Chapter Twelve
The San Antonio police department was big, with staff hurrying through the hallways, phones ringing. The homicide department had seven desks with partitions, with two chairs in front of the old desk that belonged to Detective Murphy.
“You think we can trust him?” Billy Jo said as she scanned her phone, legs crossed, her foot touching Mark’s leg as he sprawled out in the chair beside her and turned toward her.
He made a face and shook his head. “Not sure, maybe. He hasn’t given me any reason to doubt him…”
“Okay, good news,” Detective Murphy said, reappearing before them. “My captain is just talking to the DA now and getting a warrant for that safe. Would’ve given anything to talk to the widow, though, and she’d likely have opened it. The lawyer showing up was bad timing,
