Damsel in Danger (Danger Incorporated Book 1) (2 page)

Brinley was a
damn fine cook.

Jason had devoured a tossed salad, two plates of baked ziti, three slices of garlic bread, and was now working on a plate of tiramisu that melted on his tongue. He should have thrown a tennis ball and broken her screen weeks ago.

“Another glass of wine?” Brinley held up the bottle as she settled back into her chair. She’d cleared away the dinner dishes and waved away his offer of help.

“No, thank you. One is my limit, although I’m not planning to drive or anything.”

“I think you’ve eaten too much take out, but I’ll just say thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Despite the fact that they barely knew one another, dinner hadn’t been too awkward. He’d found out she was going to be the new second grade teacher at Tremont Elementary which explained why she was home during the day – summer break. He’d vaguely revealed that he ran a consulting business and that he’d recently left a long-term job. It was all he was willing to tell someone he’d just met.

His plate empty, he sat back in his chair and admired his dinner companion. Long brown hair and trim figure. Not too skinny; she had curves. And muscles. She rode her bike almost every day, coming home tired and sweaty. Tonight she wore a red sundress that displayed a pair of spectacular legs, long and tanned.

Brinley Snow was a very attractive woman.

Jason had been a long time between women. The last female he’d dated hadn’t understood him in the least. There had been a time when that wouldn’t have bothered him, the physical more important than the cerebral. But that was no longer the case. Now if he was going to spend time with a woman he wanted more than an exciting bed partner. He had to be able to talk to her too.

Huck yawned and rolled onto his side, letting Jason know that as far as the Lab was concerned it was time to curl up on his favorite cushion and snooze. He probably should make one more offer to help with the dishes and then make his exit.

He didn’t socialize too much these days. It was almost as if he’d forgotten how to relax and have a good time.

“I can’t believe how much work you’ve done on this house,” Jason observed, taking in the back yard. It looked completely different than when Gail Denton had lived here. “And so quickly too.”

“I could barely move for about a week when I was done but I think it was worth it. Everything had gone to hell, both inside and out. I painted the kitchen today.”

“Mrs. Barnes is getting up there in years and was happy to move into the assisted living apartment complex a town over. Things fell into disrepair and she was frustrated that she couldn’t fix them herself, so she decided to put the house on the market. I was actually pretty surprised when it sold so fast.”

“It was the location and style of the house that attracted me. Renovating and restoring a Craftsman has been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “I guess you could say I watch too many home renovation shows on television.”

The conversation lagged as they watched the sun as it dipped low on the horizon, painting pink and orange streaks in the sky. The silence made Jason uncomfortable, bringing back memories he’d rather put behind him. He was relieved when his phone chirped and he pulled it from his shorts pocket.

“Excuse me, it’s my brother. I need to take this.”

“Of course. I’ll just finish clearing up.”

Jason stood and walked a few steps away, turning his back to Brinley who was stacking dishes and silverware. Westin Anderson could probably wait but perhaps Jason could use the call as an excuse to make his exit.

“Hey, brother. What’s going on?”

“It’s always something around here and tonight is no different. I could use your help, actually.”

West was the head detective of the Tremont Police department. A grand title, but the reality was he had a staff of only three men. All of them were excellent at their job but West didn’t have nearly enough resources to deal with everything that needed to be done.

“You name it. How can I help?”

“Listen, that new neighbor of yours… You said something about her at Sunday dinner a few weeks ago.”

Jason quickly glanced over his shoulder at the mention of Brinley. She’d cleared the table and was cleaning it off with a wet cloth.

“I did. What about it?” he asked cautiously, not liking where this conversation was heading.

“What do you know about her?”

“You better be going someplace with this,” Jason warned, taking another look at Brinley who was now relaxing in her chair and enjoying the rest of her wine. “Spit it out.”

Jason rubbed his suddenly aching temples.

“I need you to trust me. I don’t want to get into it on the phone but I will say that there’s been a murder.”

“What the–” West interrupted Jason before he’d even finished his sentence.

“I’ll tell you every detail when I see you. I just need to talk to her. Can you get her here or not? I can always send a cruiser to pick her up.”

Jason couldn’t catch a fucking break. Just when life looked like it would be quiet and uneventful, someone smacked him in the head with a two by four.

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Jason snarled and pressed the end button harder than he needed to. Turning back to his smiling hostess, he wasn’t quite sure what to say or how much to tell her. Not that he knew all that much.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her brows pulled down and clearly worried. “You look like you got bad news.”

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.”

‡

I
t 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?”