Page 52 of Chilled
“For DUI?” Nick asked, although he already knew it was because of the assault on Robin Rutledge.
“Yeah,” Jason said, his eyes shifting back and forth between Nick and Brenna. “Is that all you want to know, because I have to get ready for work?”
“Not quite,” Brenna said. “You still haven’t told us where you were the rest of the days.”
Jason inhaled and blew out a hard breath. “I don’t believe this. Did you just come to harass me, or what?”
“No.” Nick gave him a hard look. “We only want answers.”
“I worked at The Computer Store Saturday all day, came home and watched a football game on TV the rest of the evening. Sunday, I didn’t do anything but watch sports. It was too damn cold to get out. Monday and Tuesday, I worked, came home, watched TV and went to bed.” Conlin shifted from one foot to the other, and his eyes never made direct contact with either agent.
Nick would have bet his paycheck Conlin was lying or omitting a lot of the truth.
“Is there anyone who can verify you were at work and who would know you were in your apartment during those times?”
“My boss could verify the work. But I was on my own at night. Is this going to be a problem? Are you going to hit me up with murder charges because I don’t have an alibi?”
“Only if you’re guilty, Mr. Conlin.” Brenna raised an eyebrow. “Only if you’re guilty…”
“This is bullshit.” Jason Conlin started to slam the door in their faces.
Nick stepped forward. “Mr. Conlin, have you ever harmed a woman in any way?”
Jason sputtered, and his face turned red. “That’s none of your goddam?—”
Nick raised his hand and stared hard at Jason. “Mr. Conlin, just answer the question.”
“She put you up to this, didn’t she?” Jason jammed his hands into his pocket, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
“Who put us up to what?”
“That bitch, Robin.” He glared at Brenna then Nick. “She sent you here to harass me, didn’t she?”
“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” Brenna’s brows rose, her tone calm and cool. “Maybe you’d care to elaborate?”
“I got nothing more to say. If you want me to answer any more questions, you’ll have to go through my lawyer.” Conlin stepped back and slammed the door with a resounding thud.
Nick rubbed his hands together and took the steps leading down to the pathway. “Where to next?” He stopped and waited for Brenna to precede him off the metal and concrete landing.
“We check in with Robin Rutledge,” she replied, her voice soft, yet firm.
When they reached ground level, he gripped Brenna’s elbow and assisted her over a patch of slushy ice. As soon as she could, she pulled away from his grasp and completed the rest of the short walk to his car on her own.
Nick opened Brenna’s car door. “I think our Mr. Conlin wasn’t telling us everything.” He rounded the car and slid in next to Brenna.
“Me, too.” Brenna clicked her seatbelt in place.
She was too quiet and entirely too rigid for Nick’s liking. His fingers itched to massage the stiffness from her shoulders and smooth the frown from her brow. He shifted the car into drive and jammed his foot onto the accelerator, spinning melting snow out from under the tires. With a soft curse beneath his breath, he let off the gas and eased toward the parking lot exit. How could he stand to be near her and not touch her? All the more reason not to get personal with a team member.
When Nick glanced toward Brenna, a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.
The little bit of humor made his heart race and, at the same time, made him angry. “What are you laughing about?”
“Nothing.”
“No, really.” He stopped before driving out onto the street and frowned at her. “What are you laughing about?”
She sighed and shook her head. “You. Me. The situation.”
