She doesn’t need to say anything else. I put the pedal to the metal and haul ass toward Nick.
I pull into the police station on two wheels, because there’s no doubt in my mind that Leon Santos has already tipped off Richard to our visit. Men like Santos don’t poo where they eat, and Richard Dunbar has probably lined his pockets far better than Lanie ever could.
“Lanie, grab the fender,” I order, turning back to look at Nina. “I think it’s best if you stay out of this part. I don’t want your life to be any more difficult because you were involved in uncovering Charlie’s crime.”
She nods. “Agree. I’m going to sit this one out.”
I offer her a tight-lipped smile and jump from the car, rushing to catch up to Lanie. We burst through the doors, headed toward the receptionist.
“May I help you?” the white-haired woman with hard eyes, almost black in color, asks from behind the desk.
“We need to see Nick West immediately, please. We have evidence of a major crime,” Lanie explains, voice even and leaving no room for argument.
“Let me see if he’s available.”
“If he’s here, he’s available,” Lanie says, drumming her claw like nails on the desk.
The woman shoots her an annoyed glare before calling Nick. “He’ll be out shortly.”
She turns her chair, giving us her back. A clear dismissal, no doubt a result of Lanie’s directness.
Less than two minutes later, Nick saunters out, looking every bit the calm and collected man I’ve grown to view him as.
“Alyssa?” he says, when he sees it’s me and Lanie. “What’s going on?” When he asks this, his gaze is fixed on the fender in Lanie’s hand.
“Evidence,” she says, lifting it up.
“Come with me,” he orders, turning on his heels and stalking toward the back.
His body language isn’t exactly screaming that he’s glad to see us.
He steers us into what appears to be an interrogation room.
“What’s with this?” Lanie asks, dropping the fender on a desk and popping her fists on her hips. “We aren’t suspects. Certainly, you can find better accommodations for us.”
He takes a deep breath. “I think it’s best if we have this conversation in here. Somewhere we won’t be overheard in case what you’re carrying there was obtained any other way than legally.”
“Nick, you know we wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t above board. We simply asked and a nice gentleman provided us with some proof we need for you to start up the investigation.”
He closes his eyes. “I said I was done with the cloak and dagger stuff. I can’t be running around trying to solve cases that don’t concern the department.”
“We understand. That’s why we did our own investigation.”
He groans. “Alyssa, you promised me you wouldn’t.”
“My promise was null and void the moment I told you physical evidence might exist.”
His hands rise to his temples, and he rubs at them hard. “I can’t do this today. Please go home and stop this.”
“No, because we know who’s responsible for, at the very least, Billy Garet’s death.”
His head lolls back on his shoulders. “This I’ve gotta hear.”
“Charlie Dunbar.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Charlie?” His head shakes back and forth. “No, Alyssa. You can’t go around accusing men, especially the mayor’s son, of crimes without solid evidence.”
“Did you not hear her when she said we have it?” Lanie’s hand shoots out toward the fender. “Let me break it down for you, Nick. Charlie left the bar at the same time as Billy. That should check out if you watch the tapes that Alyssa claims you already requested. Then the idiot drives down Spooky Hollow and sideswipes Billy’s black Jeep, transferring paint to the fender of his red truck that was taken to Santos auto body on August eighteenth, the day after Billy’s accident.”
