Under His Protection. Amy Fetzer J.

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      Something inside Nash froze. “Describe it please.”

      “It was my grandmother’s. It’s pale green with hand-painted irises. It’s the reason I got here so quickly this morning. I was on my way here to get it back.”

      “Why did you leave it?”

      “I didn’t. It was in my hair, which I had in a ponytail. The scarf was tied around the rubber band to hide it. It must have come undone. It’s silk and slippery.”

      Nash wrote, the notebook sliding on the highly polished table. The business card she’d given him showed and he flipped it over.

      Lisa thought she saw sadness flicker in his eyes.

      “The Enchanted Garden, that’s your business?”

      “Yes.” She frowned. “Didn’t you already know that?”

      Nash shook his head.

      “I started it up about ten months ago. It’s on my land around the house and it’s doing really well.” Her brows knit. “I don’t get it. Your brother Temple buys some of his plants for his landscaping business from me. I thought you knew.”

      “I knew he used this nursery, but he never mentioned it was yours.”

      “Maybe he thought he was being disloyal to his older brother by doing business with me. I know how you Couviyon brothers stick together.”

      “Obviously, Temple has his own set of rules.”

      “I know, he’s an outrageous flirt.”

      She was trying to ease the tension in the room. But Nash could feel it thicken the air. He tossed the card down and rose, moving to the door and speaking to the officer posted outside, who moved off to do his bidding. Nash waited, glancing back at her only once. She couldn’t have done this, he thought.

      “Why didn’t you ever come by to say hello, Nash?”

      “I knew you were here, Lisa.” He didn’t look at her. “I didn’t want to open that door again.” It hurt too much, he thought, then realized it still did.

      “And saying hello, how’s your mama, would have been torture?”

      “Yeah, it would have.”

      Lisa’s lips tightened. Well, that said a lot, she thought.

      “Why didn’t you come to me?” he asked.

      “I was still married.”

      Nash simply stared, wondering if she’d been single would they have gotten back together. And in the same moment he remembered that she had dumped him. She’d wanted picket fences and babies, and he couldn’t give her that. Aside from the fact that he’d just taken a bullet in the line of duty and lost his partner, he’d watched the devastation hit the widow and cut a strong woman off at the knees. He couldn’t do that to Lisa.

      The officer returned, interrupting his thoughts and handing him two paper bags. Nash moved back to the table and set them on the floor. He reached into one and pulled out a plastic evidence bag.

      “Is this your scarf?”

      “Yes.” She extended a hand.

      He pulled it back. “Evidence.”

      “What do you mean, evidence? It’s my scarf.”

      “It was found wrapped around the victim’s neck, Lisa.” Her eyes widened, and she went perfectly still. When she sank back into the chair, he asked, “Now do you want to tell me what you argued about?”

      “No, I don’t. It was personal.”

      Nash backed off for now. “Were you angry when you left here?”

      “No, I was just tired, Detective.”

      Nash heard the wall go up between them, even if he couldn’t see it. He returned the plastic envelope to the bag. “Do you make teas?”

      She blinked, taken aback. “Yes, I do. My herb plants grow quickly in this weather, and I have to cut them back. It’s a waste not to do something with the herbs.”

      “And do you sell the teas at your place of business?”

      “Not as a regular commodity, no. I use the cuttings for cooking or rooting new plants. Occasionally I make bath teas, scented bath salts, a couple of mint and catnip drinking teas, and I put them in baskets with a live plant. But it’s not a main part of my business, and it’s time-consuming to put them together. So I make them up as requested.”

      “The baskets are for regular sale?”

      “No, only with the custom orders. They’re handmade, too expensive to make a profit and to keep a reasonable stock of them takes up considerable space.” Lisa glanced at the notes he was furiously writing. “Especially because the humidity can rot them. I run a nursery, not a bath-and-tea shop.”

      “Did you bring one of these custom baskets to the hotel or have it delivered?”

      Her brows knitted. “No.” Peter would have seen any gift as a peace offering. Heck, she thought, her very presence made him believe she wasn’t going to divorce him, although she’d signed the papers weeks before and it had been only a matter of the time line hitting a specified mark. One that had her in deep trouble right now, she suspected.

      “Describe the baskets please.”

      Lisa told him what they looked like, but when she described the brass oval engraved with “Enchanted Garden,” he wilted in his chair. She’d bet her best Kamali pumps that a basket just like one of hers was in that larger bag at his feet.

      “Did you speak to anyone on your way to the Baylor Inn, and did anyone see you enter and or exit the building?”

      That Nash wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t even acknowledge her with so much as a nod as he wrote, made her bristle. “I don’t recall. At the time I didn’t know I’d need an alibi. Now my husband is dead. My ex-husband. And you’ve all but accused me of his murder.”

      “I don’t have enough evidence for charges.”

      Something inside her shattered. “We have nothing more to say to each other.” She stood. “Unless it’s with my lawyer present.”

      It was on the tip of his tongue to say that, by law, he could hold her for questioning. “I’ll need everything you were wearing last night.”

      “Fine. I’ll deliver the clothing to the station within the hour. Are we finished?”

      “For now, yes.”

      Lisa strode to the door. Before she could open it, Nash was there, his hand over her fist.

      Her gaze snapped to his. He could taste her fury, it was so pungent.

      “Back off, Detective.”

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