Chapter 12
Michael had halfway been expecting another call from the police, but he still experienced a quick, anxious chill as he picked up his phone and looked down at the number on the home screen. “Good morning, Detective Mendoza. What can I do for you?”
Across the table from him, Audrey froze at once, butter knife idle in one hand, half an English muffin in the other. He shot her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, although he wasn’t sure how well he did at expressing an emotion he certainly didn’t feel at the moment.
“We found a lot of your fingerprints at Mr. Turner’s house,” the detective said. “I was hoping you could explain that to me.”
Michael picked up his coffee with his free hand and took a large swallow. “Like I told you yesterday, Colin Turner and I have been friends a
