“I don’t want to talk about him.”
He regarded me with his fatherly expression that I’d seen many times when he was about to give me a speech or punish me. “We’re going to. You’ve been on edge since Duke was shot. I know you have feelings for him. I’m not thrilled about that. He’s not the right man for you.”
I couldn’t stop laughing even if I wanted to. “There’s nothing to worry about, Dad. Duke hates me. You saw the way he looked at me.”
Dad glanced past me and stiffened.
I turned to find Gwen and Bruce hauling Neal Fitzgerald into the conference room.
Finally.
Dad and I would have the opportunity to interrogate Neal while Bruce and Gwen stood by as witnesses.
“What’s this about?” Neal asked with fear on his pockmarked face as Gwen shoved him into a chair across from Dad and me. “What is the former FBI director doing here?”
“Looking for my Christmas gift that Santa hasn’t delivered to me in the last few years,” Dad said with a bite to his tone as he flipped over the photos in front of him and slid one over to Neal. “What were you doing with McCauley in this photo that was taken in October?”
Neal studied the picture. “DEA business is none of yours.”
“Are you undercover?” Dad asked.
“McCauley is an informant of mine,” he said.
“Liar,” I mumbled.
My dad showed another picture to Neal—a screenshot taken from the video footage when Maggie was covering my brother’s story. The photo depicted a man in a ball cap among the crowd. “Who’s this standing behind the two young ladies?”
Neal took one look at the image, and his head shot up. “I don’t know.”
I glared at Neal. “Careful.”
“Where were you four years ago when my son was found overdosed in his apartment?” Dad asked.
“You expect me to remember that far back,” he said, his eyebrows lifting.
“The pic in front of you is time-stamped the day Jason’s body was found in his apartment.” I squared my shoulders. “In that photo is a government vehicle. Were you driving it that day?”
“You’re trying to pin his murder on me?” His mouth dropped open.
“Who said he was murdered?” Dad asked.
Neal glanced at Gwen and Bruce, who were guarding the door, as if they could come to his rescue.
“We know you shot Jason with an overdose of drugs.” I didn’t know that, but I wanted to see his reaction.
Neal just sat there. “I want my lawyer.”
My dad was on his feet and slapped his hands on the table as he leaned over in Neal’s direction. “Did you kill my son?”
“I said I want my lawyer.”
The veins on Dad’s neck bulged. “You’re going to need more than a lawyer by the time I get done with you.”
Both Gwen and Bruce flinched.
“You know that government vehicles have tracking devices, right?” I asked.
That comment did faze Neal.
