Renegade (Tin Star K9 Series Book 1) by Jodi Burnett (literature books to read .txt) 📗

was, he wasn’t sure how it was all going to turn out. The one thing he could do was make certain things went by the book between the sheriff and Caitlyn’s brother until he could take Dylan home. Maybe later, Colt would have another chance to ease Caitlyn’s mind about the murder. Having her truck gave him the perfect excuse to see her.

“Tell me again, why you think I’m a suspect?” Dylan asked from behind them. He’d been angry when the sheriff wanted to bring him into the office for questioning, but it sounded like he’d calmed down a bit. Colt was glad about that, because it meant it was less likely something would go terribly wrong.

“I’m not saying you’re a suspect,” the sheriff answered. “I just have a few more questions for you.”

“Well, finish asking them. I’ve been here all afternoon.” Dylan leaned back against the chair and glared at Tackett.

The sheriff had handcuffed Dylan to the armrest. In one way, Colt understood the sheriff’s caution. Dylan had a reputation for his short temper, and Colt didn’t want to have to wrestle the man into the jail cell if things went south. The last thing he wanted was to get in a physical altercation with Caitlyn’s older brother. But on the other hand, restraining a person who came in willingly for questioning could look bad in court.

“Sir, again,” Colt whispered. “I’d like to suggest we follow protocol as closely as possible. I think we should un-cuff him. You never know what a sharp attorney might make out of the way Dylan is being treated. Cuffing him isn’t exactly kosher.”

The Sheriff’s eyebrows shot up, and he raised his voice. “If we find out that the body belongs to Wendy Gessler and that Dylan here had something to do with that, we’ll be the heroes of the day.”

Colt narrowed his eyes. “That’s a big leap, sir.”

Having heard that part of their conversation, Dylan muttered from behind them, “It’s a blind leap. I had nothing to do with Wendy’s disappearance, or the grave at the top of the ridge.”

Colt shook his head. “Sorry about this, man,” he murmured to Dylan.

“Not your fault.” With his chin held high, Dylan met the sheriff’s gaze with a glacial one of his own.

“Deputy Branson, set up the recording equipment on my desk,” Sheriff Tackett ordered.

“Yes, sir.” Colt didn’t want to be part of this, but he didn’t have a choice. Not if he wanted to keep his job. So, he went into the storage room and found the decrepit recorder. The old piece of 20th-century junk wouldn’t do half the job a simple iPhone would do, but Colt didn’t bother telling the Sheriff that. The man still carried a flip-phone with no photo capability.

Colt set the recorder on the sheriff’s desk, and his boss slid into his chair, glowering at Dylan. “Let’s go over the questions again so I can record your answers.” Tackett pressed a stubby finger on the record button. “Today is Monday, May 17th. Present in this interview are myself, Sheriff Bruce Tackett, along with Deputy Colt Branson. We are interviewing Dylan Reed regarding a dead body found this day on his property. We suspect the decedent might be one Wendy Gessler, a local woman missing since Friday, May 14th. First, and foremost, for the sake of the recording, I would like to state that Mr. Reed is not under arrest and has willingly agreed to this query.”

“I’m not sure I agree about being willing,” Dylan stated.

“To clarify, I requested Mr. Reed come in for questioning, and I drove him to the Sheriff’s Office in my vehicle. At no time was Mr. Reed coerced to attend this interview.” He shifted his gaze to Colt. “Do you concur, Deputy Branson?”

Colt sighed. The Sheriff’s words were technically true. “Yes, Mr. Reed has been very cooperative.”

The Sheriff tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes at Colt before picking up a stack of papers and leveling them with a snap on his desk. He lay them down and spread his hands over them. “Let’s begin. Mr. Reed, how long have you known Wendy Gessler?”

“Since grade school, I suppose. I didn’t pay much attention to her, but I knew who she was.”

“But you paid more attention when she got older? Didn’t you date Wendy after you two were out of school?”

Dylan regarded the sheriff for a moment. “I think we dated two or three times.”

“Who broke it off?”

“There was nothing to break off. Like I said, we went out a couple of times. That’s it.”

“Were there any hard feelings between the two of you after that?”

Dylan shifted in the chair. “No.”

“And you never took her out again?”

A shrug accompanied his answer. “Not really.”

Tackett leaned forward. “Not really? What does that mean?”

“We live in the same town, so I’ve seen her around.”

It occurred to Colt that Dylan hadn’t exactly answered the question, but the sheriff moved on.

“Where were you last Friday night between the hours of four p.m. and midnight?”

“I spent the early part of the evening at the Tipsy Cow. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of people who saw me there.”

“Did you see Wendy that night?”

“Yeah, she was there.”

“And you spoke with her?”

“A little.”

The sheriff nodded smugly. “And the rest of the evening?”

Dylan hesitated, but he stared Tackett in the eye. “Then, I went home.”

“And you can prove that?”

“My folks left for Gillette that night after dinner. They went for the weekend, so no one was home with me. My mom called me on the house phone though, so I suppose she knows I was there.”

Sheriff Tackett sat in his chair and rested his entwined hands on his belly. “That leaves several hours unaccounted for then, doesn’t it?”

“I had no reason to think I was going to need an alibi while I was sleeping.” Dylan leaned forward to brace his arms on his knee, causing the handcuffs to jangle. The back-and-forth between the two men was like a ping pong game that had turned into a chess