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They’ve got nothing to tie me to Shelly Allred’s murder but a fucking cup and a timeline that doesn’t add up.
“I was working a missing person case on Madison Chambers in Colorado Springs. The family hired my company to investigate after her case went six months cold.”
Agent Grayson’s brows furrow. “Can anyone verify your story?”
“Yeah. My team on the assignment.”
“Anyone outside of your gang?”
This pompous dick.
“It’s not a gang. And why don’t you ask your higher-ups in the FBI? They’ll confirm I called in for Mercy Ravens Security when we discovered Miss Chambers hiding out in the city with her boyfriend. I was in Colorado Springs for ten days investigating and returned two days ago.
“I have receipts from my credit card being used at multiple places around the city. The hotel staff from where my team and I stayed can confirm when I came in every evening and left every morning.”
The FBI agents seem unfazed. Agent Grayson doubles down. “People can be paid off to say you were somewhere you weren’t. Others may have confused you with someone who looked similar. Firsthand accounts aren’t always accurate.”
“True. But surveillance doesn’t lie. Check the city cameras on Timber and Cleveland between the ninth and the nineteenth of this month. You’ll find my image on every day I was there, walking to the coffee shop on the corner. Check the hotel camera in the lobby—I’m there too.”
Grayson doesn’t relent. “You could have sneaked off in between camera footage of you taken.”
“There’s no way I could have driven to the Salt Lake City area and back while still being seen by multiple witnesses—that’s an eighteen-hour commute minimum. If I flew, my credit card would have been used and my face would be on those cameras. They’re not. This proves I have nothing to do with the death of your victim. Do your research, make your calls. I’ll wait.”
Agent Braun exchanges a quick glance with his partner while Agent Grayson glares daggers at me. I just peppered his timeline with buckshot, blowing his murder theory clear out of the water.
Agent Braun asks, “Then how did a disposable cup belonging to you end up in the apartment of our victim?”
“Fuck if I know. You hiring Mercy Ravens Security to do your job for you? I drink a lot of coffee and toss a lot of cups. Maybe theactualkiller planted it at the scene. Not my mystery to solve.”
Agent Grayson’s chair scrapes against the tiled floor as he hastily gets out of his seat, leaving the room to confirm my story.
Dave and I don’t say another word as we wait in the room with Agent Braun. Braun keeps flipping through his file, rubbing his forehead as he tries to connect the missing dots.
Hours pass before Agent Grayson returns, looking angrier than a wet cat. He slams the door behind him, taking his seat. He looks at me like he wants my head. “It appears your story checks out.”
As it would.Seriously, this guy has issues.
“Since you have nothing to charge my client with,” Dave says, standing with a flourish, “we’ll take our leave.”
I stand and stretch. “Sounds good to me. I want to get home to my fiancée.”
Agent Grayson’s head snaps at attention, his nostrils flaring. “Fiancée? Who might that be?”
“Surprised you don’t have that in your file,” I taunt as I head toward the exit.
Agent Grayson stands fast, blocking the doorway. “Is Olina Allred your fiancée?”
As much as I want to rub it into this agent’s face that she is, I need to tread lightly. Opal’s safety comes first. “I’m not engaged to Olina Allred.”I’m engaged to Opal, soon to be Opal Roberts.
Grayson’s hand shoots out, grabbing my forearm. His eyes are a cross between pain and immense hatred. I expect this type of behavior from a jealous boyfriend, but not a federal agent.
My patience is at its max. I’m two seconds away from pummeling this dude. “Best let go of my arm,” I threaten in a low voice.
“This is ridiculous,” Dave argues beside me. “Release my client at once before I go after your department for harassment.”
“Grayson, are you out of your ever-loving mind? Let him go,” his partner orders.
Begrudgingly, Agent Grayson releases his hold on me, stepping away from the door.
