Page 9 of More Than Nothing
She wasn’t as fresh-faced as she looked at first glance, and there were lines around her lips that added a tight twist to her mouth. Dyed a vibrant shade of red, her loose, straggly hair would have benefited from either a wash or a brush.
Athena took off the shades slowly in a move Roman suspected she may have practiced in front of a mirror. Her shrewd gaze skipped from him to Dougie and back again, while he assessed her in return. Though he found some similarity in the shape of her face and the neatness of her nose, nothing else reminded him of Elenie. Athena was sharper, more jaded, less natural.
Roman pulled out a perfunctory smile along with his badge. “My name is Chief Martinez. This is Deputy Officer Taggart. We’d like to speak to Frank, please.”
“Looks like someone’s expanded the budget for the Pine Springs PD.” Her eyes, beneath the layers of makeup, flickered with interest.
“Is he here?”
“Why would you need to know?”
Apparently, they were both going to avoid each other’s questions.
“You’re a definite improvement on the last one.” Athena gave a flirty eyebrow raise. “I’ve heard a lot about you already. Have your ears been burning?” She leaned forward to trace slim fingers over the emblem on his chest. Dougie gave a strangled cough as Roman took a step backward out of her reach, repelled by the calculated move and her empty eyes. In an instant, she switched from predatory to bored. “Frank’s out back, in the garage.”
“Thank you.”
Athena closed the door on them as they walked around the side of the house.
“I think she likes you,” Dougie muttered out of one side of his mouth, humor dancing in his voice. “Sorry for third-wheeling.”
Roman huffed in answer.
Good-natured and uncomplicated, it was impossible not to warm to Dougie. He was also a little immature and lacking in some of the solid basic training Chief Roberts should have drilled into him, but he knew the town well and was universally liked. That mattered in a place as small as Pine Springs. Every bit of inside knowledge was a head start, every smooth relationship a bonus in a close-knit community of just 2,446 residents. Roman was keen to encourage him to step up his game and take more responsibility within the team.
They followed the sound of male voices. Just as they reached the garage, a meaty hand pushed one of the doors open from the inside and Frank Dax emerged into the sunshine. He fixed Roman and Dougie with an unruffled half-smile, wiping oily hands on a rag that looked unlikely to make them any cleaner. Trailing behind—always the bridesmaid, never the bride—came Tyson, who closed the garage door firmly at a nod from his dad.
Roman did the formal introductions for a second time.
“How can I help you, Chief?” Frank Dax folded his arms loosely across a broad-barreled chest. A simple gold chain was just visible around his wide neck beneath the collar of a black polo shirt.
“At just after eleven p.m. last night, Ray Parker’s truck was torched on his driveway.” Roman studied Frank’s face for any kind of tell. “We received a report of a disagreement in the Rusty Barrel two nights ago between yourself and Mr. Parker, so we wanted your take on the situation.”
Frank’s smile didn’t waver but it also didn’t reach his eyes. He gave a careless shrug. “I can’t help you. I had a few wordswith Parker over something and nothing. Don’t even remember what about now. And last night, I was here with the family. We watched a movie.”
“There are multiple witnesses to the fight in the bar,” Roman recounted, “and three separate people heard you harassing Ray again in the parking lot. Sounds like more than a few words.”
Frank sighed. “I might have said some things I’m not proud of but I came home and put it behind me.” He rolled one shoulder as if to loosen a tight muscle. “Shame about Parker’s truck. I hope you find out who did it.”
Roman let the loaded silence grow heavy as he took a moment to size up the older man. Frank Dax might have been carrying a little more weight than was good for him but he was far from out of shape. Close-cropped hair liberally sprinkled with gray, his thick eyebrows framed hooded eyes over a wide nose, narrow lips, and stubble. Faded tattoos ran from his wrists up each arm, twisted chains weaving between a melted clockface, skulls, and sea creatures.
Masking his personal feelings, legs planted, Roman was keenly aware his own six feet and two inches gave him a towering edge over the far shorter duo. “Mind if I take a look inside your garage?”
It was worth a try.
“Well, now, I’d like to say yes.” Frank’s voice was placid. “But a man’s home is his castle and, unless you have a warrant, I think I’ll pass on this occasion.” He turned to thread a thick chain through the double handles of the garage doors, pushing the shackle of a large padlock into place to hold the links. “It’s been nice to meet you, Chief. Always happy to welcome someone new in town.”
A vein pulsed in Tyson’s temple, even as he grinned. He was finding it harder to stand still than his father, control less securely mastered under the surface of his skin.
There was nothing more to be achieved here for now. “Thank you for your time. I like to put a face to a name.” Roman made to turn away but halted at the last minute. “What was the movie?” He aimed the question at Tyson.
“Huh?”
“What movie did you watch last night?”
Tyson’s mouth flapped as the question caught him by surprise. There were clearly zero options running through his brain. Roman felt more than saw Dougie fight to suppress a smirk.
“Sleepless in Seattle.” All three of them turned to look at Frank.
