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.”