The detective standing in front of me looked like a television cop on the best shows; tall, dark, handsome and upset. Unfortunately he also looked very familiar. I’d seen all too much of Ray Fernandez last winter when Dennis had been killed. Ray was the Ventura County Sheriff’s Department homicide detective who had briefly considered arresting me for my husband’s murder. After that he even more seriously tried to pin the blame on Heather. Fortunately he came to his senses before making a terrible mistake. After several weeks that were traumatic for all of us after Dennis’s death, he’d found the person who had actually killed him. And although I’d been a big part of helping him solve the murder, he hadn’t seemed real appreciative at the time. “I had nothing to do with this one, honest,” I told him, putting up my palms in a classic protestation of innocence. “I just found him.” “That’s enough right there to have me concerned, Ms. Harris. Even finding a body gets you involved.”
