Tate eyed her sideways. “Oh, this is getting good,now isn’t it?”
Buckle leaned forward, smelling slightly of lilacs. “Yes. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to run a background on the good professor. Guess what I found out, Tate?”
“Do tell,” Tate drawled.
She tapped unpainted nails on the table. “Turns out Dr. Jethro Hanson was raised by a single mother, a duchess no less, named Isla Hanson.”
“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Tate said, hisjaw hardening.
Buckle stopped tapping. “There’s more. Isla had another son, one a mere year older than Jethro, named…Fletcher.”
The detective was good. Very good.
Tate’s eyebrows rose toward his gleaming and badass bald head. “Now that teases the senses, doesn’t it? Tell me more aboutthis Fletcher.”
“It’s a mystery,” Buckle said quietly. “The records show that Fletcher Hanson became a barrister, was good at it, then one day just closed up shop and disappeared.”
Tate turned to look at her. “Seriously?”
“Yep. In addition, mere weeks before that time, Duchess Isla died. So sad. The death certificate listed cause of death as a heart attack. Is it just me, or does that not feel right?” Buckle tilted her head.
Tate’s nostrils flared. “That doesn’t feel right.” He frowned. “Tell me aboutyour brother.”
“There’s not much to say,” Jethro said. “I’m sorry.”
“I will arrest you,” Tate snapped.
The door opened, and a tall man with intense blue eyes, sandy blond hair, and muscled forearms strode into the room. At this after-dinner hour, he wore black slacks and a pressed, white, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “I’m sorry to be late.”
Tate sighed. “Scott? What the hell are you doing here?”
Scott came around the desk and drew out the remaining chair, the one next to Jethro. “It’s good to see you again, Tate.” He poured the full force of his charming smile onto Buckle. “Detective Buckle, it’s even better to see you again. Although it’s sad to see you two still harassing innocent people.”
Jethro turned toward the guy.“Who are you?”
The man held out a hand. “My apologies. I’m Scott Terentson from Terentson Law Offices, formerly Terentsonand Terentson.”
“I didn’t call for a barrister.” Jethro shook the man’s hand before turning back tothe detectives.
“Your team called me.” Scott faced Tate.
Tate shook his head. “Last time you worked with those folks, you were shot and in the hospital for six weeks. You sureyou want this?”
Jethro glanced at the man.“That was you?”
“Yeah. That was me,” Scott said, not losing his interested smile.
Jethro pursed his lips and nodded. Fair enough. Scott had been shot while representing Angus Force, and Force couldn’t say enough good things about the guy. Considering Force disliked most people, that meant something. “While I appreciate the backup, I don’t have a team and don’t require the services of an attorney. Should that occasion arise, Iwill call you.”
Buckle kicked back in her chair, looking like a fashion model on vacation in her perfectly cut suit. “What happened to your partner, Terentson?”
Scott shrugged. “My uncle chose to retire after I recuperated from my injuries. Said he wanted to live life on his boat and not look back. Can’t blame him.”
“Neither can I,” Buckle said, her eyes darkening. “Tell your client he might want to cooperate with us so we don’t have to kick this up to the federal level. Apparently we have a foreign national on our soil, one who seems to have disappeared from the UK and may have been involved in the killing of a citizen of the United States. Unless your client wants the HDD, FBI, CIA, DHS, and so on involved?”
Jethro’s gut turned over at the thought. “Unless you have proof that there’s a foreign national involved in a crime, there’s no reason to bring in the big guns. This is a murder in your jurisdiction, and the only clue you have is that someone signed the name Fletcher to a note? Give me a break. Unless your department can’t manage the investigation, I mean. If you need assistance, you shouldask for help.”
Buckle coughed out a laugh. “You can’t tick me off, Professor.”
