Chapter Twenty
Angus pulled at the worn T-shirt he’d borrowed from Wolfe, grateful to at least be wearing clothes. He sat in the interrogation room across from Special Agents Fields and Rutherford. He grinned. “How bad do you two want to go back in time and not show up on my porch in Kentucky?”
“You have no idea,” Agent Rutherford muttered, several closed file folders in front of him on the gleaming metal table.
Oh, Angus had some sort of idea. “When do I get my gun back?” Not that he didn’t have a few more in a secured locker. A guy had to be prepared.
“Your weapon was used to kill somebody, Mr. Force,” Fields said around a cough drop. “It might be a while.”
That figured. It was odd to be called “mister” instead of agent. No doubt it was intentional. “He attacked us, as you can tell from my smoldering cabin.” Angus crossed his arms and instantly regretted it as pain flashed through his torso from his burns. He kept his expression bland, refusing to show discomfort. “Where’s Nari?”
“In another room being interviewed,” Rutherford said. He’d dressed down this Saturday in a logoed golf shirt with perfectly creased slacks. “Run us through what happened.”
“Well now, shouldn’t we include Metro in on this, considering Tate has covered the cases so far?” Angus asked.
Rutherford rolled his eyes. “Your cabin wasn’t in their jurisdiction, and frankly, we don’t have time for officers who take photos with their phones and use twenty-year-old fingerprint technology. They can continue with the junkie and vandalism cases. When an HDD agent, even a former one like you, is attacked, we handle it. So, tell us everything about the bombing of your cabin and vehicle.”
Fair enough. Angus did so, leaving out the fact that the team had been there earlier in the day and that they were working a case off the books.
Rutherford had his phone recording, but he also took notes on a legal pad. “Why was Agent Zhang at your cabin in the middle of nowhere?”
“None of your business,” Angus said easily.
Rutherford kept scribbling. “Are you and Agent Zhang involved in a sexual relationship?”
Ah. That was the tack he’d decided to take. Piss Angus off and see if he’d let something slip? “Again, none of your business.” He knew better than to lie to federal investigators, but he didn’t have to tell them anything he didn’t want to say. “Why? You interested in her?”
Rutherford didn’t look up. “The last guy she dated nearly lost his position in the HDD. I don’t date nutj obs.”
Irritation ticked along Angus’s skin. Nicely done. Rutherford had gotten in a hit, but Angus didn’t have to let him know it. “You probably couldn’t handle her,” he agreed, wanting to punch the guy in the nose.
“Can you?” Rutherford looked up, his blue eyes clear.
Angus leaned forward. “Are we really here to talk about my dating life? Tell me you at least have something on the asshole who shot at me and then blew up my cabin. Have you even found Millie Frost yet?” So far Brigid had been unable to track the young tech, so it was doubtful this guy had either.
Fields crunched on the cough drop. By the smell, this one was lemon-flavored. “So you are dating Agent Zhang.”
Angus sat back. He started to run through the line of questioning in his mind.
“Okay. Let’s go over when you were shot at the other day. Nobody else saw a blue truck or a firefight,” Rutherford said.
Angus rolled his eyes. “We didn’t engage until we were away from the businesses along the road.”
Fields nodded. “That was wise of you. And the grenade and explosion last night at your cabin? Did anybody see the threat? Besides Nari Zhang?”
Angus lowered his chin. “No.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ve told you everything I know about both scenarios. All I can think is that either I or my team pissed somebody off. We busted a cult a while back and it’s entirely possible an old cult member is out for revenge. I don’t know. Give me access to my case files and I’ll go through them one by one.” After he found the serial killer.
“Tell me where you were the night this woman was dumped in the alley.” Rutherford took out a picture of the first victim they’d found.
Angus looked down at the dead Chinese graduate student. He shook his head. “This isn’t your case.”
Fields looked at the picture, his gaze hardening. “No, but the bodies reflect an obsession with your team, so we called in a couple of favors in order to question you. I suggest you cooperate. Please answer Tom’s question.”
Heat pricked along Angus’s neck, but he forced himself to stay in the moment. “I was at the office when I got the call about the first victim,” he said. “I called in West and Wolfe and we headed to the scene.”
“Who else was at the office at that time?” Fields asked, not taking notes.
“Roscoe, my dog.” Angus forced his temper elsewhere. These questions made sense, even if he didn’t like them. “You can interview him if you’d like, but he’s a tough one to crack.”
