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“This interview isn’t over until we say it is,” Perkins snapped.
Steve Banner was obviously playing the role of good cop. “Harper, we have one more question.” He opened an envelope and slid a photograph across the table. “Can you tell me who this is?”
Steele clenched his jaw when he saw the picture of Harper chatting with a man while standing on a sidewalk. The man she was talking to was none other than Kenny Dillon, a.k.a. Dillweed.
One of the three men who were killed during the shoot-out at her ex-husband’s warehouse.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Harper stared at the glossy photograph the ATF agent slid across the table. It was eerie to see her standing there talking to a man when she had no idea anyone was close enough to take a picture of her.
Just how long had they been following her?
“Harper?” Steele prodded.
She glanced at him, shocked to see wary suspicion simmering in his eyes. She didn’t understand the significance of this picture. “This is Glenn Vice. He attends my church sometimes.”
“Your church?” The scathing doubt in Perkins’s tone was like nails on a chalkboard. “You really expect us to believe that?”
She abruptly pushed the photograph back across the table toward him. “Yes. We are standing on the sidewalk outside the church. And if you were there taking this picture, you already know that.”
“How well do you know Glenn Vice?” Steele asked.
It hurt to know he was grilling her like a suspect. Like spending five minutes chatting with a fellow church member was wrong. She didn’t look at Steele, keeping her gaze focused on the two ATF agents across from her. “I don’t know him very well at all. We ended up sitting in the same pew, and he introduced himself. I returned the favor. We chatted for a few minutes after services, and that was the end of it.”
“He didn’t ask you to go out with him? Dinner or a movie?” Steve Banner asked.
“No.” Then she amended her statement. “Sort of. He mentioned his favorite restaurant, a steak place I’d never heard of. I told him to enjoy and turned away. Maybe he intended to ask me out, but it didn’t happen.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What does Glenn Vice have to do with anything?”
“He’s dead,” Bryon Perkins said bluntly. “Killed in the shooting at your ex-husband’s warehouse two weeks ago.”
That was a surprise. “You’re saying he worked for Jake?”
“His name isn’t Glenn Vice,” Steele said. “His real name is Kenny Dillon, a.k.a. Dillweed.”
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm. Glenn was Kenny? He’d worked for her ex? And had tried to get close to her by attending the same church she did? “I had no idea.”
“How often did you see Dillweed at church?” Perkins asked.
She clenched her jaw, holding back a sharp retort. “I saw the man I knew as Glenn Vice about three times. He wasn’t always at services. And to be honest, I wasn’t always able to attend either.”
“I thought that was part of your routine?” Steele said.
It took all her willpower to remain calm. “Yes, except for the early days in my pregnancy when I suffered morning sickness. And there was the time I came down with a bad cold. Then there was that snowstorm too.” She thought back to the times she’d stayed home on a Sunday. “On a rare occasion, Trent Gibson would ask me to do some work from home on the weekend. If I didn’t get to it on Saturday, I’d get caught up on Sunday.” Now she turned in her seat. “Do you want me to ask my boss for evidence of each time I worked from home?”
Steele shook his head, but his expression remained serious. “That’s not necessary. We’re just trying to understand the connection between you and Kenny Dillon.”
“There is only a vague connection between me and Glenn Vice.” She didn’t care if she sounded obstinate. There was nothing she could do to force them to believe her. “I have no idea why he pretended to be someone else. Or why he attended church services.”
“To get close to you, of course,” Perkins said.
She stared at Perkins and decided she didn’t like him. He was being a jerk for no good reason. “Is that all? Or do you have other questions for me?”
“We’d like to search your apartment.” Steve Banner offered a sympathetic smile. “With your permission of course.”
“Go ahead.” Her response was immediate. “You won’t find anything.”
“Keep in mind, Brock and I were there when someone tried to kidnap Harper,” Steele said, seeming to come to her defense for the first time since this interview started. “She also had a tracking device on her car, her shoe, and maybe even in her purse. It’s not a stretch to believe they planted someone at the church to get close to her.”
