Page 83 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

Harrison Dunne’s

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Sunday

Late Morning

D eciding who would be up first to interview was simple. The weather was getting ugly, so they did the furthest interview from the city first. That way, they’d be closer to home when it was bad out.

So, the professor was up to bat.

Pulling up to the man’s home, they were a little surprised that it was as big as it was. Someone definitely had money, despite the research that had been done saying that he had not inherited any of it.

Where did he get this kind of wealth from?

Could it be from selling victims into the sex trade and pushing Snow to people?

All they knew was that they had to get to the bottom of it because as of that moment, the man’s lifestyle kept him at the top of the suspect list.

He had a shit ton of cars in the driveway, and all of them were fancy.

And covered in snow.

Gene took pictures of them, logging them for the case file when he filed his report.

“And the assholes said that the seller drove a white Mercedes Benz?” Gene asked, making sure he had that right.

Ethan nodded.

“I don’t see one here,” he stated.

Yeah, Gene either.

When they heard someone shouting, as he was taking pictures, they both looked over.

There was a man standing in the doorway of the mansion, and he didn’t look happy that people were around the cars.

“I’m going to call the police if you don’t get out of my driveway!” he shouted. “Who do you think you are? This is private property!”

Oh, Gene was going to enjoy this one.

He.

Could.

Tell.

Someone was ridiculous, and they hadn’t even started questioning him yet.

Both men pulled back their coats, and that gave the gentleman, and that was a term used lightly, a better look at what was on their hips.

Guns and badges.

He stopped yelling.

Now, he was watching them move closer, and he was pretty sure he looked like he wanted to go back inside and escape.

“Twitchy, isn’t he?” Ethan asked, seeing the man’s face.

Gene was glad he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Uh-huh. Don’t get shot,” he said, just in case.

As they approached, he stood there with his sweater clutched around him as the wind blew.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Gene and Ethan pulled their badges so the man could see they weren’t just cops.

They were Feds.

“Professor Harrison Dunne?” Gene asked.

The man nodded.

“Yes?”

They explained why they were there, and the whole time, it was clear he didn’t want them inside. It was cold as balls out there, and the wind was out of control.

But instead of an invite, he was playing sentry to that door.

The question was why?

“We’ve taken over a case from the local police, and we’re just reinterviewing anyone who is tied to it. Your name came up, and we’re here to talk to you.”

He looked confused.

“I don’t know what kind of case I would be tied to,” he admitted.

Ethan asked.

“Can we come in? This might take a few minutes, and you look like you’re cold,” he offered, switching it up to get the man to invite them inside.

“Oh. Sure,” he said.

The man backed up, giving them access to his home, and the inside was just as nice as the outside.

Someone liked things.

FINER.

THINGS.

There were paintings with famous artist’s signatures, statues carved out of marble, and pillars that screamed ‘old wealth’ .

If anything, this piqued their interest even more. They knew he’d been trolling on that website to meet a rich man, and it appeared that he had.

Well, score one for Harrison.

The man led them to a sitting area, and they took seats on the couch. Before Gene could even tell him why they were there, the man was off to the races.

“I hope you can explain,” he admitted. “I’m curious enough to want to know why you were in my driveway taking pictures of the cars.”

Gene bet he was.

Only, he wasn’t revealing anything until he was ready to.

“And you’re Harrison Dunne? A professor of Political Science at Villanova and Temple?” he asked, beginning the questioning.

The man nodded.

“Yes, I’m a professor there, and I’m indeed Harrison Dunne. What I don’t know is why you’re here. I wish you’d get to the reason.”

Oh, he bet.

Instead of saying anything, Gene began asking questions to see if they could tie this man to the case, or if this was going to be a bust.

He kept going.

“Can you tell us how well you knew Elliot Graves, Wesley Thorton, and Graham Sinclair?” he asked.

The man only reacted to the last name, and Ethan saw him try not to respond. There was that flicker of recognition, and now here came the denial.

He’d bet his badge on it.

“I’m sure you’ve made a mistake. I don’t know the men. Could you be mistaken?”

Tsk.

Tsk.

Tsk.

Someone was lying.

Gene had been doing this for a while, so he could tell when someone was trying to evade. They always asked a question in return as they tried to formulate an answer by buying themselves time.

He clarified.

“Two were students in classes you teach, and one was your teaching assistant. You don’t know who teaches your classes in your absence?” he asked, skeptically. “Are you bad with names? Let me show you their faces,” he said, as Ethan pulled out a file with the men’s driver’s licenses for him to see.

Gene made sure that he stared at the man with ‘the look’ . It was the one that said, ‘someone’s in some shit because we know they’re lying’ .

Funny enough, his memory came back.

Shocking.

“Oh, him,” he said, pointing at Graham. “Yes, he’s my TA, but I assure you that I have A LOT of students. I couldn’t pick them out if they were here in the room with me.”

Ethan switched it up.

“Do you give tests?” he asked, playing the man’s game. They needed him to admit he knew the men, or this was going to be a shit interview that got them nowhere.

The man stared at him.

“Of course, I do. Why?”

Ethan went there.

“So you don’t grade the tests you give to them?” he asked, calmly.

The man hesitated, and Ethan knew he was trying to figure out where this was going.

Nowhere good.

That was for sure.

Finally, he answered.

“Yes, I grade them, but my TA puts the grades in the book. I don’t do that. I also don’t pay attention to the names. I simply read the papers, and grade the tests.”

Well, two could play that game.

“Oh, and who has been doing that since Graham went missing weeks ago?” Ethan asked.

Gene wanted to laugh. Ethan was the last person you wanted to play a game of mental gymnastics with, in a questioning.

He was damn good at this.

Harrison paused, and then needed to know.

“Is this necessary?” he asked, skipping the question like he had every right to dismiss it in the world. “I’m still not sure why you’re here. That might be helpful to know since I’m being incredibly nice.”

Spoiler…

He wasn’t.

Technically, he was evading—not being nice.

“Just answer the question,” Gene said. “Because we’re curious how fast you replaced him. Then, we can discuss why we’re here.”

The man stood his ground.

“I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating,” he admitted.

Gene didn’t give two shits what he liked or didn’t like. The man was giving off that vibe, and Gene was like a Bloodhound.

He was on the scent, and not letting go. In fact, he was willing to bet that Harrison Dunne knew exactly what this was about.

His TA went missing, and he dreaded this conversation, but why?

Gene was betting sex.

Things aways came down to a few things.

Sex.

Money.

Hate.

As for irritation…

Know who didn’t have problems answering questions? People who weren’t guilty.

“And I don’t think I like how you’re not answering, so I guess we’ll have to work on that,” Gene said, but he’d tell him why they were here, simply because he believed it might rattle him.

It was time to shake the rich tree and see what fell out.

“I’m asking because your name came up in an ongoing investigation where three men were used as drug mules, sexually assaulted, and sold off to perverts.

You’re sitting here in a big house, had contact with all three, and no inheritance to your name to justify all the marble in the place. Care to explain?”

That was all it took.

The man gasped but he still looked afraid.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Gene didn’t back down.

“I mean, I think I was pretty clear. How many cars do you have?” he asked. “And why didn’t you realize that your TA has been missing from his teaching position for you for weeks?”

The forty-something man stared in surprise.

“Why is that pertinent? Also, why do I have to answer such a personal question that is none of your business?”

He smiled.

“Because it is my business since we’re investigating three murders,” he said. “Now, which question would you like to answer before we take a little trip to an interrogation room.”

When they saw movement from the doorway, a MUCH older man headed their way. From the slow walk and the gray hair, he had to be in his late seventies.

Yep.

Someone had bagged himself a rich old man. That was for damn sure. The fat Rolex on his wrist said it all.

“Harrison, what is going on?” he asked.

Gene and Ethan stood.

“Sir,” he said, shaking the man’s hand to keep the tempo going.

“I’m Special Agent Gene Cantrell, and this is my partner, Special Agent Ethan Blackhawk.

We’re here to talk to Harrison regarding a case where he’s connected to three deceased men, two of which were his students, and one that was his teaching assistant. ”

The second Gene said it, the much older man looked horrified.

Oh, and they knew why.

Old DC money didn’t like scandal, and this man was definitely old money.

Hell.

He was definitely old.

Gene would bet someone had one hell of a Viagra prescription somewhere in this house. His boy toy was half his age.

No one willingly chased wrinkled old man.

So who was Harrison really chasing?

“Harrison, what is he talking about? How are you being connected to this mess?”

They watched the man squirm as the older man questioned him.

When Harrison touched his arm, and stared into his eyes, both Ethan and Gene knew one thing.

Someone had a sugar daddy.

AN OLD ONE.