The Collector by Nora Roberts Page B

insisted. “What was he wearing when you found him?”
    â€œMr. Archer, we have questions.”
    â€œYou told them what you saw?” he asked Lila.
    â€œYes, of course. You mean the fist, the dark sleeve? Yes.” She paused a moment. “Oliver wasn’t wearing a dark shirt, was he?”
    â€œYou saw a flash of movement,” Waterstone reminded her. “In a dimly lit room, and through binoculars.”
    â€œThat’s true, but in that flash I saw a dark sleeve, and if Oliver wasn’t wearing a dark shirt, he didn’t push her. I should’ve seen his face. Ash said Oliver was six-one. Why didn’t I see some of his face over her head when he had her against the window?”
    â€œIf you remember your statement,” Fine said patiently, “you said it happened very fast, that you were more focused on her.”
    â€œThat’s all true, too, but I should’ve seen some of his face. I shouldn’t have seen a dark sleeve—not if Oliver Archer pushed her.”
    â€œBut you also didn’t see anyone else in the apartment.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t.”
    Fine shifted to Ash. “Was your brother in any trouble? Do you know of anyone who’d want to hurt him?”
    â€œNo, not that I know of. Trouble didn’t stick to him.”
    â€œAnd you never met Sage Kendall, whom he was involved with,living with, who purchased one of your paintings for a five-figure price tag? Upper five-figure.”
    â€œI knew I couldn’t afford it,” Lila muttered.
    â€œI never met her, and he only recently told me about her—as I told you in my statement yesterday. He didn’t push her. He didn’t kill himself. I know why I’m sure of that, but why are you thinking it?”
    â€œYou had some problems with your brother,” Waterstone pointed out. “Your half brother.”
    â€œHe was a frustrating pain in the ass.”
    â€œYou’ve got a temper, been known to throw a punch.”
    â€œYeah, can’t deny it. I never threw one at Oliver—it would’ve felt like punching a puppy. And I’ve never hit a woman, never will. Check on it, dig into it, look all you want, but tell me why you’re not sure this is what it was made to look like.”
    â€œI can go outside or into the other room if you don’t want to talk about it in front of me.”
    Fine just looked at Lila, then shifted back to Ash. “And whatever we discuss, you’ll pass right on to her.”
    â€œShe’s done the right thing all the way down the line. And she showed a complete stranger genuine compassion when she could’ve just told me to leave her alone, she’d already done enough. Why wouldn’t I tell her? And she doesn’t leave the room for anyone.”
    Lila could only blink at that. She couldn’t think of the last time someone had stood up for her—or had to.
    â€œYour brother had a mix of alcohol and barbiturates in his system,” Fine said.
    â€œI told you, he’d never have mixed pills with alcohol.”
    â€œHe had enough of both that the ME believes he would have OD’d if he didn’t receive medical attention. The ME’s findings are that your brother was unconscious at his time of death.”
    The hard look on Ash’s face never changed. Lila knew, as she was watching him.
    â€œOliver was murdered.”
    â€œWe are now pursuing this as a double homicide.”
    â€œSomeone killed him.”
    â€œI’m so sorry.” Going with instinct, Lila leaned over, laid a hand on his. “I know it’s what you believed all along, but it’s . . . I’m so sorry, Ashton.”
    â€œWrong place, wrong time?” he said slowly. “Is that what it was? They put him out, but they smack her around, scare her, hurt her, push her. They finish him off so it looks like he killed himself in regret or despair. But she was the one they hurt,