He snorted. “That’s not true. They’re all in the Pacific Northwest.”
“Not true.” She looked down at her still-clean notepaper. “So far, you aren’t helping with my cases.” She looked up. “I’ve called the EVE facility and have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow at noon to discuss the victim.”
Brock lost his frown. “How the hell did you manage that?”
She wrote the date on the top of her notepaper as well as his name. “I had my immediate boss at the FBI make the arrangements. Personally.”
Brock blew out a whistle. “Impressive.”
She tried not to warm at the compliment and still needed that additional research on the place. Her contact in DC hadn’t gotten back to her yet. “I don’t see why if EVE is just a research facility.”
“It is and always has been,” Brock returned. “They study the ionosphere, and they’re not big on visitors. Did they give you any indication about the identity of the victim?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t talked to anybody yet. They want to meet in person, whoever they are.” Curiosity roared through her. “Can you give me any more information before I go?”
“Yeah. I’m going with you.” When she just looked at him, he smiled, all charm. “The ride isn’t easy, and you’ll need somebody who knows the way. I’m probably the only person in town who will voluntarily take you through that gulley and along the river. It’s dangerous this time of year.”
What wasn’t? It was uncomfortably reassuring to know he’d be accompanying her. She had to get over this dependence on him—after they met with the EVE personnel tomorrow. “I’d like for you to join me,” she said, almost primly.
His chuckle warmed parts of her. “All right. Are we done for the day?”
“Ha. I’ve only been here for a few days, and I’m already finished with the secrets, Brock. I think you suspect who killed Hank, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’d want to protect them. Unless it was one of your brothers.” Although, the entire town seemed close, almost like family. Maybe he’d protect any of them. Her gut told her he was innocent, even though he’d found the body. Unease filtered through her. Was she being objective?
His head lifted, and his eyelids dropped to half-mast. “I’m not keeping secrets from you. I don’t know who shot Hank, but I guarantee it wasn’t one of my brothers. We’re all trained, and we wouldn’t make a mistake like that—considering you said the shotgun blast didn’t kill him, and he actually drowned.” His voice roughened and became hoarse.
What was he hiding? “Was he dead, already drowned, when you found him?”
“I already answered that question in the affirmative,” Brock said.
Oh, he was good, and if she didn’t know his background, she’d believe him. He looked earnest, regretful, and honest. But logic ruled, and his answer didn’t make sense. Why didn’t he want vengeance for his guardian? “You loved him,” she said quietly.
Brock nodded. “We all loved him. He was everything.”
“Then why don’t you want to know who killed him?” she pressed. Something eluded her, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t grasp it.
“I’ve talked all I’m gonna about it,” Brock said. “You’ve interviewed Ace, as well as Flossy, I assume. That leaves Christian.”
She blinked. “Yeah. I didn’t figure he’d be easy to pin down.”
“He isn’t, but I spoke with him last night.”
She perked up. “You did?”
“Yes. Christian sometimes uses my shop to tweak his snowmobile, and I told him he had to speak with you to avoid more folks landing in town. Figured that would work.” Brock glanced at his phone just as the outside door opened loudly. “Although, he’s here now. I guess you’re up, Agent. Good luck with my brother. He’s a peach.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brock exited the conference room and met his brother near the door. “Thanks for coming.”
Christian brushed snow off his black jacket, taking up all the available space in the reception area. “Didn’t see as you gave me much choice.”
True. Threatening Christian with the arrival of the entire federal government definitely worked. More people in town made the area too busy for the guy. “She’s just doing her job. One interview and you’ll be done.” He looked down at the wild animal sitting patiently by Christian’s feet and hid his surprise that Christian had actually shown up.
Flossy fluttered her hands. “Christian, it’s so nice to see you in town. There’s coffee in the back room, and if the sheriff didn’t eat all the scones, there should be a couple left for you.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “They’re strawberry. Your favorite.”
Christian gifted her with a very rare smile, and swear to God, the woman twittered.
Brock shook his head. Why did women, aged twenty to eighty, find his brother sexy? The guy lived as a cranky recluse, wilder than the land surrounding them. “I didn’t eat all thescones, Flossy.” He didn’t bother to correct her about his title because the woman wouldn’t listen.
