“No,” Dean said.
“It might be worth considering,” Bree said. “Be sure to lock your doors.”
“I will.” Dean frowned at his breakfast, as if he were no longer hungry.
Bree couldn’t blame him. “Call if you have any concerns.”
“OK.” Dean pushed his plate aside, and his gaze drifted to the expanse of glass that spanned the rear of the house.
Great view.
So open.
But also vulnerable.
“We can see ourselves out.” Matt led the way back to the front door. They went outside.
“It’s a good alibi.”
“Yes.” Matt glanced back at Dean’s place. “I didn’t get any deceptive vibes from him at all, but I’ll call the hospital to confirm his story.”
Bree scanned the woods that loomed behind the house. The beautiful view came with a price. Isolation.
Matt tracked the package online. “We’re in luck. The package was delivered at 5:20 p.m. I’m going to call the distribution center and see if we can talk to the driver.” He lifted his phone to his ear and talked his way to a supervisor. A few minutes later, he lowered it.
“The driver is finishing his morning run now. He’s due back at the distribution center in about twenty minutes to load up for his second route. If we hurry, we can catch him.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the passenger seat of the sheriff’s SUV, Matt checked the driver’s motor vehicle records on the dashboard computer while Bree drove toward the distribution center.
“The driver’s name is Kent Barone. He’s been with the delivery service for eight years.” Matt scanned Kent’s motor vehicle records. “He has a couple of speeding tickets, but that’s all I see.”
She turned into the parking lot of a huge warehouse near the entry ramp for the interstate.
“Park at the office. The supervisor is calling Barone in to talk to us while his truck is being reloaded.”
Bree drove past the loading bays full of delivery vans and parked in front of the office. They went inside. The supervisor met them in the lobby and escorted them down a fluorescent hallway. “Kent’s waiting for you in the break room.” He jerked a thumb at the doorway.
“We won’t keep him long,” Bree said.
Matt led the way into a typical break room. A single refrigerator stood in the corner. Microwave ovens were lined up on the counter. Plastic chairs clustered around a few small round tables.
A tall, thin African American man in a gray uniform sat at a table. He stood as they entered, and they crossed the scuffed linoleum floor.
“Mr. Barone?” Bree asked, stopping in front of him.
“Yeah. You can call me Kent,” he said.
“I’m Sheriff Taggert.” Bree gestured to Matt. “And this is Criminal Investigator Flynn.”
Bree took the chair across from Kent and waited for him to sit. Matt pulled another chair up to the table next to Kent.
Kent’s gaze darted back and forth between Matt and Bree. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Bree assured him. “We just need to ask you a few questions about your route from yesterday evening.”
“Why?” Kent asked.
Ignoring his question, Bree read off Dean Unger’s street address. “You delivered a package to this house yesterday evening?”
Kent nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you deliver to that street often?” Bree asked.
Clearly uncomfortable, Kent shifted in his chair. “A couple times a week. What the hell is going on?”
“Did you notice anything unusual yesterday evening?”
“What do you mean by unusual?” Kent’s voice rose. “I dropped the package and left. I’m on a tight schedule, especially this time of year. Business is already up for the holidays. It’s like folks are already in a rush this year. Why do you want to know? Tell me what’s going on,” he demanded.
Bree and Matt exchanged a look. They wanted information without bias, but Kent was too worried.
“A man was killed at the house across the street,” Matt said.
Kent paled. “Killed?”
“Yes,” Bree said.
Kent stood abruptly, sending his chair sliding backward with a high-pitched scrape. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“We didn’t suggest that you did.” Matt kept his voice calm.
Kent lifted his chin. “You are not pinning this on me.”
“Of course not.” Bree looked puzzled. “I assure you, you’re not under suspicion.”
Kent’s mouth turned down in a doubtful frown.
Matt decided to stop dancing around Kent’s attitude. “You’re clearly upset. Can I ask why?”
“I was pulled over two weeks ago by locals for no reason.” Kent spit out the words. “They pulled me from my vehicle and made me do every sobriety test they could think of. They tried to provoke me into doing something stupid. Thankfully, I am not stupid.”
“Did they give you a Breathalyzer?” Bree asked.
Kent shook his head. “Nope. They knew I wasn’t drunk. It was pure harassment.”
Bree’s brows lowered. “Were they sheriff’s deputies?”
“No.” Kent’s jaw tightened. “And I won’t say which department they were with. I don’t want to start any trouble. But now you know why I’m so touchy.”
“I’m sorry you experienced that, Kent.” Bree’s voice softened. “I assure you, we only want your help.”
Matt scanned their positions. He’d wanted a clear view of Kent’s body language, but he’d inadvertently boxed him in. Matt understood that he was a very large, sometimes intimidating person. Usually, that worked to his advantage, but occasionally, his stature got in the way.
Like now.
He leaned back to give Kent some room. If the man had been recently harassed by police, Matt invading his personal space wouldn’t convince him to cooperate.
Kent pulled out his chair and sat back down, leaving more distance between himself and Matt. Then he gave Matt and Bree each a long look, as if making a decision. “I did see something different on that street.”
Matt and Bree waited, not rushing him.
Kent licked his lips. “There’s a house for sale across the street from the delivery address. I’ve never seen anyone there. But yesterday, I saw a vehicle in the driveway.” He shrugged.
“Can you describe the vehicle?” Bree asked.
Kent closed his eyes. “It was white.”
“Sedan, SUV . . . ?” Matt prompted.
Kent’s eyes opened. “It was bigger than a sedan. Maybe an SUV or minivan?” Was that a statement or a question?
“You’re not sure?” Bree confirmed.
“No.” He looked thoughtful for a few seconds. “Sorry. I didn’t pay better attention. I noticed it as I was driving away. I didn’t stop to get a better look. I just noted it as odd and kept going.” He brightened. “I’m pretty sure it was white, though.”
Pretty sure . . .
“That’s OK,” Matt assured him. “We appreciate the information.”
Bree drew a business card from her pocket and set it on the table. “If you remember anything else, please call me.”