Privileged Witness by Rebecca Forster

ran tight down her neck. Within moments the scent of fear had been diluted by that of acceptance. It was as if Grace was gone, leaving her body to deal with the likes of a common cop and a lawyer who, without the trappings of the court, was nothing more than a powerless woman. Babcock was leading Grace out the door when Josie stopped them. There was something she had to know.
    ''Why did Matthew's wife kill herself?'' She asked. Grace didn't look back as she answered.
    ''I couldn't tell you.''
    And then she was gone.

CHAPTER 11

    Hot. Dark. Night.
    Josie sat in the Jeep in a nearly empty parking lot. Door open. One foot on the running board. The other stretched out in front of her. Foot flat on the ground. It wasn't late but it was late enough. Josie called Faye. Hannah's party at Gallery C was wrapping up. Three paintings had sold. It was an unbelievable evening, Faye enthused and Josie couldn't argue. It had been an unbelievable night all around.
    Assured that Faye would see Hannah home, Josie swung both legs into the car and dug in her purse for her keys. What she found instead gave her pause. It was Grace McCreary's business card, pushed across the table at the restaurant, the little card that enticed Josie so early in the day. Flipping on the overhead light, Josie checked the address for Matthew McCreary's campaign headquarters on Pine Street. Spitting distance. Tossing it aside, she fired up the engine and threw the Jeep into gear. Tim Douglas might still be toiling. Maybe he would be curious about what happened to Grace McCreary. Maybe he could tell Josie how to reach Matthew. Maybe, if Josie was real lucky, Matthew would be there, too.
    God help him if he was burning the midnight oil.

    ''Can I help you?''
    Josie looked around the seemingly empty office only to find she wasn't alone after all. A woman was nearly hidden behind the mountain of envelopes. Her head popped up and the tower of paper started to tumble. With an uncomfortable laugh she righted the mess and grinned at Josie. The woman was passingly attractive and had the ridiculous aura of a true believer: exhausted, befuddled, yet radiating a lightness of being that only comes from being brainlessly in love with a man, his politics or both.
    ''I'm looking for Matthew McCreary,'' Josie said.
    ''Oh, he's. . .''
    ''Matthew is out, Ms. Bates.''
    The woman looked over her shoulder. Tim Douglas smiled at Josie as he put his hand on the woman's shoulder. ''It's okay Francis. I'll take care of this lady. Why don't you go on home.''
    ''Oh, I couldn't possibly. These need to get out tomorrow and I'm so far behind.''
    ''I'm going to have to tell Matthew that you're working too hard. You know how he feels about people giving too much.'' Tim lectured lightly, got her on her feet smoothly and moved her to the door. ''I'd hate to have to ask him to talk to you privately about wearing yourself out on his behalf.''
    ''But I don't mind at all. . .''
    Francis's face brightened at the prospect a few minutes alone with Matthew McCreary. But it was not to be. Josie didn't hear the rest of the conversation as Tim steered Francis out the door. He returned with an apologetic smile, his hands clasped together, asking Josie's pardon for keeping her waiting.
    ''Sorry about that. But, hey, I owe you an apology. I guess I should have stuck around the police station to see if you needed any help. My fault. I just didn't know what the protocol is in a situation like this.''
    ''I didn't need any help,'' Josie said, unimpressed and unconvinced of his chagrin. ''Grace might have liked someone to wave at her when they took her off to jail, though. Maybe someone to hand her a tissue when she was fingerprinted. You know, a friend – or a relative – someone who cared that she'd just been arrested for murder.''
    To his credit, Tim Douglas had the decency to blush before he engaged Josie again.
    ''I didn't know it would be so serious. I figured it was a mistake. Listen, she's got support. She's