“You’re doing a good job, Brigid,” Scott said, turning and studying Millie. “Millie? While I’m going casual, why don’t you go full-on HDD badass agent? Look like somebody who wants to challenge him.”
“I like it,” Brigid said. “Get into that twit’s head.”
Now that was a plan. “I’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Millie promised. Part of her wanted to stick around to help find Kat, while another part wanted to invite Scott Terentson into the shower with her. However, he was right. Enough people searched right now for the wayward feline, and they didn’t have time for a shower interlude.
For now, she needed to track down who had shot the chief and wanted to frame her for murder.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Glen Baker lived in an apartment complex outside Greentown Community College, where the doors were red, the outside stucco, and the roof metal. A hodgepodge of different vehicles parked near the building, most of them sporting Go Blue Dog stickers. A dumpster over to the far right of the building overflowed with beer cans, fast-food wrappers, and what looked like a copious number of vodka bottles.
“How old’s this guy?” Scott asked, stretching out of his SUV and looking dangerous.
Millie shivered in the cool spring air. “He’s in his early twenties. Nice kid, if I remember right. We’d hang out with him once in a while when I dated Clay in high school.”
“Is he in college?”
“I don’t think anyone’s really done a background on the guy,” she said thoughtfully.
Scott took her hand as they walked toward the nearest stairwell and climbed three stories to the top floor.
The feel of his strong hand bracketing hers had her shivering for an entirely different reason. “According to Brigid, he’s in number fourteen,” Millie mused. She had to stop lusting after Scott’s hot body. They had work to do.
They wandered through the hallway, stepping over bikes, more beer bottles, and what looked like part of a canoe before reaching the correct door. Scott rapped on the heavy metal. Something fell inside. He knocked again.
“Just a second,” an irritated male voice called out. Seconds later, the door opened to reveal Glen Baker, his thin frame in jogging shorts and a green tank top with a college logo on it. His hair was ruffled and his eyes sleepy. “Why are you here so early?” He yawned widely.
Millie glanced at her watch. “It’s noon.”
He looked at her. “Huh. Oh, whoops. Guess I missed class. Who are you? Wait, Millie, is that you?”
“Hi, Glen,” she said. She hadn’t seen him in about five years. They’d somehow missed each other when she visited home. “Are you attending college?”
“Yeah. I’m earning my business degree. Since my brothers wouldn’t go into real estate with me, I figure someone has to take over our guiding and rafting enterprise who at least understands how to count.” He scratched his belly and opened the door. “Come on in.”
Millie introduced Scott.
“Hi.” Glen shook hands with him.
Millie walked inside, holding her breath, then released it in surprise. She had expected more of a frat house vibe. Freshly vacuumed carpet cushioned her feet, and knickknacks sparkled absent of any dust. A leather sofa and chair sat in the living room in front of one of the widest TVs she’d ever seen. A quick peek in the kitchen showed bright yellow countertops, white cupboards, and no mess. “Glen, your place is pretty decent,” she said.
“Thanks.” He grinned. “I’m not stupid. If I party, I party at somebody else’s house.”
“Nicely done,” Scott agreed.
So far, Glen’s openness surprised Millie. She sat on the sofa and looked toward the young man she had known as a kid. “I didn’t kill your brother and I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Glen said, loping back to sit in the chair as Scott planted himself next to Millie on the sofa. “Clay and I weren’t close,” Glen admitted. “But I’m sorry he is dead.”
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill him?” Scott asked.
Glen’s focus landed on Millie. “No. I know he was rude to you, but I also remember you from when I was young. You came to all my soccer games.”
“It was fun to watch you play,” she admitted.
Glen cracked his knuckles and blinked as if he couldn’t quite awaken. “You were found in his bed with blood all over you, Millie. The prosecuting attorney called me and said your fingerprints were on the knife.”
She gulped. “I know, but I can’t remember anything from that night.”
