anyway, since Clayton wasn’t the investigating officer in charge of Riggs’s case. “We just want to ask you a few questions.”
Riggs wasn’t alone. There were two men in suits, one on each side of him. His lawyers, no doubt. Clayton had figured they’d be there, but he hoped their presence wouldn’t discourage Riggs from talking. Of course, even if Riggs did talk, he might not tell them anything.
“Questions?” Riggs repeated. He made a show of looking surprised by that. “Guess you’d want to figure out what’s going on. Heard you and Lenora had a bit of trouble. You two are regular bullet magnets, aren’t you?”
Clayton tried not to have any outward reaction to that, but he hated this man making light of an attack that could have killed Lenora, him and their baby.
“Did you have anything to do with these latest bullets?” Clayton asked.
“Certainly not.” Riggs’s tone was mocking, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re mistaken again. Just like you were about the other incident involving that pretty little thing, Jill Lang. I didn’t have anything to do with that, either.”
“Other than killing her,” Lenora mumbled.
Riggs made a tsk-tsk sound. “That’s all speculation at this point. That’s why we have trials in this country.”
Clayton had to admire the man’s audacity, but it was that same audacity and cockiness that would make it harder to get info from him. All he needed was for Riggs to slip up and say something they could use. Clayton didn’t have anything specific he could use to unhinge the man, but he was ready to bluff and make Riggs think that he did.
“You have a powerful motive for wanting Lenora and me out of the way,” Clayton tossed out there.
Riggs shrugged. “I’m sure you have a lot of confidence in your skills on the witness stand, Marshal, but I have that same confidence in my lawyers. So there goes any motive you might think I have to silence you.”
It was pure bravado. There was too much evidence against him, but Clayton didn’t want to get into the specifics of the trial.
“If you didn’t hire someone to fire those bullets at us,” Clayton said, “then who did?”
“Oh, so now you want me to do your job for you?” Riggs taunted.
“No. But if you didn’t have anything to do with it, you might want to use this opportunity to clear your name. Well, clear your name about this, anyway.”
Clayton braced himself for another smart-mouth reply, and to help motivate Riggs, he added, “We’ve been studying your prison visit logs and communications we have authorization to view from your lawyers. Not just their communications with you, but with others. It seems as if everything we uncover about this attack leads directly back to you.”
One of the lawyers, a bald guy with a shiny head and face, immediately leaned over and whispered something to Riggs. The other lawyer, who was much younger, nodded. Which meant they’d likely told their client not to comment.
But Riggs spoke anyway. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’ve done something illegal, like wiretaps or peeking at privileged lawyer-client communications.”
Now Clayton shrugged. “The justice department’s involved.” And that was a reminder that the JD could indeed get wiretap approvals. They hadn’t in this case, not that Clayton knew of, anyway. But it was a threatening reminder that secrets often didn’t stay secrets for long.
“Agent James Britt is investigating,” Clayton added.
More whispers from the lawyer, but Riggs pushed him away with his forearm and nailed his gaze to Lenora and Clayton. “You’re both fools to trust Agent Britt.” He practically spat out the man’s name. “Yeah, he’s investigating the shooting, but it’s only to save his own hide.”
Clayton didn’t like the way James’s name kept coming up in conversations that linked him to what was going on with them.
“What does that mean—he’s trying to save his own hide?” Lenora pressed.
Again, Riggs pushed aside his lawyer’s attempt to say something to him. “I mean if you want to check some communications, take a long look at Agent Britt’s.” Riggs paused, smiled again. “He’s connected to the shooter at the diner.”
That felt like a punch to the gut. Clayton already knew about that connection, that Dayton was a criminal informant, but he’d only recently found out.
How long had Riggs known?
And how had he found out? Judging from Riggs’s smirk, he wouldn’t volunteer that, but Clayton tried anyway.
“What do you know about James and the dead hit man?” Clayton pressed.
“Only what I’ve heard through the