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“I don’t remember off the top of my head. I’d have to check my logs.”
“Do you recall if you were in or around Spike Village?”
“Again, detective,” my emphasis is presented to indicate my irritation, “without my documentation in front of me, your guess is as good as mine.”
“Do you happen to recall if you gave assistance to a man named Patrick Baker?” Detective Davis proceeds to interrogate.
“Not off the top of my head.”
“This is him,” Davis announces at the same time he shoves his cell in my direction. “Look familiar?”
Meeting his glare is as effortless as my answer. “No.”
“According to his phone records he called and texted your company several times for a tow,” Northwood reveals like he’s hoping to rattle me.
It doesn’t.
It doesn’t even warrant a fucking response.
“That jog your memory?” Davis prods after tucking his device away.
“No.” My response obviously isn’t the one they’re looking for. “You asked about my schedule, which I don’t have memorized. You then asked me about some man I don’t remember seeing off the top of my head, which considering how many people I fucking see in a day, isn’t that surprising. And then you tell me he contacted me for a job that I can’t confirm or deny I took without my work shit in front of me.” The shrug that escapes seems to shock and irk the pair. “Not real sure what the fuck this is about boys, but I’d love for you to get to the fucking point.”
“He’s missing,” Northwood clumsily confesses. “And he may be connected to another person of interest for a more pressing case, which is why any information from anyone who has seen him recently is crucial.”
“Critical,” Davis echoes.
My money says that the other “more pressing case” is about Rabbit.
Or going to be about her, and I’m not about to let that shit fly.
“Sorry detectives,” I calmly proclaim. “Without documentation to assist in my answerin’ I can’t be of much help. And I don’t keep that shit on me. Especially not when I’m out handlin’ house shit.” Their eyes briefly settle on Kipp like he’s their next target pushing me to grunt, “Look, if you wanna get an order for my records, do so. I’ll pull ‘em and we can do this little song and dance again, but until then? I’ve got a man to feed and a woman to fuck.” The condescending head tip is followed by me moving towards my parked nonwork truck. “Detectives.”
“We’ll be in touch, Mr. Nolan,” Davis calls out only to receive a two-finger wave over my shoulder.
Even if they are, so what?
They’ve got nothing.
I know where I was.
I know what I did.
And I know that they’ll never find him.
Just like that stalker son of a bitch will never get his hands on our woman again.
Chapter 15
Kipp
I – honest to the car gods – don’t know what’s more distracting.
Watching her tongue ring anxiously whip back and forth while she dangerously whisks around the mushed potatoes in what was once my mother’s favorite cooking bowl or looking out the glass patio door to watch him slowly press his lips to that fucking beer bottle while he grills our steaks.
ForFerrarisake, I want them both on my cock.
Right.
