Just how bad he didn’t know.
“Brinley, how would you like to take a little drive?”
Jason rubbed the back of his neck as her frown deepened. “It’s kind of late. Where did you want to go?”
If he was going to eat this shit sandwich, he might as well take a big bite.
“The police station. My brother would like to ask you a few questions.”
Chapter Two
‡
It had taken a good five minutes of persuading to convince Brinley that Jason wasn’t kidding. At first she’d laughed as if it was all a macabre joke. Then her expression had turned to horror when she’d realized he was serious.
Someone was dead and the police wanted to talk to her about it.
“I’ll get you something to drink.” Jason patted her shoulder, stiff and rigid under his palm. Her face was pale and her gaze darted around the interrogation room, here and there, trying to take in everything. If she’d ever been in a police station before Jason would kiss a tarantula.
He left her sitting in the gray room by herself, just the lone woman, a table and two chairs, sitting opposite each other. At least there were a couple of windows but the blinds were pulled closed. It was dreary and depressing and he wanted to get back to her as quickly as possible. But first he needed a few answers from his brother.
He grabbed West’s arm and dragged him into the hall, shutting the door behind him.
“You said you’d give me the details when you saw me. So talk.”
West glanced at the door to the interrogation room before answering. “I’ve got a dead body at the Tremont Motor Inn. Looks like someone took a cannon to the guy’s chest.”
Jason rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath to keep his impatience under control. Sometimes West could be a real pain in the ass.
“Do you remember that time I tied you to the ceiling fan when you were five? It was because you were doing exactly what you’re doing now. Will you just fucking tell me what’s going on? What does this have to do with Brinley?”
West flashed a smile and chuckled at the memory. “I remember Mom and Dad were so mad you had to clean out the horse stalls for a month. Good times.”
“I swear I’ll do it ag–”
West waved the threat away. “I’ll tell you. Damn, you’re wound tight these days. You should meditate or some shit like that. Anyway, the dearly departed was clutching a piece of paper in his hand when we found him. It was the address of your new neighbor. Right now she’s the only lead I have in this murder case. Hopefully she was a friend of the victim and might have an idea who did this.”
A wave of relief ran through Jason’s body and he sagged against the door. “Then you don’t think…”
“I don’t think anything yet. I need to talk to her and find out what she knows.”
“I want to be there.”
Brinley had looked terrified when she’d sat down. There was no way Jason was leaving her alone.
“If she’s okay with it, I’m okay. Let’s get this done.”
*
What had started as a pleasant evening and dinner had turned into a nightmare.
Senior Detective Westin Anderson, who had a strong family resemblance to his brother, really did want to talk to Brinley about a murder. Jason hadn’t been kidding and she hadn’t given him an easy time when he’d delivered his news. She couldn’t imagine knowing anything about a murder in a town she’d only lived in for a month.
Frankly, there wasn’t one good thing about this entire situation.
Two cans of root beer were placed on the table by Jason who then perched on the window ledge, stretching out his long legs. Feeling railroaded into coming here tonight, Brinley refused to look him in the eye. He’d followed her closely all the way here when she’d refused to let him drive her, even trying to guide her with a hand on her elbow when they’d entered the building. She’d shaken him off, marching up to the receptionist desk, completely ignoring him.
But of course he knew everyone in the whole damn building and they treated him like a long lost king, fawning all over him. Why they were acting that way she had no idea, and frankly she had bigger problems to worry about.
West popped open a can and slid it across to her before opening one for himself. “As Jason told you we have a murder victim that we’d like to talk to you about. The man was staying in room twelve at the Tremont Motor Inn. Do you know this gentleman?”
West showed her a photo that had to have been taken post-death and her stomach twisted in her abdomen. Ghastly pale, the man had dark hair and looked to be in his mid-twenties.
Her mouth suddenly dry, she shook her head and reached for the root beer with a trembling hand. “No. I’ve never seen him before.”
Placing the photo back into the file folder, he pulled out a small plastic bag. “His name is Roger Gaines. He’s twenty-six and lives Billings. Does that ring any bells?”
From the corner of her eye she could see Jason shifting as if he was anxious for her reply.
“No,” she said forcefully, wanting this questioning to come to an end. Curling up in her own bed in her own home sounded like heaven right now. “I said I don’t know him, and I’ve never been to Billings.”
Sweat had begun to pool on the back of her neck and her heart pounded so loudly she was sure both West and Jason could hear it. Trying desperately to relax, she concentrated on her breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
It didn’t help much. She was terrified. She had no friends in this town and no one to defend her from a false charge. Moving away from Chicago and her family and friends suddenly seemed like the height of stupidity.
“Does this look familiar?”
West held out the plastic bag for her inspection. Inside was a slip of paper with her address scrawled on it. The paper was plain white and the writing in blue pen. It couldn’t have been more generic.
“No. I didn’t write it if that’s what you’re asking. I told you I don’t know this guy.”
Jason’s brother wore an inscrutable expression that made her want to toss the root beer can at his head. She had no idea if he believed her or if he thought she was a raving ax murderer let loose on the good citizens of Tremont.
“Would you be willing to give us a handwriting sample?”
In the process of taking a drink when he asked the question, Brinley’s throat tightened up, making it hard to swallow the sweet liquid. This guy obviously thought she was a killer.
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“Let me ask you a question,” West said instead of answering her own query. “Where were you about eight o’clock tonight?”
“She was with me.” Jason had answered so quickly she hadn’t had a chance to respond. He moved away the two steps from the window to the table and leaned forward, his palms on the smooth surface, looking his brother in the eye. “She was with me or in my sight since about seven this evening. What’s the estimated time of death?”
West retreated from his brother’s intensity, leaning back in his chair to put distance between them. “Preliminary estimates put the time of death between eight and nine tonight.”
For the first time since Jason took that phone call, Brinley felt like she could actually breathe. “Then you have to know that I didn’t have anything to do with this.” She stood, the chair scraping on the gray tile. “Can I go now?”
West dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Ms. Snow, I can’t hold you here. You can leave at any time. But I’m asking that you stay. You are the only link to a dead man.”
Brinley threw her hands up, tired of the cat and mouse bullshit that this man had been playing. “I don’t know him. I don’t know how I can help you.”
Jason straightened and began to pace the room. “Is there anyone that you can think of that was coming to visit you? A contractor maybe? Perhaps he’s someone you met briefly in Chicago. Or a friend of a friend?”
Sighing, she fell back into the chair
and held her hand out. “A contractor from Billings? That seems far-fetched. Okay, let me see the photo again.”
The cop handed it to her and she grimaced as she studied the still, pale features, looking for any sign of recognition. She was stunned by how young he looked, his pasty skin completely unlined with just a hint of baby fat in his cheek and neck. But she still didn’t know who he was or why he had her address in his hand.
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know him,” she admitted in defeat, handing the photo back. “Maybe he had the wrong address. Maybe he was coming to see someone else on the street. He could have been coming to see Jason.”
West smiled at his brother and handed him the picture. “She’s got a point. Do you recognize him? Is he one of your perps maybe freshly out of prison, coming to make a personal visit?”
“Perps?” Brinley frowned, her gaze going back and forth between the men. “What does he mean by that? Are you some kind of detective too?”
Jason shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I used to be with the DEA. I’m retired.”
“You look pretty young to be retired,” she retorted, knowing full well he wasn’t telling her the whole truth by the way he looked everywhere but directly at her.
“I have a consulting business. Can we get back to this case? What do we know about the victim, West? If we knew something about him we might be able to make some sort of a connection to something in Brinley’s life.”
“Or yours,” she reminded him. “Or anyone on that street.”
“I think for the time being we are going to have to assume that the address in his hand was correct,” Jason stated, rubbing his chin in thought. “We have to figure out the link between you and Roger Gaines.”
From the set of Jason’s jaw she wasn’t going to win this argument.
And she was still annoyed with him. She couldn’t forget that either. Except the anger that she had felt earlier had drained away, leaving a little fear and a bunch of curiosity. She needed to know why someone had her address in his hand.
And why someone had wanted him dead.
“So what do we do next?”
“You don’t do anything. The police start investigating the victim. Family. Friends. Try and find out why he was here in Tremont.” He pointed to her. “You stay out of the way and be available to answer questions if needed.”
Brinley turned to West who was watching the back and forth with interest. “So after dragging me down here and practically accusing me of murder, you’re sending me home with a pat on the head? You cannot be serious.”
West Anderson grinned, showing off the same dimple in his right cheek that Jason sported. “Good news. You have an iron clad alibi and you’re not a suspect, Ms. Snow. I suggest you do as Jason said. Go back to your life and be available when we have more information. I want to thank you for coming down here and putting up with this questioning. You were very understanding and polite despite the circumstances. If you think of anything that could help us just give me a call.” West stood and slapped his brother on the back. “I was hoping you would help us on this one. I’m short a man who’s out on medical leave.”
“I’ll call Jared and get him to do some deep background on our victim.” Jason punched a note into his phone. “I’d like to see the crime scene as well.”
“I can get you in tomorrow morning. Meet me there about nine.” West smiled at Brinley. “Thanks again for coming in. If we find anything that links to you we’ll be in touch.”
The detective strode out of the room, leaving her and Jason alone. He finished tapping something into his phone and finally looked up. “Are you ready to go? You’ve got to be exhausted after going through this. You did great, by the way. You handled it perfectly.”
Brinley’s fingers tightened on the root beer can as she fought the urge to toss it at Jason’s head, in addition to his brother’s.
“Since I’ve never been dragged into a police station, interrogated like a criminal, and then been given a gigantic never mind, it’s good to hear that I didn’t mess things up.”
Her tone dripped sarcasm and she didn’t care. These two men acted like this happened every day.
Maybe for them it did, but not for her.
“I can see that you’re upset.” Jason placed his hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off. “But see this from their point of view. West had no choice but to call you down here and question you. He would have been derelict in his duties if he hadn’t. Right now you’re the only clue.”
She didn’t like being a clue. But she also didn’t like being mad. It wasn’t the most productive of emotions.
“I’m just not happy about any of this. This guy had my address in his hand. Why? What did he want with me? And why did someone kill him? It makes my head hurt.”
“That’s what I intend to find out,” Jason said gently. “I know you don’t know me very well but please trust me on this. I’m going to do everything I can to solve this case.”
Brinley didn’t want to talk anymore. She needed to be alone to sort through everything that had happened.
“I’m going home. I have a headache.”
“Of course. I just need to talk to West again and then I’ll follow you. Why don’t you wait outside for me? Maybe the fresh air will help your headache.”
Jason disappeared around a corner and Brinley grabbed her purse and exited the building. She needed a bath, a glass of wine, and a good night’s sleep but she’d settle for two out of three. With one phone call her world had been turned upside down. And it wouldn’t be right again until she knew where she fit in this mystery.
Chapter Three
‡
Jason cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear as he poured his morning cup of coffee. He hadn’t slept well – again – and it was going to take at least two or three cups to really get going today.
“So what did you find?” he asked Jared Monroe. Jared was a former small town sheriff that had joined Jason as a partner in his new law enforcement consulting business. Currently located in Seattle with his wife, he was a computer geek who could find the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Jason had called him last night after he’d seen Brinley to her home and poured her a glass of wine. She’d been upset – and rightly so – about being questioned. Hopefully she was feeling better this morning.
“I’m still working on it but I do have some information. Roger Gaines was twenty-six years old and lived in the apartment above the garage in his brother’s house in Billings. His parents are dead and I couldn’t find any other relatives other than the brother, Stuart Gaines, age thirty. He’s married to one Lisa Johnson Gaines. She’s a special education teacher. No kids. Roger graduated two years ago with a degree in psychology from the University of Montana. From what I can see he’s had a series of entry level jobs in restaurants and retail establishments, the last one about six months ago.”
“A college graduate and he worked minimum wage? No wonder he lived in his brother’s garage. Anything else?”
“From what I can tell from his Twitter posts he liked to sleep late during the week. He has several unpaid parking tickets in Missoula but no arrest record. He does have a car registered in his name – a white 2003 Toyota Camry – that looks like it used to belong to his brother.”
Jason took a gulp of the steaming brew, almost burning his tongue. “Brinley’s a teacher too. Maybe there’s some connection there.”
He was grasping at straws but that’s all they had at the moment. The connection between Gaines and Brinley could be whisper thin.
“Did you do that other thing we talked about?” Jason asked. He’d hated to do it but he didn’t have a choice.
He’d asked Jared to investigate Brinley. And he felt like a total shit about it. He felt guilty about going behind her back even though he shouldn’t. He was doing his damn job. Sure, he could ask her but she might leave something important out. Better to have an unbiased third-party doing the investigating.
&nbs
p; “I’m working on that now. I’ll have more for you later today.” There was a pause before Jared spoke again. “Just how personal do you want me to get?”
“Very personal. Money, credit, the whole works. I need to know why Gaines had Brinley’s address in his hand.”
“It could have absolutely nothing to do with why he was murdered,” Jared warned. “It could have been random. Or maybe a drug deal or robbery gone bad.”
Random crimes were a bitch to solve unless they had good forensics. If Gaines was shot for a reason Jason would find it.
“I’ll know more this morning when I get a look at the crime scene. The autopsy should be today as well.”
“Then I’ll let you get to it. I’ll touch base later today.”
After hanging up Jason topped up the travel mug and grabbed his keys off the counter before heading to his truck.
For the first time in a long while he had a purpose. A goal.
It felt damn good.
*
Brinley had barely slept the night before but she made sure she was showered and dressed by eight forty-five the next morning, a cup of coffee under her belt. She was determined to accompany Jason to the crime scene today to learn more about Roger Gaines and why he might have been coming to see her.
All night she’d tossed and turned, the man’s ghostly face from the photo haunting any attempt to fall asleep. She’d never seen him before. Never heard his name. But there had to be some connection. She couldn’t rest until she found out what it was.
Slinging her gigantic handbag over her shoulder, she grabbed her car keys and pulled the front door closed. The lock clicked into place and Brinley waved at Fran Kelly, the woman who lived in the house on the other side. She had an adolescent daughter who was involved in several extra-curricular activities that kept both mother and child very busy. The husband, on the other hand, appeared to be the epitome of laid back and mellow, watching his wife bustle around with loving indulgence.
Damsel in Danger (Danger Incorporated Book 1) Page 2
