Page 51 of Deadly Revenge

Even though she didn’t think the old man would shoot her, Jenna couldn’t help being nervous. Mr. Darby sat on the front porch. He didn’t look much like a hermit—she’d always pictured a hermit with tattered overalls and long white hair and beard.

Instead, he was still dressed in his khakis and a plaid shirt. A black dog lay at his feet, at least she thought it was a dog, but her gaze was on the deer rifle across his lap. A chill raced down her back. He could’ve killed them if he’d wanted.

What made him so paranoid? The question ate at her. She approached the porch and stopped when the huge, shaggy-haired dog stood. A low growl rumbled from his throat. “Afternoon. Does he bite?”

He nodded. “Down, Bear.”

Appropriate name. The dog circled and lay at Darby’s feet, but he watched Jenna’s every move. There’d be no sneaking up on his owner.

She propped her foot against the bottom step. “Any chance you’d put that rifle down?”

“Might’ve if you’d come alone.”

“Max won’t hurt you. He’s—”

“TBI.”

“You knew?”

“Heard some people at the diner talking about you and the TBI agent.” He cocked his head to the side. “So what makes you think the Slaters were murdered now—two hours ago you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say they were murdered.”

“Didn’t have to. Three people are dead and you’re here to question me—doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out it’s murder.”

That must be why he let her come to the house—he wanted to know how they died. Maybe she could leverage that. “A couple of things. Can Max join us?”

His lips twitched. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me anything if he doesn’t.”

She smiled her answer, and he gave a curt nod. “Hey, Max, come on up.”

Darby leaned the rifle against the straight-back chair as Max joined them at the porch. When Bear saw him, the ruff of his neck rose and a low growl rumbled in his throat. “It’s okay. At ease,” Darby said.

The dog settled back down but stayed wary as she introduced the two men. “And that’s Bear.” She pointed to the dog.

“Aptly named. Thanks for letting me join you,” Max said.

“Don’t thank me, thank your partner here—she’s beyond stubborn.”

Jenna swallowed a smile. “I think of myself as independent.”

“Ha!” Max said. “Mr. Darby here has the right word.” Thatmade the old man smile. Max nodded at the dog. “What breed is Bear?”

“Good question. If I had to guess, I’d say some St. Bernard and some Lab, maybe a little Heinz 57.” He rubbed the huge dog’s head. “Okay, tell me about the Slaters, Paul Nelson too, if you know any more.”

Jenna nodded. “Nelson was shot and buried in a shallow grave near where you used to hunt with my dad.”

He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “And Slater? You figured out yet the wreck wasn’t an accident?”

“Pretty sure you’re right—tie-rod came loose on that new vehicle of his and the nut holding it looks tampered with,” Max said.

Color drained from the man’s face.

“What can you tell us about them?” Jenna asked. “Do you know who would want them dead?”

“Just about anyone who had dealings with them during Harrison Carter’s early administration, especially the dam project.”

“Was there anyone who was for the dam project?” Max asked.

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