to the door and gave the bell a ring, which was promptly answered by Jonathan, looking as haughty and disdainful as always.

"Detective, you're back.  Again," the man intoned.

"I need to speak with the household," she stated bluntly.

"The family are by the pool having drinks. I'll take you to them," he all but sighed, stepping back so that she could enter.

As she stepped into the cool foyer, the first thing her gaze landed on was the plethora of suitcases and cardboard boxes filling up one side. There were so many boxes stacked there, she'd have to guess that the newly single Ms. Autry had removed and packed up every bit and bob that Senator Whitmore owned.

Following Jonathan through the opulent house, she was taken out to the patio area and over to the cabana, where the remaining Whitmores were lounging about, sipping cocktails and nibbling on food being served off silver trays.

"Detective! Good afternoon!" Ellen greeted with a bit more enthusiasm than the two previous visits. "To do what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I have a few more questions, if you don't mind," she said, in a tone that clearly stated she didn't particular care if they did mind.

"Of course! Please, have a seat!" Ellen waved her over toward them.

Tessa obeyed, taking a seat in a chair facing the group, pulling her new field notebook and a pen from her purse and preparing to get down to business.

"Its dreadfully hot today. Have a drink, won't you?" Ellen offered. "Jonathan? Fetch Detective Stark something cold. A soda, since she's on duty."

She didn't object as Jonathan hurried to the bar across the cabana. Not that she was particularly thirsty, but at the moment, having Jonathan waiting on her was ever so slightly satisfying.

"Detective, how is my brother doing?" Stephen questioned from his place beside his wife. "Is he...is he holding up?"

She gave the man a nod. "He's being looked after. He's in Holding, not in with the general population, so he's safe."

She had nothing against Stephen Whitmore or the rest of the family, so there was no reason not to soothe their worries as best she could. No matter what Richard Whitmore might have done, he was still a brother and a father and his family didn't deserve to suffer any more than necessary.

"We saw on The Buzz that a witness came forward about...what happened to Etty...and that you had a suspect in custody. So, does that mean my dad...really killed Etty? And Hallie?" asked Trista, her voice quiet and her face pale. "Is he really a murderer?"

That question struck Tessa straight in the chest. She knew what the girl was thinking, all the terrible things that were running through her mind...wondering that if her own flesh and blood had turned out to be a monster, what did that make her...

"A witness came forward, but no official arrest has been made just yet. And there won't be until I have enough evidence to convince a jury."

Jodie's brows lifted. "But, there's an eye witness?"

"Eye witness accounts can be picked apart on the witness stand. So, I need to keep looking for something that can't be picked apart," she explained. "And the only way to do that, is to keep going."

"Well, we'll help in any way we can," Ellen assured, smiling, her eyes twinkling and her expression...alive. "I, at least, owe you any help that I can give you."

"In that vein, then, I need you to walk me through your movements on the day Hallie was killed."

"Absolutely. But, why are my movements important?" wondered Ellen as Jonathan reappeared with a glass of soda, placing it on the table next to her before discreetly melting away.

"Because, if Mr. Whitmore is the culprit, any defense lawyer worth his salt will try to cause doubt by casting suspicion onto the next most likely person. Which would be the scorned wife."

"I have an alibi, though," the woman reminded easily, picking up a martini glass and taking a sip.

"Wealthy people can buy alibis, Ms. Autry. Which is why I need to make sure there's nothing for a defense lawyer to poke holes in, as far as you're concerned," she stated. "And I need to know the movements of the rest of the family. Just to cover all the bases."

Stephen lifted a shoulder. "I was here, working in my office until about ten that night."

"He was," Jodie confirmed. "There was some Skype meeting thing he had and then he spent the rest of the evening pecking away at his computer. We had plans to go out to dinner, but we had to cancel."

"What time was this meeting, Mr. Whitmore?" she asked, making notations.

"The meeting was just before six. It lasted until seven thirty. Then I had to draw up the proper contracts for the decommissioning of one of our clients offshore oil wells," came the response.  "That took several hours."

"I'd already gotten my hair and makeup done and was practically waiting by the door," Jodie reminded. "Of course, I suppose a canceled dinner date doesn't matter...in comparison."

"So, you were both here from six o'clock onward?" she questioned.

"Yes," Jodie replied. "Stephen didn't come out of his office and I just...wafted around until then."

"And you two girls?" she turned to Cameran and Tristan. "Where were you that evening?"

"Here," Cameran answered. "There was nothing really going on besides Etty's party, so we both stayed home. We were in the den, watching movies."

"And you, Ms. Autry? Will you walk me through your movements again?" she turned back to Ellen.

Ellen gave an easy nod. "I was here until my hair appointment at five thirty, but like I said, it ran late because someone suddenly left sick that day. I was out by just after six thirty and went straight to meet Peter at the hotel. I was so late, I actually ran a red light to get there."

Tessa stiffened. "You ran a red light? Was there a traffic camera at this red light?"

"In fact, yes. I received a ticket in the mail a couple of weeks ago, but I paid it," the woman replied firmly.

"Where was this red light? In what part of town?" was her next question.

Ellen took a sip before answering.  "It was on Gibson Street, right at the intersection of North Wilcox."

"And exactly how far is Gibson Street from Route 44?" she asked.

Ellen lifted a thin shoulder. "Oh, Gibson is only a couple of miles from the Danforthe, so completely across town."

Which meant that it was physically impossible for Ellen Whitmore to run a red light near the Danforthe around six thirty, turn around, drive out to Route 44, kill her niece, and then drive all the way back to the hotel, covered in blood most likely, in time to have dinner with her lover.

"I did pay the ticket," Ellen repeated earnestly. "And I usually don't run red lights, but things were such a mess at Chateaux. Everything was running behind. Even that poor girl Etty Montrose was there, raising a bit of hell because she was going to be late for her own party."

Again, Tessa stiffened. "Etty Montrose was there?"

Ellen nodded. "She was. Her appointment was supposed to be at five thirty, too, for hair and makeup, but she waited so long, she gave up and left right about when I did. She was highly upset because she had to go all the way back across town to get dressed and she wasn't going to have time to do anything with her hair or makeup because she'd waited for so long."

Etty Montrose had shown up to her party late, and upset, and looking like she'd just stepped out of the shower, because her hair appointment had fallen through...  

A thought struck her at that moment. "Do any of Etty's other girlfriends go to Chateaux to get their hair done?"

"They all go there," Cameran interjected.  "They keep that place in business."

"Hallie goes there, too?"

"Yeah," nodded Cameran.  "Hallie never went anywhere else to get her hair and makeup done."

"Do you know if Hallie went there that day? Before Etty's party?" was her next question.

"She wasn't there when I had my appointment," replied Ellen.  "But if she was going to a party, she'd probably been there at some point. Likely, all Hallie's friends were.  Why? Is that important?"

"I'm not sure," she told the woman.

But, what she was fairly sure of was the fact that women talked. Especially to their hair dressers. Her own hair dresser, who she only saw occasionally, was the chattiest woman she'd ever met, always asking questions and going on and on about anything and everything, just to fill up the half hour with something other than silence.

So, if Hallie Whitmore had frequented Chateaux, and most especially if she'd gone there the day of her murder, perhaps the hair dressers there could provide details that might prove useful. And any detail might be the one detail she needed to bring the case together.

It could turn out, considering that Hallie was carrying on with her own uncle while she was engaged to Nathan Rutherford, that there was someone else in her stable that hadn't been discovered yet. Maybe Hallie had let slip a name. Or maybe she had other problems in her life that she wouldn't have told her friends, but would be willing to vent to someone outside her circle. Or perhaps some of her friends had let something slip about Hallie's goings on, even inadvertently, that one of the salon workers had overheard.  

Or perhaps...if miracles existed...Richard Whitmore had happened by, to see if Hallie was there, and someone might remember seeing his car.

It was a long shot, given, but the fact that an entire group of people orbiting around her investigation frequented the same hair salon, some of them on the same day a murder was committed, was just something she couldn't ignore. And so, she wouldn't. Not when every single word and detail mattered.

"Detective," Trista began, turning stricken eyes to Tessa, "you'll keep looking, won't you? Until you're sure about who did all this? I mean...he's my dad and I need to know. Whether he did something horrible or not, I need to know."

She understood that need more than most. "I'll keep going. Whether it was your father or not, I promise I'll give you an answer."

Stephen cleared his throat then. "You know, Richard is still my brother. No matter what he might have done...or might have become, he's still my brother. And I'd like to know what I can do to help him right now."

"Stephen, no! That man might have killed our daughter! You can't!" Jodie gasped, horrified.

"I know that," Stephen consoled, patting his wife's arm. "But, two wrongs and all that. If Rich did...that...to Hallie, he'll pay. And I want him to pay. But, he's my family and I can't just turn my back on him."

"I can turn my back, Stephen.  And I'm going to," Jodie stated stiffly.

"You do what you need to do, Jo," the man soothed. "But, what I need to do is help my brother in any way I can.  I'm sure he needs a lawyer--"

"No!  I am not hiring a lawyer to defend the man who killed my daughter!  I will not!" Jodie declared, her eyes flashing fire.

"You won't have to.  I have my own money.  And I can cash in some stocks if necessary--"

"I'll help," Cameran suddenly spoke.

"Cameran!" Jodie gasped. "No! Your sister--"

"Was not innocent in whatever the hell went on!" Cameran interjected coldly. "We don't know what she did to Uncle Rich to...incite him! Hallie used him like she used everybody else around her! I'm not willing to blame it all on Uncle Rich!"

"Cameran—"

"Mom, stop!" Cameran snapped. "Uncle Rich didn't get to this point all by himself! My sister helped to ruin his life! And I'm going to take responsibility and get him a lawyer because my sister never took any responsibility for anything!"

There was a span of silence from the group before Stephen finally spoke again. "Detective, can I see my brother? I need to let him know that he's going to have representation."

"He won't be allowed visitors until he's been processed out of Holding and released into the population," she stated. "But, if you want to help him, you can get hold of a lawyer and send him or her to the sheriff's office. They can talk to your brother at any time."

"That's what we'll do, then. Thank you," Stephen replied.

"Indeed, thank you, Detective," Ellen seconded. "You managed to uncover something that finally forced me to let go of a mess that I'd been stubbornly clinging to for far too long."

Trista huffed out a disgusted snort and rolled her eyes. "You're both a mess! It wasn't just dad! You two always hated each other! He only stayed around for the money and you only kept him around because you liked being married to a senator!"

Her daughter's words didn't seem to cause Ellen Autry any amount of distress, because she merely shrugged and continued on with her martini.

"Can I have the address to your hair salon?" Tessa asked, ready to move on.

"Of course," Ellen smiled easily. "Its Chateaux, at 2028 North Vista Drive."

"Well, thank ya'll for your help," she said, closing her notebook and putting it away. "I'll be in touch if I need to talk to you again or if there any developments."

"We'll be waiting to hear from you," said Ellen.

And knowing that, she would be doing her best to come up with the answers that at least one member of the Autry household was going to need, just so she could try and move forward with her life in some form or fashion.