"Katy, it's a frog."

My brain was close to short-circuiting. I couldn't process that I'd carried around a cement frog. A medium-sized, heavy cement frog. Why? Had I offended Katy somehow? Was she mad at me? Did I do something to upset her and this was my punishment?

"Do you think Pierce will like it?" Katy asked, ignoring my frog comment and all the internal dialogue.

I really considered screaming. Totally justifiable, in my opinion, but Katy still had stars in her eyes. I figured if she was this excited over the stupid frog, she must have considered it important, even if I didn't.

"To be honest, hun, I'm not sure it matches his décor." He had billionaire style. Katy's frog looked like it belonged in a rock garden sounded by gnomes.

She tipped her head and looked at the frog from another angle, running her finger over his round head. "You don't think so?"

I didn't have evidence, but something told me cement frog statue didn't mesh with beach front mansion vibes. "Does he like frogs?"

Katy chuckled. "They're kind of our thing."

I nodded. Okay, that made a bit more sense. "Is it for his front garden or to put by the pool?"

Katy clutched her chest like I suggested she throw the frog in the kitchen trash. "No, it's a paperweight for his desk."

Um. Katy had lost her mind.

As the person who lugged that damn thing around for days, it had to weigh a good twenty pounds. Maybe more. It stood at least two feet high.

How heavy was his paper?

Regardless, Pierce's paperweight wasn't my problem. I had bigger fish to fry. With Katy still gazing at her weird-ass frog, I stood and brushed off my jeans, signaling it was time for me to leave.

I had to get out of there before she gave me another box.

"Oh, wait, Vonnie. I owe you for box sitting." Katy fished through her purse and straightened out five hundred-dollar bills.

She tried to pass them to me, but I held up a hand. "Katy, that's way too much."

Carrying around the damn box was super annoying, but I wouldn't take five-hundred dollars for the service. Heck, I considered Katy one of my best friends. Truth be told, I'd do it for free. That's what friends did. Even if I kind of wanted to kill her.

She waved her hand and shoved the money in my palm. "Don't worry about it. It's Pierce's money."

"Oh, okay then." I'd definitely accept the cash from Pierce. He wouldn't miss it.

There were perks to a best friend dating a billionaire who was madly head-over-heels in love with her. Pierce wasn't the only billionaire living in Pelican Bay, but he was the original and he knew what dating Katy meant.

I folded over the cash and stuck it in my back pocket, repositioning my phone and getting a glance at the time.

"Crap, I have to go," I said. Anderson would be off work soon, and I had to talk to him immediately. With a murderer on the loose, it was best not to wait.

Katy carried her frog statue to the front door as she walked me out.

Without having to worry about Katy's box or stopping to let Not Brent pee on every bush, I made it to the police station in record time. Three whole minutes. It was a small town and Katy lived close to the center.

Exhaust was already emanating from the back of the unmarked black Jeep Grand Cherokee in the police station parking lot. Anderson's car might not have had Pelican Bay Police written on it, but we all knew it was Anderson. The town's only detective didn't stand a chance at blending in.

We made eye contact in the parking lot as I slammed Rachel to a stop in a space next to him. My eyes widened as Anderson's hand moved to put the SUV into gear. Shit, he was going to leave.

I was already out of my car as his lurched forward. Without thinking, I jumped on his vehicle and sprawled my arms across the cold hood. He slammed on the brakes and my knuckles hit his window wipers.

Ouch.

Anderson put the Grand Cherokee in park with a jerk of his hand and opened his door, looking ready to kill me. "What in the fucking hell, Vonnie? I could have run you over."

Doubtful since I was on top of his car, not under it, but whatever.

"Anderson, we need to talk."

He rubbed at his forehead. "The only person you need to talk with is a therapist."

Rude.

I slid off Anderson's car and popped open the passenger side door. If we were going to chat, I wanted to do it somewhere warm. I'd been out in the cold enough for one day.

"Aren't you coming?" I yelled through his open door when he didn't move.

He was mumbling to himself but finally sat in the driver's seat and closed his door. "Okay, lay it on me so I can go home and work on forgetting I live in this town voluntarily."

I opened my mouth and then paused. "You look stressed."

Anderson turned his full attention to me. His forehead crinkled and his eyes strained. "Gee, I wonder why."

"Me?" He was saying I stressed him out? I wasn't the one who tried to arrest him for borrowing one tiny piece of evidence. I left them the rest of the box.

"Get a move on, Vonnie, or get out."

It took me a full twenty-three and a half minutes to outline my thoughts on Jalinda's murder case. He didn't have a bulletin board, photos of her family, or red yarn in his vehicle. I suggested he keep a box of basic supplies in the back, but he didn't seem like he planned a Target run for the essentials. His loss.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked, after finishing up my murder plot.

It was a genius plan. If I ever wanted to murder someone, it was a solid option. Well, unless my theory proved true-which it would-then I'd have to take it out of the available plans list. If someone else did it, it would be too easy for them to figure out a second time.

Anderson released a deep breath, fogging up his window. "How many true crime podcasts are you listening to every week?"

"Anderson," I sighed and cocked my head to the side. "You know this has potential."

He grabbed his steering wheel and white knuckled the leather. "Fine, I'll agree with it."

"You will?" I mean, he should and I suspected he would, but I figured we'd need another twenty minutes to work out logistics. Make a few fake promises about staying out of trouble. Threaten him. The usual.

He rubbed his forehead-something he'd been doing a lot during our conversation. "I'll be the one who needs a therapist after this."

"I can give you a few great recommendations if you want them," I said, staring out the window at the light snow falling while we chatted. "You believe me that Jimmy's mom killed Jalinda?"

I had to agree it sounded crazy, but when I laid it all out, the signs pointed to Jimmy's mother as the vengeful killer. Anderson stared out the window, but I smiled looking at the side of his face. Finally, someone took me seriously.

Anderson shook his head. "No, not really, but I believe if I don't help you do this, you'll either keep nagging me or, worse, try to get a confession yourself."

He wasn't dead wrong.

I moved the heat vent away from my eye and blinked so my eyeballs didn't dry out. "They're basically the same thing."

Either way, it was perfect.

"There are conditions," he said. I expected nothing less. "You get one wire and ten minutes. If you can't get a confession from her by then, I pull the plug."

"Sounds great. Let's go!" I hit his dash in a hurry fashion. No time like the present to bring in a murderer.