The chief looked at the guy and glanced back at Millie. “I have an investigation to conduct and I’m going to do it,” he said blithely. “Millie, have you ever met a Bob Phillips, Gene Lightfoot, or Henry Halcomb?”
“No,” Millie said, her face scrunching up. “I don’t think so.”
“What about you, Terentson?” the chief asked.
Scott shook his head. “Those names don’t mean anything to me.”
The chief reached over and snatched a darker brown file folder from somewhere in the middle of the pile of cream colored ones. “This is mine,” he said. He flipped open the top and slid three photographs across the table.
Scott studied the pictures of the three men. “Yep. These three attacked us.” Of course, they appeared a little different in their driver’s license pictures. He looked up at the chief and banished his emotional reaction to killing three men. For now, anyway. “Who were they?”
The chief rubbed his shoulder. “They’re known criminals from Charleston. Their records show some breaking and entering, some assault. They’ve all three done time.”
Scott’s shoulders ached. Had he torn something in the bombing the day before? “Were they affiliated with any criminal organization?”
“No,” the chief said. “You sure you haven’t seen any of them before?”
“Not until the other day,” Scott said. He pointed to Lightfoot. “He started shooting as the first one out of the truck.” All three men were big and they looked tough, but now they were dead. Because of him.
“Did they have families?” Millie asked quietly.
Scott kept from reacting. He didn’t want the answer to that question.
“No,” the chief said. “From the Charleston police records, they’ve gotten in trouble together since their teenage years.”
Scott looked up at the chief. “Is the Charleston Police Department running their financials?”
“Yep,” the chief said. “If someone paid them in any manner we can trace, we’ll get it.”
Scott made a mental note to contact Brigid. She’d be faster and had better resources than the local or state police. “Is there any connection between these men and Clay Baker?”
“Not that we’ve found,” the chief said. “Except that Baker went to college and law school in Charleston, then lived there. We haven’t found anything stronger than that to tie them together.”
“What about with Werner Dearth?” Millie asked suddenly.
The chief flicked his gaze to her. “Not yet. I have requested a warrant for his phone records but probably lack probable cause on the local level.”
Yet apparently Dearth’s financials were even tripping tying up the HDD techs. “Any luck with your investigation of Clay Baker and possible criminal activity in college?” Scott asked.
Skinner sat up straighter and a strand of his thickly lotioned hair fell onto his forehead, revealing even more of his scalp. “Investigation of Clay? Clay was a great guy who didn’t do anything wrong. Well, except get murdered. You’re going to pay for that, Ms. Frost.”
“It’s Agent Frost,” she said smoothly. “And I didn’t kill him.”
Scott shifted his weight just enough to let her know he’d do the talking as the damn lawyer in the room.
“Please walk me through how you ended up at Clay’s house the night your knife sliced him into pieces?” Skinner asked smoothly.
“She’s already on record and has signed her statement,” Scott said. “She has nothing further to add at this point.” He dismissed the county prosecutor and looked at the chief again. “Have you found anything about Clay’s past?”
“He was in love with you,” Skinner spat. “You knew that and you used it against him. Why would you kill him?”
“You’re getting emotional,” Scott said flatly.
Skinner leaned back, his eyes raging. “You’re right.” He stood. “The time for emotion is over. I’m sticking to the arraignment schedule already sent to you. It’s my understanding you’ve already been fingerprinted. Now it’s time to find justice for an innocent man. Do either of you have anything to add to either of these cases?”
“No,” Scott answered for them both.
Skinner buttoned up his suit jacket. “Very well. You’re on notice, Mr. Terentson, that charges are likely to be brought against you for the murder of those three men.” He jerked his chin toward the pictures.
