Page 18 of Chilled

“None of my grandmother’s farm workers were around at the time, so they were in the clear. Besides my grandmother, there were just us kids.”

“Do you remember who was there?”

She shrugged. “What does it matter? That was a long time ago. We have a murder to solve in the here and now.”

“Sometimes, you have to look at every angle to solve a murder. If this guy is after you, who’s to say he didn’t try before?”

“I was too young to remember.” She looked up at him. “Do you think it’s important?”

“It might be.”

“Maybe my sister, Alice, will remember. I don’t. But I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“I’d rather bark up a wrong tree than face another victim’s family.”

“Good point.” Brenna sat back, the key in the ignition forgotten. “This guy is sick, really sick. And if he’s doing all this to get back at me for something, Dr. Drummond’s death is my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Nick took one of her hands in his. “You didn’t kill Dr. Drummond. Someone with a serious problem is responsible, and we’re going to catch him.”

Brenna felt drainedafter spilling her guts to Agent Tarver. During the trip back to the station, she sank into a silent stupor, blanking her mind from the terror of the barn fire that had almost killed her. Her chest burned as she remembered the thick black smoke that had coated her lungs and made it so hard to see, she hadn’t thought she’d make it out the door.

Brenna was glad when they arrived at the police station because she needed to get out of the vehicle and breathe.

Paul met them at the information desk. “We have Bart Olsen in the interview room. They just brought him in.”

“Good.” Nick moved past him and down the hall.

Brenna’s heart skipped a few beats as she hung her coat on a hook and hurried after him. “I want to interview him.”

“I’ll let you have him after I’m through.”

She frowned. “I don’t like it, but I guess that’s okay.” Without further comment, she passed the interview room and stepped into the observation area.

Through the two-way mirror, Brenna could see the man inside sitting alone at a table. His hands were cuffed behind his back, forcing him to perch at the edge of the chair. Brenna recognized his face beneath a couple of days’ growth of beard. Bart had been in cuffs the last time she’d seen him with the sheriff’s deputies escorting him to jail to serve his six-year sentence for rape, of which he’d only served two years. Why the hell couldn’t they keep men like him off the streets?

Nick Tarver entered the room and sat across the utilitarian table from him.

With Paul, Melissa and Chief Burkholder standing over her shoulder, Brenna kept her face turned toward the room. She didn’t want to talk to the others. Her job was to read into the words and body language of the man being questioned. Nick Tarver had better know what the hell he was doing. They couldn’t afford to waste time on the wrong suspect.

“Bart Olsen?” Nick settled into the hard-backed metal chair and leaned across the table.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Bart spat out his response. With bloodshot eyes and greasy hair, he looked like he hadn’t slept or washed in days. “Why the hell am I here?”

“We brought you in for questioning.”

“If you wanted me just for questions, why the cuffs?”

“Let me take care of them for you.” Nick stepped out the door and was back in minutes with a key. He unlocked the cuffs and slid them into his pocket. “Is that better?”

“Damn right.” Bart rubbed his wrists and stared at the agent, his eyes slightly narrowed. “So, what do you want?”

In low, steady tones, Nick asked, “Can you tell me where you were this past weekend?”

“Not that you have a right to ask, but I was at a hunting cabin by Lake Grayson.”

Nick smiled. “Do you like hunting and fishing, Mr. Olsen?”

Bart sat back in his chair and nodded. “Yeah, I go up to the cabin on weekends to unwind and catch a few fish.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But you didn’t bring me in here to ask about fishin’.”

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