I shook my head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The police were planning to arrest you for your mother’s murder. They were waiting for corroborating evidence to back it up. Even your boyfriend thought you were guilty when he first met you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read your file. Just like I read your juror file to get your address.”

“I have a file?”

“You were a suspect. Of course you have a file. But answer my question: who helped you clear your name?”

Who helped me? Not Joe. Not until the end, and by then I’d figured out most of the pieces myself—even if most of my figurin’ was an accident. Not Violet. She was too wrapped up in her own family. “Me.”

“That’s right. You. You figured out that Daniel Crocker was behind all of it. You shot him and apprehended him. You stood up for yourself. Why can’t you let Bruce Decker stand up for himself? Why do you feel responsible for his justice?”

His questions were making my head hurt. “I don’t know.”

He pulled into my driveway and shut off the engine. He peered into my face, his gaze intense. “Rose, I don’t think you realize the danger you put yourself into tonight. You are not a police detective. Playing Nancy Drew could get you hurt or worse.”

I squared my shoulders, indignant at his lecture. “Well maybe if the Henryetta Police Department did their job, I wouldn’t have to. Did I do anything illegal?”

He leaned his arm on the steering wheel and exhaled. Goodness, even that sounded stuffy coming from him. “No, since you’re no longer on the jury, what you did wasn’t illegal.”

“So why did you come get me?”

“I told you, Neely Kate called me and told me that she couldn’t—”

“Yeah, I know about that part. Why did you come get me?”

“Because I know about Skeeter Malcolm. You don’t want to mess with him, Rose.”

“Do you think he could have killed Frank Mitchell? Was he Frank’s bookie?”

Leaning his head back against the headrest, he groaned. “Will you just forget about Frank Mitchell and Bruce Decker for one minute and listen to me? Skeeter Malcolm is very protective of his business, and you were there snooping around and askin’ questions. Malcolm has no idea why but now, thanks to me, he knows your first name. It won’t take much digging on his part to put two and two together and find out who you are. I don’t think you should stay home alone tonight. Why don’t you go inside and grab some things and I’ll drop you off somewhere.”

Where in the world was I gonna go? Not Violet’s, things were still too tense, and there was no one else to stay with. I was too tipsy to drive to Little Rock. I lifted my chin and tried to look dignified. “Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Deveraux, but I think I’ll be fine here.”

“I think we’re past formalities at this point, Rose. Call me Mason.”

“Well, thank you, Mason.” His name felt weird rolling off my tongue. “But I just want to go inside my house and go to bed.”

“I’m not sure that’s safe.”

“Why? Because Skeeter Malcolm killed Frank Mitchell and now he’s coming to shut me up?”

“Will you let that go? Bruce Decker killed Frank Mitchell.”

I grabbed the car door handle, so angry I could spit. “You asked me why I was fighting for Bruce Decker when he wasn’t fightin’ for himself. Well, I’m doin’ it because it’s the right thing to do. You say you became an assistant district attorney because you want justice. If you were really wanting justice, you’d be figurin’ out who the real murderer is.” I pushed the door open then turned to face him again. “Thank you for coming to my assistance. And I’m sorry for my rudeness, both tonight and in the past.”

He sighed. “I’m sure I deserved every bit of it.”

“Nevertheless, I’m sorry.”

“Will you please consider going somewhere else tonight?”

I paused, my back to him, my feet out the door and on the driveway. “I have nowhere else to go.” Why did I admit that?

Damn beer.

He sighed again and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Then I’ll see about getting the police to do some drive-bys. Just to be on the safe side.”

“The Henryetta Police are gonna be thrilled about that.”

“They’ll deal with it. Here.” He handed me a business card with a phone number written in ink. “My cell phone is on there. Call me if something happens. Anything.”

“Why?”

He groaned in frustration. “That again? Because I told that jerk your name. If he comes looking for you, it’s partly my fault.”

I climbed out of his car. “Thank you and goodnight Mr—er, Mason.”

“Good night, Rose. And please be careful.”

He stayed in the driveway until I was in the house and the lights were on. I let Muffy out, but encouraged her to hurry up and do her business. I checked my cell phone while I waited for her outside. I had several missed calls, mostly from Neely Kate, one from Violet and three from the number written on Mr. Deveraux’s—Mason’s—business card. Thankfully, no calls from Joe. I wasn’t ready to tell him what happened. I knew I’d have to tell him, just not tonight.

I lay in bed, half-terrified someone would break in to get me. I hadn’t lived with that fear since I was in the mess with Momma’s murder, and I really hadn’t missed it. Muffy snuggled against my body. I swore she glared at me before a stench filled the air.