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“Completely,” Reese replies without hesitation. “This is what I do. Help innocent people.”
“Your mother’s on her way,” Reid announces. “The driver that picked her up just texted me. How’s she handling this? Where’s her head right now?”
Abbie settles back down on the couch next to me. “She’s worried about me and she’s worried about the animals at the shelter.”
“Talk to me about the shelter,” Reese says. “You have absolutely no idea why Jean Claude wants it?”
“None,” Abbie says. “My ex gave it up easily in the divorce.”
“Walker is trying to figure out why that property is in demand,” I explain. “No luck so far. It could have been personal, a way for her ex to lash out at her.”
“Which makes it look like I set him up with Jean Claude to end this,” Abbie worries. “And really I did, but I didn’t think that meant murder.”
“I need a copy of the email you said followed the call,” Reese says, and Abbie nods, pulling out her phone and punching a few buttons. She then shows me the email.
I read the short, to the point message and hand it to Reese. “She made no solicitation for murder at all.”
“It’s nothing more than the document that proved Kenneth was stealing from him,” Abbie adds.
Reese accepts the phone, reads the message and then glances at Abbie. “Can I email this to myself?”
She nods. “Of course.”
Reese sends the message to himself and right as he would hand the phone back to Abbie, Cat reaches for it. “Let me put our numbers in your phone,” Cat offers. “Is that okay?”
Abbie nods. “Yes, please. Great.”
“Ours, too, please,” Carrie says. “Pass me the phone and I can put ours in.”
“I’ve got it,” Cat offers.
“You aren’t saying anything about the email,” Abbie worries, shoving wisps of red curls from her face to study Reese.
“Gabe is right,” Reese replies. “You didn’t solicit murder. You simply sent him the documents. If Jean Claude chose to react to the information you provided by killing Kenneth, no sane person does such a thing. No sane person expects such a thing. You have no reason to believe him capable of such a thing, which will be your defense.”
“Right,” she says, and while there is nothing wrong with her tone, I know where this is going.
My hand comes down on her leg. “You have to tell him.”
“I do,” she says. “I just—I can’t seem,” she looks at me, “to find the words.”
I caress her cheek. “He needs you to just be straight with him.”
“He wants innocence. Saying this out loud doesn’t feel innocent.”
“What isthis?” Reese prods, interjecting himself with a hint of urgency in his tone. “What don’t I know?”
I take control. I give him what he wants and needs, and what I know Abbie is going to choke on if I force her to share it herself. “She knew what Jean Claude was capable of. That’s why she tried to get me to back out of this. She was worried that if I caused trouble for him, that I’d end up dead.” I press my hand to her leg and refocus on Abbie. “You are one of the best people I know, outside of my sister. This doesn’t make you guilty.”
Her lips press together. “Doesn’t it?”
“No, baby,” I say softly. “It doesn’t.”
“Did you think Jean Claude would kill him, Abbie?”
“No.”
“Did you believe that he was capable of murder?”
