and then said, “Yes, that would be better.”
Toni had a feeling that wasn’t exactly the truth, but it didn’t really matter. He brought the car to a stop at the next traffic light and glanced over at her. She stared into the depths of his eyes, understanding more than he was saying. And she knew what she had to do. “Okay.”
“Okay what?” he asked her.
“Okay, I understand how you feel. And to answer your question, you’re right. I would feel the same way if you began dating someone I knew; especially someone I considered one of my friends.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Toni.”
“I believe you, and I won’t do that to you, either. That’s why I’ll make sure any guy I date is not anyone you know.”
He should have been satisfied with that, but when something suddenly flashed in his eyes, she knew he wasn’t. It was just as she’d thought. The idea of her dating at all bothered him. Interesting.
The traffic light changed, and he turned his eyes back to the road, giving her a chance to think about what she’d just discovered. Was Drew’s dislike of her dating something she needed to pay attention to? What if he had cared more for her nearly five years ago than she realized? What if he still cared for her now? Or was he simply acting territorial?
It didn’t take them long to swing by the gun range and pick up the video footage, then take the expressway to the address they had for Byron Nettles. His home was in a well-kept community of townhouses near downtown Alexandria. According to their information, Nettles freelanced as a computer programmer with a sideline gig as a photographer.
Drew rang the doorbell, and it was snatched opened by a man with a fierce frown on his face. He looked to be in his mid-thirties with one of those, “I-need-a-shave look. He was tall and lanky with sandy blonde hair and was dressed in a pair of shorts and a well-worn t-shirt. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
Toni and Drew flashed their badges, almost at the same time. “I’m Detective Logan and this is Detective Oliver. We’re not selling anything, but if you’re Byron Nettles, we need to ask you some questions,” Drew said in a brisk tone.
“I’m Byron Nettles. What’s this about?”
“Not what, but who. Maria Tindal.”
Nettles rubbed a frustrated hand down his face. “Look. If Maria reported me to you guys, don’t waste your time. I am through with her, totally through. She can keep the damn flash drive. She just better be glad I didn’t report her sweet ass to the cops for taking it.”
Toni glanced over at Drew, then back at Nettles. “The reason we’re here, Mr. Nettles, is because Maria Tindal is dead. And we need to find out if you know why.”
• • •
“Maria? Dead?” Nettles asked, nearly stumbling back from the doorway in shock. Toni and Andrew followed him inside. Without saying anything, the man went straight to a bar on the other side of the room. Andrew watched him grab a bottle off the shelf, and without bothering to pour a glass, he drank the liquor straight from the bottle in one gulp.
Damn. And it was scotch. “I hate to interrupt, but we need to ask you some questions,” Andrew said.
The man glanced over at him and Toni and saluted them with his liquor bottle. “Ask away.”
Andrew figured he’d start by addressing the elephant in the room. “Did you kill Maria Tindal?”
The man frowned and slammed the bottle down. “No, I didn’t kill her, but there were a few times when I wanted to wring her goddamn neck.”
“You want to tell us about it?” Toni asked.
The man nodded and then gestured to a couple of chairs at the bar. “What do you want to know?”
“When was the last time you saw or talked to Maria?” Toni asked.
“I called her last week, asking again that she return my flash drive. Maria claimed she didn’t have it, but I know she did.”
“What flash drive?” Andrew asked.
“I’m a computer programmer. However, on the side I’m also a photographer for Wizzin.”
Andrew was confused. “What’s Wizzin?”
“Wizzin is a very elite online auction,” Nettles said. “It’s similar to eBay, but the merchandise is way more expensive. The cost of some items can be as high as several million dollars. You have to be a member of the society to bid, and the cost of membership is high. Ten grand a year.”
“What makes you think