Page 13

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

“Welcome to the Penalty Box, folks. Derek Russell, proud owner. What can I help you with?”

“Derek freaking Russell.” Jack hops out of his chair and shakes the man’s hand. “Jackson Stone. We went to Aspen Heights together.”

“Geez.” The man’s eyes widen as he takes Jack in. “Jackie?” He slaps him on the shoulder with a laugh.

“Join us,” Jack invites him and they both fall into a chair. “Dude, you’re the owner here?”

Jack doesn’t say dude. It’s not in his lexicon, or if it is, it’s something he’s been keeping from me. But he’s putting on a darn good show.

Derek laughs. “Yeah, can you believe it? Took over the Penalty Box about a year ago when I got back to Colorado.” He looks to Nikki and me. “I was working construction with my uncle in Connecticut for a while but got tired of throwing my back out of joint. Now I just throw my bank account out of joint.”

We share a laugh at the thought.

“Derek, these are my friends, Nikki and Fallon,” Jack says. “I was just giving them a tour of my old stomping grounds and saw this place, so we stopped in for a bite.”

Jack did grow up in Elmwood. He’s quick on his feet, I’ll give him that.

“Nice to meet you, ladies.” Derek offers us an amicable smile while mapping out our faces a moment too long. Most likely trying to decide which one he’d like to steal for the night. He gives a slight wink over at Nikki.

Winner, winner, Nikki dinner.

I frown over at Jack and he lifts his brows my way as if he were amused.

“It’s been a long time.” Jack sighs over at Derek, his sober personality shining through a bit more. “You going to the reunion?”

“Dude, I would not miss it.”

Dude. It must be a catching condition. But it’s probably best that Jack speaks his language.

“I hear we’re ditching a fancy hotel in lieu of the home of sweat socks.” Derek laughs as he says it.

“It’s true.” Jack shrugs at Nikki and me. “It’s not at a fancy hotel. It’s at the school gym which, by the way, was rebuilt from the ground up a few years back and has more bells and whistles than most hotel ballrooms. Our class voted to abscond the pricey hotel, collect the funds, and donate them to charity instead. It’s our little contribution to the world.”

“So that’s where you get your altruism from,” Nikki teases with a wink.

“I had to learn something from that place,” Jack says before tipping his head to the guy. “Have you heard the news?”

Derek’s expression quickly sobers up as well. “Yeah, I heard it. Something about Brittney Walker missing and then Robin getting slaughtered in her own home?” He leans back as a despondent look takes over briefly. “What the heck is this world coming to?”

“Have you seen either of them lately?” Jack asks a little too direct to be polite.

All hints of anything jovial melt right off of our suspect’s face.

He glances at Nikki and me before returning his gaze to Jack.

“Didn’t I hear you work for the cops or something now?” Derek’s lips purse as he fixates on his old buddy.

“FBI.” Jack’s right arm flinches as if he were about to reach for his badge but thought better of it.

Derek casts another glance at Nikki and me and we both nod his way as if to affirm his suspicions.

“I take it this isn’t some random dinner at the bar then.” The man sits up and his chest expands as he wraps his head around it.

“Nope.” Jack strums his fingers over the table, his face like flint. “Tell us what you know.”

“Geez, I haven’t spoken to either one of them in years.” He blinks a little too much, a little too long.

Jack, Nikki, and I exchange a glance because we happen to know he’s lying right off the bat. We saw those messages he left Robin. They were recent. And Vanessa seemed to be under the impression he was dating Brittney. I guess we’ll see about that.

“You haven’t reached out to either of them since you’ve been back in Colorado?” Jack tries to jog his memory.

“Nope.” Derek sits up straight. He’s getting nervous now, too.

“Okay,” Jack says softly. “I spoke to Nessa Copeland recently.” He nods, trying to walk Derek into the conversation. “It was her mother’s house that Brittney was showing when she was taken. Nessa seemed under the impression you were dating Brittney.”

Derek goes rigid and his casual demeanor evaporates in an instant.

“Dating? Nope,” he says it so fast, I tend to believe him. Although we can’t rule out hooking up. “We were friends, sure. We met for coffee a couple of times to catch up. But dating? That’s not what it was.” His denial is as swift as it is strong, leaving little room for doubt about his stance on the matter. But he is picking at his fingernails. He’s still nervous enough.

“When did you see her last?” I ask.

“Let’s see.” He lifts his chin and glances at the ceiling, his lips moving as if he were counting. “I guess Brittney did stop by a few weeks back. That’s right, she was doing a showing in Elmwood.”

“That seems out of her territory.” Nikki looks to Jack for confirmation.

“Could be.” He shrugs. “According to her social media, she painted herself as an upper crust mover and shaker.”

A dull laugh thumps through Derek. “She wishes. She wasn’t moving half the houses she would have let you believe. She told me inventory was low and so was her checking account. She was even asking if I’d want to sell this place. Sounded pretty desperate to me.”

“What about Robin?” I ask. “When did you see her last?”

His eyes flit to the bar for a moment. “She came by, too. Always friendly, always inviting me to sit and have lunch with her.” He taps his hand over the table. “What do you need? Security footage? Want me to take a lie detector test? Maybe have a séance in here to help track down the killer? Man, I don’t have anything to hide.” His lips tug at the edges like maybe he does.

A waitress drops off our wings and sodas, breaking the spell.

“I think we have enough for now,” Jack says, flicking his card at his friend.

“Take mine,” Nikki says a little too eagerly and the man takes hers instead.

“Dinner is on me,” he says, winking her way once again before frowning at Jack. “I’m sure we’ll talk.”

He takes off and we stare at one another for a few seconds.

I shake my head at Nikki. “Are you determined to sleep with every killer in Colorado?”

“The slice of beefcake is innocent until proven guilty. Change my mind,” she says, digging into the wings.

I shoot Jack a look. “We had better change her mind quickly. Secure the footage.”

“He did offer.” He toasts me with a wing.

We make quick work of the spicy treats, and then we make quick work of the burgers, too.

Derek claims not to know what happened to Brittney or Robin, but he wasn’t above lying right to our faces. We already secured that fact.

Derek Russell has a secret, and it makes me wonder if it’s a killer secret indeed.