Book 5 - Page 130 (1/2)

“You didn’t see the shooter?” Grave pressed.

“No. I heard Raúl shout and I got Eva on the ground. It’s protocol for the security team to evacuate at the first sign of trouble. They escorted us away in the opposite direction and I didn’t look back. My focus was on my wife, who was unconscious at the time.”

“You didn’t see Monica Stanton go down?”

Eva’s hand tightened on mine. I shook my head. “No. I had no idea anyone had been injured until several minutes after we left the scene.”

Michna looked at Eva. “At what point did you lose consciousness, Mrs. Cross?”

She licked lips that were starting to crack. “I hit the sidewalk pretty hard. Gideon rolled over me, holding me down. I couldn’t breathe, and then someone covered Gideon. They were both so heavy … I thought I heard two, maybe three shots. I’m not sure. When I came to, I was in the limo.”

“Okay.” Michna nodded. “Thank you.”

Graves unzipped the satchel and pulled out a file folder. Opening it, she pulled out a mug shot and set it on the table facing us. “Do either of you recognize this man?”

I bent closer. Blond with green eyes. A trimmed beard. Average looking.

“Aye,” Angus said, drawing my head around to look at him. “He’s the chap we ran off in Westport, the one who was taking pictures.”

“We’re going to need a statement from you, Mr. McLeod,” Michna advised.

“Of course.” He straightened, his arms crossing. “He’s the one who shot Mrs. Stanton?”

“Yes. His name is Roland Tyler Hall. Have you ever had contact with this man, Mr. Cross? Ever recall speaking with him?”

“No,” I replied, searching my memory and coming up blank.

Eva leaned forward. “Was he stalking her? Some kind of obsession?”

Her questions were softly voiced, her muted grief edged with an icy fury. It was the first spark I’d seen in her since I broke the news. And it came at the moment that I remembered what else I was keeping from her: her mother’s shadowy past. A tangled history that could be the reason Monica was dead now.

Graves began sliding out images, starting with the Westport photos. “It’s not your mother Hall was fixated on.”