Page 11 of Bait and Switch (Subtle Deceptions #2)

“Tell us again about the victim, about Peter Vale. From when you met him to the last time you say you saw him.”

It wouldn’t do to show his impatience with the questions, so Gabe told the deputy exactly what he’d told him and Deputy Eagan less than twenty-four hours before. The rehashing of yesterday’s statement continued, with Spurring asking questions in different ways to catch Gabe in a lie.

“You say you only saw the body after you returned from your errand?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t hear or see anything before you left?”

“No.”

“No strange cars?”

“No.”

He looked down at his notepad. “You and the victim?—”

“His name was Peter. Peter Vale.” Gabe and Peter may not have been involved anymore, but he was a human with a name, not a faceless victim.

Spurring stared at him, his beady eyes narrow. “You say you met Vale at a networking event.”

Statement or question? This guy was getting on Gabe’s nerves. He was tired of repeating himself and wished he could figure out exactly what the deputy was trying to home in on.

“That is exactly where I met him. I can even give you the address if you like.” Gabe kept his hands in his lap, his fingers wrapped around the go-cup so he wouldn’t be tempted to strangle Spurring.

“You were involved in”—Spurring looked down at his notepad again—“investments.”

Again, a statement. Gabe was certain this was an act on Spurring’s part; the chief deputy was not looking at his notes, he knew exactly what questions he wanted to ask Gabriel.

“Yep. We had projects and found investors to help them get off the ground. Sometimes we worked with other groups, sometimes we invested our own money. Why?” he asked innocently. “Do you have cash lying around that you’d like me to invest?”

A sneer twisted his thin lips as the chief deputy leaned forward. He must not have realized how close he was to the table because it rocked and scraped forward a few inches across the vinyl floor. Gabe managed not to startle.

“Peter Vale was not the victim’s legal name. How long had he been using a pseudonym?”

“Peter Vale was a fake name?” Gabe wasn’t able to control his reaction; his eyebrows shot up, and so did his voice.

The hell. He hadn’t known Peter at all, had he?

“How should I know how long? I didn’t know he was using a fake name.

It’s not like I asked him for ID before we jumped into bed together.

Why does it matter now how long he’d been using it?

He’s dead. You should care less about his legal name and more about who killed him. ”

“Maybe he was hiding from someone. Someone you know, and that’s why he was using a fake name. Maybe you found out and used the information to have him killed.”

Gabriel didn’t bother to try and tease the logic out of what Spurring was saying.

“I’m sorry, what? I found out Peter was using an alias and had him offed?

No . Peter and I were romantically involved when we first met, but the bloom wore off pretty damn fast, and by the end we were merely housemates.

I had no reason to harm him. As I have said numerous times, when I left town, I hadn’t seen or spoken to Peter—or whatever his real name is—in weeks. ”

“Why did you leave Seattle?” Spurring demanded.

Gabe hesitated a bit too long before saying, “Among other things, my mother died. It was time to move on.”

Spurring’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that Gabe wasn’t telling him something.

“Can I ask a question?” Gabe asked. Spurring was slow to nod. “What was Peter’s real name?”

The chief deputy stared at him, apparently trying to decide whether Peter’s legal name was classified information or not. Eventually, he spoke. “Vale was the victim’s mother’s maiden name; his birth name was Peter Stevens. Does that change anything you’ve told us?”

Gabe ran through his internal address book and did not come up with anyone named Stevens. Maybe an acquaintance? He shook his head.

“Rings zero bells.” Gabe had to admit that Vale was a much more interesting name than Stevens. “Peter did tell me he was estranged from his family. Maybe just his dad? He never clarified. The subject wasn’t something Peter talked about, so I didn’t pursue it. Have you located his relatives?”

Gabe had assumed Peter’s story was one experienced by far too many, especially those of their age—that Peter’s family had turned their back on him when he came out as gay.

If that was the case, would they care that he’d been murdered?

Fuck that. Rage at the stupidity of humans surged, and Gabe had to take a deep breath to tamp it down.

Damn those dirty socks.

Spurring ignored Gabe’s question. For his part, Gabe tucked away the name Stevens for later.

There were probably thousands of Stevenses in the state, but were there thousands of Vales?

Maybe he could track down Peter’s family himself.

Surely if the TCSO knew Peter’s identity, they’d have reached out to notify the family?

On the other hand, Peter likely had valid reasons for using a different name.

“You know what?” Spurring smacked his pen down and leaned back in the chair.

It popped and Gabe winced, but the chair held.

The deputy tapped a meaty index finger against the tabletop.

“You’re not telling us something, Mr. Karne.

And that something could be what led to Mr. Stevens’s death.

You’ve been on Heartstone for two weeks, and the murder rate has doubled. ”

He didn’t rise to the bait Spurring dangled. No way was he getting into a discussion about Dwayne Perkins’s death. The one thing he was sure of there was that neither he nor the Colavitos had anything to do with Perkins’s demise.

And fuck, it really could have been Lundin who had unknowingly alerted them to Gabe’s location when he did that damn background check. Gabe made a note to find out what service he’d used. Was it possible the long arm of the unlawful had stretched from Seattle to Heartstone?

“Don’t you think it’s wrong to call Peter by a name he actively chose not to use?” Gabriel asked. He was officially tired of the cop’s attitude. Not enough coffee, no breakfast. Too much death.

Spurring shifted his weight, eliciting more protest from the furniture. “It’s my job to get to the truth of what happened to Mr. Stevens. And your job is to tell me the truth about your relationship with the victim.”

Gabriel forced himself not to ask if the deputy had a hearing issue.

“Well, I had nothing to do with his death. I have stated, twice now, that our relationship was over. We weren’t speaking.

I’d moved out and have no idea how he came to be on Heartstone.

As I told you last night, he showed up a week ago and I wasn’t at the marina—ask Ranger Lundin if you don’t believe me, or Elton because I was with him.

Lundin talked to him briefly and Peter left of his own accord.

I expected him to stop by again, but he never did.

End of story. Surely, Lundin’s security feed showed you that. ”

All he got for his trouble was a noncommittal grunt and a sour face at the mention of Lundin’s name.

Gabe figured that they’d watched the video several times already and wished it showed more.

The tape was clear evidence that no one but Gabe and Lundin had entered the dock through the gate in the past week.

Abruptly, Spurring stood up from the table, bumping it with his thigh this time. “Don’t leave town.”

Gabe sucked in another breath, drawing upon a well of patience that was running dry. “You can’t force me to stay in town without cause. If you call me in again, I’m bringing a lawyer along.”

Gabe didn’t want to play the lawyer card, but he would if he had to. So far, he’d been able to skate around the hard facts. And he’d learned that Vale was an alias. It was not a shock, not in their business, but Gabe felt oddly hurt that Peter had never told him.

“You do that,” Spurring retorted with a mean smile. He lumbered to his feet and gestured for Gabriel to leave the room ahead of him.

That man is trouble, Chance, and not in a good way.

Gabe found himself nodding in agreement.

On his short trip back out to the lobby, Gabe heard Elton’s voice.

When Elton spotted Gabriel coming around the corner, he stopped talking and rose to his feet, both bushy white eyebrows raised in question.

Gabe nodded but kept moving toward the exit.

He didn’t have anything to do with Peter’s death, but being in the station made his skin crawl.

Outside the station, the tail end of November weather was living up to its reputation.

It had been a steady rain when he and Elton arrived at the station but now it was pouring, and it seemed that some of the precipitation was slushy snowdrops.

The day had also gotten darker since he’d been inside.

Gabe peered upward, and a drop of water fell into one eye; he blinked it away.

Needing some fresh air after the gym sock assault, Gabe waited next to the passenger door while Elton slowly climbed into the truck and scooted behind the steering wheel. The man seriously needed a step stool.

An older silver Mercedes pulled into the lot and passed by them, parking a few spaces away.

Gabe understood the choice, Elton’s truck menaced .

It hulked, it was a beast. The vehicle lorded over two parking spots all on its own, and then some.

Which was probably why Elton insisted on driving as much as possible, the thing was a tank.

Curiosity piqued, he watched an older-than-him-but-younger-than-Elton man emerge from the Mercedes sedan.

For a moment, the stranger paused next to his vehicle, staring at the greenish-white building.

He was average height and appeared lean under the fitted raincoat he was wearing.

Gabe couldn’t see his face, but he had the sense the man was steeling himself for something unpleasant. There was a reluctance in his stance.

Then the stranger’s shoulders rose and fell as if he’d taken a deep breath to fortify himself, and he began making his way toward the front entrance, his steps slow and measured as he started around the corner.

Just as he turned to push open the door, Gabe caught a glimpse of his profile and had the strangest sensation of familiarity.

“Back to the Ticket ?” Elton asked after Gabe scooted onto the bench seat and shut the door.

Shaking off the twisted déjà vu, Gabe started to agree, but his stomach growled, overruling him. There was nothing decent in his mini-fridge. The rumble was loud enough to be heard over the rain thumping against the cab of the truck. Glancing across the bench seat, he caught Elton’s amused glance.

“Hungry? Let’s head over to the Geoduck Inn. They have breakfast until noon, and the burgers are good too.”

Gabe’s stomach rumbled again. “I think that’s a great idea.

” He felt vaguely guilty about being hungry, as if his body needed to work harder than it was at mourning Peter.

But on the other hand, maybe the best way to grieve him was to figure out who the fuck murdered him since the Twana County Sheriff’s Office wasn’t going to.