Glen’s bare toes scrunched into the thick gray carpet. “Skinner said that you’re lying about that and trying to set up some sort of defense.”
“Do you know Rupert Skinner?” Scott asked.
Glen rolled his neck, cracking a vertebra. “Clay and Skinner were good friends, so I’ve met the guy. Can’t say I was impressed.”
Fair enough. She clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m telling the truth.” She drew in air. “So far, I have no memory of leaving Snarky’s or going to Clay’s. We broke up a long time ago, and I had no intention of ever seeing him again. It just doesn’t make sense.”
Glen studied her, his gaze finally focusing. “You don’t seem like a killer.”
“If not Millie, then who do you think killed your brother?” Scott asked.
“Couldn’t tell you,” Glen said. “Like I said, I haven’t been home much in the last few years. I figured they’d need help at some point and I’d go home, but honestly, it’s been nice being away.”
Millie cleared her throat. “You seem to be doing well.” She fidgeted and forced herself to relax. “I don’t know how to ask you this, but I think there’s a chance your brother drugged me. Do you think that’s possible?”
Glen looked down at his legs and back up. “I think there’s a good chance my brother drugged you.” He flushed. “Clay got real drunk one night a few years ago and told me if I ever wanted to score, he’d found the foolproof way. I asked him what he meant and he hinted he could obtain drugs.”
“Did he actually say he used drugs?” Scott asked, his tone dark.
“No, but he alluded to it,” Glen said.
Millie cocked her head. “I’m sure the police searched his house. If they had found drugs, I’m sure we would’ve heard.”
Glen shifted in his seat. “Maybe. I haven’t been back to his place, but when we were kids, anytime we wanted to hide something, we did it in a tree outside our home.”
Millie had never heard that, even though she’d dated Clay for years. “In a tree?”
“Yeah. It was a stupid game we played as kids. The tree was visible from the house, and once you looked for it, you couldn’t miss it.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if that’ll help you or not, but if my brother had anything to hide, it wouldn’t be in a safety deposit box. He was too suspicious for that.”
Millie leaned over and patted his hand. “I really am sorry for your loss. I know you weren’t close, but he was still your brother.”
“Thanks,” Glen said. “If he did drug you, I’m so sorry, Millie.”
Millie stood and walked toward the door. “Thank you. Will you be attending the funeral on Sunday?”
“I will,” Glen said. “But you should probably skip it. While I don’t think you’re guilty, Silas does, and you never know what he’s going to do. He is quite the hothead.”
Millie paused and turned. “You don’t think he would’ve hurt the chief, do you?”
“The chief? No. That guy’s invincible. Nobody would hurt the chief.”
Not true. If he only knew.
* * * *
They were halfway to DC when Scott pulled over to take a phone call from his office. From his terse replies, it sounded as if he was disagreeing with a proposed settlement in some sort of breach-of-contract case.
Millie took the moment to study him. He sat easily in the driver’s seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his phone to his ear. He stared straight out the window as he spoke, his profile all fierce lines. She moved her gaze from his hand up his sinewed forearm to his muscled biceps. While not bulky, his body undeniably showed sleek strength.
Her breath quickened and her thighs softened.
His hair had grown, the darker blond mixing with the light. The whiskers on his chiseled jaw were even darker, contrasting with his deep blue eyes. As she listened and tried not to watch his firm lips move, he took over the conversation in that way he had, soon issuing orders in a calm and no-nonsense rumble as he tapped callused fingers on the steering wheel.
The strategy he outlined was most likely brilliant, but the roaring of blood through Millie’s head drowned out the meaning of his words.
What was she going to do with him?
She’d dated men before; her eccentric ways initially drew interest that ultimately turned to irritation. She could lose herself in her workshop with her gadgets for days. For some reason, she didn’t think Scott would mind. He seemed to lose himself in the law. Well, not the law, but in strategy. Yet she could tell from the few glimpses he’d allowed her into his thoughts that the nightmares plaguing him were holding him back.
