“Ballistics confirms that the same bullets killed him as the ones that were taken out of your lawyer,” Detective Buckle said. “Why did you shoot this guy?”
Angus stilled. “I told you. He shot Scott and tried to shoot me. Who is he?”
“You tell us,” Tate said, working well with his partner. “Who is he?”
Angus barely kept from sighing. Was he this much of a pain in the ass when he interrogated a suspect? “I hereby identify this man as the guy who shot Scott and tried to shoot me. I don’t know his name. We didn’t exactly talk.” He angled his head to see the now-closed file folder. “Was the blonde with him? Did you find her?”
“Ah. The blond girl who knocked you out?” Detective Buckle asked, just enough derision in her tone to be annoying.
“Yes. The one with a big-assed shovel,” Angus agreed. He studied the two detectives. They were good, and he was running out of time. “How about this: Let’s play a game where you tell me something and then I give you information in return? Okay? Either you two start ponying up or I’m leaving. Walking right out of here.” Unless they arrested him, which was definitely an option.
“What do you want to know?” Detective Buckle asked, her voice pure reasonableness now.
Angus took a deep breath. “Who’s the dead guy?”
“His name is Willie Treeland, and he has a record that spans the gamut from assault to grand theft. How’d you get hooked up with him?” Tate asked.
“Why would he try to kill me?” Angus asked. Or, more importantly, “Who would hire him to shoot Scott and then me?”
“You tell us,” Buckle said. Again.
Angus stared down at the dead young man. “I don’t know. My team was trying to run a background search on all our old cases, but we were disbanded, as you know. My guess is that it has something to do with one of them.” He looked up. “Where did you find this guy, and where is the blonde?” The woman had looked young—maybe twenty years old.
“No blonde,” Dr. Buckle said.
Angus sat back and rolled his aching shoulders. “Well, I gave you her description. She was with this guy and she swung a shovel. My guess is that she was just along for the ride.”
“Why?” Tate asked.
“Because she didn’t kill me after she knocked me out,” Angus said quietly. “I think she tried to save her boyfriend, and wherever you found him, she’ll be nearby.” It was fairly simple and they knew it. “So. You have me for another hour and then I need to pick up a friend at work.”
“Nari Zhang?” Tate asked.
Angus didn’t flinch. “My friends are none of your business. Now. Where did you find Willie Treeland?”
Tate studied him, his dark eyes inscrutable. “He was found dead in his truck a block from a hospital parking lot. North Ridge Hospital, which is the closest to where the shooting occurred.”
Angus leaned forward. “I assume you pulled the CCTV?”
“Yeah. A block away; there wasn’t any sign of the truck,” Detective Buckle said, her unpainted nails tapping on the table. “So, once again, no video of what happened that day. I find that to be an interesting coincidence, don’t you, Tate?”
“I surely do,” Tate said. “It’s almost as if a trained agent made certain this happened. A frightened young blonde wouldn’t have thought of it, agreed?”
Buckle nodded. “Totally agree.”
The two were good—really good. They worked well together. “You know, if I ever get a team back together, I’d be interested in the two of you,” Angus said slowly. Wait a minute. A team back together? Where the hell had that thought come from?
Buckle’s laugh wasn’t filled with mirth. “Darlin’? The only team you’re going to put together is one in prison. But thanks for the offer.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Nari signed yet another piece of paper guaranteeing her silence on anything and anybody having to do with the HDD. All she wanted was insurance coverage, darn it. The HR office was surprisingly cheerful, with several bright posters framed on each wall. She sighed and read over another document.
“Nari?” Opal Clemonte said, poking her head in the door.
Nari stood. “Administrator. Hello.”
“Hi.” Opal smiled. “How about I conduct your exit interview over brunch? I’m starving.”
