“Did you check on that?” Joe asked.
LeAnne’s ears heated at being reminded of her trip to Snake’s. “It was a dead end. Marcus said it could have, but there was no way of knowing for sure if it was his. It’s just too common of a rag.”
“I saw one just like it hanging from Blade’s back pocket,” Bob said. “I still say we bring him in, try to rattle his cage.”
Joe stopped his pacing. “On what charge?”
Bob shrugged. “There are ways of getting him to volunteer his time…to answer a few questions.”
Joe’s brows rose. “I want this all done on the level. There’s no room for mistakes on this one. We have a madman running around, and I want him caught. At this point, we can’t assume that the Smith case is even connected to the others. We need to work it separately. See if we have a jealous or spurned boyfriend. I want to dig up everything we can find out about this Smith woman. Then…then, we’ll see if there’s a connection. Let’s not jump the gun because some drug dealer knew her. That’s not enough evidence to convince me there’s a connection.” Joe turned his attention to LeAnne. “What have you dug up on that case so far?”
She cleared her throat. Sheriff Drake would certainly not like what she had to say. “I had Samantha Duncan compile a list of names—old boyfriends.”
“Well, let me see it.”
She handed the paper to the sheriff and he studied it for a few minutes. Finally, he looked up. “I don’t see anything significant. Did you question any of these men?”
“No.”
He handed back the paper. “I suggest you start. Bob can bring in this D’Angelo character.”
“I sort of wanted to be in on that, sir.”
Joe looked from LeAnne to Bob. “You want her there when you question D’Angelo?”
“I think it might be beneficial,” he said, glancing at LeAnne. With Bob’s head turned, Joe could not have seen the wink he gave LeAnne.
“All right, then, you help her with the other case as well, when you’re through with D’Angelo. You get Blade to volunteer to come in—no coercion.”
Bob glanced back at the sheriff with a look of innocence.
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
“All right. Anything else?”
LeAnne swallowed the large lump rising in her throat, threatening her air supply. “Um…one more thing.”
“What’s that?” Joe asked.
“This list of boyfriends. There’s one name not on the list that should be there.”
“Then put it on,” Joe said as he headed for the door.
“I’m not sure you’ll agree, when I tell you who it is.”
Joe turned around. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Who?”
“Tony Hargrove.”
The sheriff’s face turned beet red. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.”
“He just keeps popping up.”
“And how do you know he dated this Smith woman?”
“Samantha told me that she didn’t know this guy’s name, but that Cora talked about a man she dated who rode a red Harley.”
“You haven’t convinced me yet. Red is a pretty popular color.”
“She said this guy was going to be a big-time lawyer someday and his daddy could make it happen. Not to mention the silver spoon in his mouth.”
Joe worried his lower lip between his teeth and rubbed his shaven jaw. His gaze flitted from Bob to her.
Finally, he said, “Still not enough,” and walked out of the office.
“Dammit,” LeAnne said.
“What’s the problem?” Bob asked.
“Tony Hargrove’s name keeps popping up, and the sheriff won’t let me delve into it. He’s made it clear, Hargrove is untouchable.”
“He might be right.”
LeAnne’s gaze snapped to Bob’s.
“I’m just saying, with nothing substantial, you might be borrowing trouble from the judge. If you want to investigate—then do it quietly, LeAnne. Don’t ask for unwanted trouble. We don’t want any doors closed. Besides, right now, I think we have better odds looking at Blade D’Angelo. Something stinks about that man. I say we invite him here for a visit first thing tomorrow.”
Chad Baker poked his head through the door, an impish grin on his face. “Busy?”
“We’re almost through,” LeAnne said.
Bob checked his watch. “It’s eight o’clock, LeAnne. Let’s call it a day.” His back to the county prosecutor, he winked at LeAnne. “You take care of that face,” he said, then left the room without acknowledging the prosecutor.
Chad walked into the room, glaring at Bob as they passed. “What’s his problem?”
LeAnne shrugged, certainly not up for any confrontation.
“You want to get a bite to eat?” Chad asked, turning on his undeniable charm. He pulled a large bottle of white zinfandel from behind his back. “I owe you this. I’m sorry about the other night.”
“Forget it, Chad.” She turned her back on him as she shoved her arms into her jacket.
Chad gently gripped her arm and turned her around. “I can’t. I shouldn’t have hit you.”
“I was out of line. Gallego…”
His pupils contracted. “I really don’t think it’s necessary to bring up his name. It’s done. Let’s just get on with it.”
Chad was right. If they were to move past this, then Snake Gallego would have to be omitted from their conversations. She smiled. “Are we eating in?”
His arm coiled about her waist and drew her flush. Chad’s intentions were evident in his gaze. If they went back to her place, he wouldn’t be going home until morning.
“I thought we’d pick up a pizza. How’s that sound, babe?”
“I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the evening,” she lied, her smile false as images of the man haunting her every thought filtered through her mind.
“Great then, pizza it is.”
* * *
Moments later, LeAnne and Chad were on the sidewalk outside the sheriff’s office. “I’ll see you at home, then,” LeAnne said, briefly kissing his cheek before they parted.
Chad walked toward the street as LeAnne headed for the back of the station where she parked her car. The distant rumble of a motorcycle drew her attention from the alley. Snake Gallego sat tall on his Softail, his silver sunglasses glinting with the setting sun.
He slowly backed his bike from its parking space and, from over the rims of his glasses, glanced at her with what looked like animosity. Then the bike roared to life and he sped down the alley.
A slight tug pulled at her. She shook off the notion that Gallego would have a reason to be mad at her and continued to her car, fumbling in her purse for the keys.
The color red drew her attention. Her heart leapt in her throat. Painted across her windshield, still partially wet, were the words: Straight to HELL. Her eyes flitted back to the spot where Gallego’s bike had been, not more than fifty yards away.
He couldn’t have.
When she turned to go back to the station, she ran smack into the chest of her fiancé, his mouth gaping, his eyes fixed on the red dripping paint.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
“I have to go back into the station. Would you mind hanging around a second and give me a ride home?” Though she felt her outward appearance remained calm, her pulse ran rapid. “I want to have this paint processed—see if it matches the paint from Jillian’s marker.”
“Sure, babe,” Chad said. His hands grasped her shoulders. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, then suddenly realized that Chad was supposed to be on his way to pick up the pizza. “Why did you come back?”
“I forgot to ask what kind of pizza you wanted.” He ran a smooth palm down her cheek. “Look, babe, I’m not so sure this is a good idea for you to continue on this case.”
LeAnne’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“This sick SOB may be coming after you. I
f anything should happen…”
LeAnne shrugged out of his grasp. “This is my job. I can handle myself.”
But she still couldn’t shake the image of Snake on his bike, the way he had looked at her, or the way he had taken off without acknowledging her. Surely, this was not a cruel joke.
“Babe?” Chad asked as he stood close beside her. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “Why don’t you go get the pizza—Hawk’s, then meet me back here in a half hour. I should be finished by then.”
“You’re going to do this now?”
Annoyed, she glared at him. “I’m certainly not going to allow the paint to dry. It’s my job, remember?” Then she walked off, not giving Chad a chance to argue further.
Chapter 21
LeAnne sat at the long table in the conference room, waiting for Bob Reese to show up. She had contacted Blade D’Angelo and politely invited him in for an interview. A lot of ground had to be covered first, because according to Blade, he was in no hurry to be in the same company of that goddam Chief Deputy again. LeAnne had no clue as to what had transpired between the two, nor did she want to know. The less she knew, LeAnne figured, the better off she would be.
Blade’s impending arrival at eleven had her tired, bloodshot eyes from a nearly sleepless night, glancing at the clock. LeAnne had been up most of the night, keyed up, strategizing the interview, and going over every aspect of the case.
She also could not forget the words on her car’s window. Straight to HELL. Or the thought of Marcus possibly being involved in an attempt to scare her.
What other reason could have brought him by to the sheriff’s office? It’s not a likely hangout for one of his reputation.
And if Snake had not been the culprit, then someone intended on putting the fear of God into her. And unfortunately, their plan had worked. LeAnne had glanced over her shoulder quite often, as of late.
Samples of the paint had been scraped and sent to the lab. The compound would be analyzed and compared to the substance scraped from Jillian’s marker. The car’s surface had been dusted for fingerprints, but unfortunately, other than her own and Chad’s, no usable latent could be found. Not that she had expected to find any.
LeAnne ran both hands down her tired face, then leaned back in her chair.
“What time does Blade arrive?” Bob asked, seemingly rested and full of energy as he entered the room, catching her in mid-stretch.
“In about fifteen minutes,” LeAnne said, stifling a yawn.
“Goodness, you could use this more than I.” Bob laughed and handed her the foam cup of coffee he just poured for himself.
LeAnne shared his amusement and accepted the cup. “Thanks. I’ve been up half the night.”
“I take it you and Chad made up,” Bob said as he removed his jacket. He took the large chair at the end of the table.
The size of the chair and the man itself had been strategically placed to what would be Blade’s left, meant to intimidate him, show him who was in charge. LeAnne, though, would sit directly across from him, where she could best be empathetic and maybe coax out pertinent information or a confession. From a legal standpoint, LeAnne planned to cover all bases and protect her case at all costs.
She grinned, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Chad is good at sympathy and understanding when he wants to be. But that’s not why I was up half the night. I was going over this case while he sawed logs.”
“Then maybe tonight you can make up for time lost because of this case.”
“Actually, I’ll be alone tonight. Chad’s flying to Massachusetts this afternoon. He’s speaking at a seminar at the Boston University School of Law—his alma mater—and won’t be back until Wednesday.”
“BUSL, huh? Good school.” He glanced through some of LeAnne’s notes. “You think this will get our man to open up? Sorry, LeAnne, I’m not so sure this will work on Blade.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I say we show him who’s boss—let him know right off the bat who’s calling the shots.”
“Good cop, bad cop?”
Bob grinned lopsidedly. “Except we forget the good cop.”
“I’m not sure that tactic should be used. I really don’t want to chance his walking out of here or calling some hotshot lawyer before we get the information. I still say we should take the soft approach.”
“It’s your case.”
Blade chose that point to walk, more of a cocky gate, really, into the room. His large girth filled the space, causing LeAnne to think maybe she had been wrong. A man of Blade’s imposing size or reputation would never think of Bob Reese as a threat, even if Bob had a way with making larger men cower.
Blade glanced briefly at Bob, then took his seat across from LeAnne.
“I’m not being charged with anything, right?”
“That’s correct,” LeAnne affirmed.
“Then what’s he doing here?” He nodded toward Bob.
“Bob is sitting in as a witness. Do you mind if I tape record this?” Blade’s skeptical gaze took in the small recorder. “Actually, I do.”
“All right, then.” LeAnne laid it aside. “I’ll take notes. But later, when we’re through, I’ll ask you to sign a statement.”
His eyes warily darted back and forth. “I thought you said I wasn’t being charged.”
“I understand your reluctance.” LeAnne leaned in a bit, attempting to make it feel more like a conversation between the two of them. “All I want is get a few questions answered. You’re not being charged with any crime. I want to point out that this interview is totally by your free will. You’ll be read your noncustodial rights, so you understand that you have the right to end this interview at any time and are free to go. There is no reason for you to have a lawyer present or one appointed for you, since you are not under arrest. Is this understood?”
Blade nodded, then was read his rights. He clearly stated he understood his rights and could read and understand the English language.
LeAnne started with a little background information. “How long have you lived in Henry County?”
“All my life.”
“And how old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Parents from here?”
“Yes.”
“Other relatives?
Blade’s forehead wrinkled in a downward frown, showing his perplexity with LeAnne’s line of questioning. “Most of them.”
“And you live on State Route 18 just outside of Hamler?”
“Correct.”
“What’s your occupation, Blade?”
“Is all of this necessary? You asked me here to find out about my personal life? Damn, Lady, all you need do is ask. Hell, if I didn’t have an ol’ lady myself…shoot, man, I might be taking you for a ride sometime.” He winked at her. “On my Harley, that is.”
LeAnne’s face warmed as she again tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “We like to get a little background on everyone we interview. Sometimes this information helps us solve a crime.”
“You said I wasn’t under arrest.”
“And you’re not. We need to know a few facts. I thought, since you’re such close friends with Snake Gallego, you might be able to help us out. What’s your occupation, Blade?”
“I do side jobs for people. Put up porches, fix broken things, that kind of thing.”
“A carpenter of sorts. Ever do any mechanical type work on the side?”
“Sometimes.” He tugged on his ear lobe. “Mostly I work on my own stuff, but I occasionally work on other people’s.”
“You have any hobbies, habits? How do you spend your leisure time?”
Again, his gaze flitted between her and Bob. “Shoot, man, I like to ride my bike. Drink with my buddies. I don’t do any of that reading or exercise bullshit. I don’t have any hobbies—don’t collect nothing, either.”
“You have any prior convictions?”
His face reddened. “Just w
hat are you getting at, lady?”
LeAnne leaned forward. “Please understand, we are only trying to establish a few facts, see if you might have a reason to not be totally truthful with us. But remember, you don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to.”
“Good, then, I don’t want to answer that one.”
“Marcus Gallego. How long have you known him?”
“About ten years.”
“Would you say that you are good friends?”
“Damn near brothers. Snake ain’t got any family.” He patted his chest with his hand. “We’re his family.”
“When you say ‘we’re’—who are you referring to?”
“Me, Balls, Rebel, Kip Lewis, Fred Buckner. I suppose there are others. But those are the closest ones.”
“Fred Buckner, he works with Snake, right?”
“That’s right. Him and his wife, Lindsey.”
LeAnne glanced briefly at Bob, knowing she was about to tread on thin ice. “How about Tony Hargrove?”
Blade chuckled, his eyes turning up at the corners. “Tony? Yeah, Tony’s a wannabe, all right.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s hung around a few times with us bikers—wants to be one of us. It ain’t no secret, though, he screws anything with a vertical smile.”
“Excuse me?” LeAnne asked, not quite understanding his statement. When she glanced at Bob, his expression hadn’t changed except for a hint of amusement.
Blade indicated his lap with his hands, forming a V. “The Y, baby. Man’s supper club.”
LeAnne cleared her throat. “I think I know what you’re getting at.”
“Shoot, every smart man guarded his ol’ lady around that one. Tony Hargrove, he reeks of money—the easy life. And with a face like his, he don’t have any trouble getting pus…uh, I mean women into his bed. Know what I mean?”
Being a first-hand victim of Tony’s charm, LeAnne had an inclination to agree. “Did he ever sleep with any of your little groups’ wives?”
“From what I hear, he’s been ballin’ Fred Buckner’s wife for some time. Ol’ Tony must be crazier than a loon. Fred would kill the little bastard if he got wind.”
Kiss of Deceit Page 20