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of? Probably.
    He went to the back door and opened
it. “I liked your dog.”
    That was probably his idea of an
apology. Barbarian. “He’s not mine.”
    Jake stepped outside, but turned
around to face her. “This might sound odd, but I think your assistant believes
we’re sleeping together.”
    “You think? I guess I’ll have to
clear that up by telling him you think I’m too wacko to date then, huh?” And
she slammed the door.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Jake staggered up the stairs to his
bedroom, pulled his clothes off, dropped them onto the floor, and slid under
the covers. He’d forgotten to pull the curtains closed, so the faded sky of
dusk peered in at him until he flipped over on his side, away from the window.
    He’d briefly spoken to his parents
on his cell phone as he’d driven home, updating them on what had happened.
After he’d turned down their offer to fly up from Arizona to be with him and to
temporarily handle Woodhaven, his mother had reminded him, “It’s okay to take
other people’s help.” Sure, he knew that. But he didn’t need help running
Woodhaven. He needed help finding his alibi.
    He needed someone who could tell
him what he’d done last night.
    Emma’s words echoed in his ears: I’m trying to help you. How many other
people are helping you today?
    Well, Mickey had helped him. And
his lawyer Halliburt had helped, sort of. Jake thought Halliburt’s confidence
was too high, considering Jake’s memory loss, and he would start looking
tomorrow for someone else who would take the case more seriously.
    As for Emma…Her indignation as
she’d practically tossed him out of her house hadn’t been feigned, whatever
else psychic stuff she’d been faking. Okay—he’d give her the benefit of the
doubt and accept that she believed that she was trying to help him. Maybe she also truly thought she could read
animals’ minds. Well, there were people out there who believed stranger things.
    Her parting shot had thrown him,
though. Had he really been so rude that he’d said out loud that he thought she
was a wacko? He didn’t remember it, but he couldn’t claim to have been entirely
clearheaded and on his best behavior while with her.
    Funny. Even though she’d blasted
him as she’d kicked him out the door, and even though she unfortunately
believed she had a paranormal talent, he was looking forward to seeing her
again.
    So: Emma, Mickey, Halliburt, and
his parents had helped him today. His family, a pet psychic, and a lawyer. Not
an overwhelming show of support, actually. His buddy Mike could have called,
but hadn’t. Benjamin, another friend, hadn’t called either.
    On impulse, he rolled over, picked
up the phone, and dialed Mike’s number.
    Mike’s wife answered. She and Jake
had never been chatty, but she handed the phone off to Mike with unusual
abruptness.
    “Hey, Jake. How’s it going?” Mike,
a former high school stoner, had always been laid back, almost approaching
lazy, but now his voice was edgy.
    “Fine.” What a dumb answer. “Well,
actually, you probably heard that some bastard killed Ginny last night, and I
almost got arrested today. So, not so fine.”
    “Yeah, Benjamin told me. A bunch of
cops came to talk to him at work this morning. He called me to let me know, and
about five minutes later the cops came to talk to me, too. Asking me about
Ginny and all.”
    “I didn’t even know you knew her—”
Oh. “Asking you about Ginny, or asking you about me?”
    “It started out being about Ginny,
but it moved pretty fast to you.” A pause. Mike sounded oddly neutral as he
added, “They showed me some photos of her, man. That was some sick stuff.”
    “They showed me the photos, too.”
    Did he have to come right out and
say I didn’t do it ? But Mike should
know he hadn’t killed Ginny. Hadn’t stabbed her over and over again and then
left her on the wharf. He and Mike had known each other since junior high.
These things shouldn’t have to be