One Night Standoff - By Delores Fossen Page 0,45

Lenora around.

Declan was at his desk, working. Or rather, appearing to work while keeping watch for Melvin’s arrival. Wyatt and Harlan were doing the same. Clayton, too, was at his desk trying to get through the mountain of paperwork that had been piling up in his absence, but it was hard to work with his mind flying in a dozen different directions.

“Showtime,” Harlan announced. “Lt. Ryland just pulled into the parking lot.”

And that meant the wait was finally over. For him, anyway. Clayton turned to Lenora, who was seated in the chair next to his desk.

“I know,” she said before he could speak. “You don’t want me to take any unnecessary chances.”

“I don’t even want you in the same room with him,” Clayton insisted.

He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Clayton led her to the observation room, where she’d be able to watch but Melvin wouldn’t be able to see her. Clayton’s boss, Saul Warner, was already in the interview room, working on some paperwork while he waited for Melvin to arrive. Clayton had offered to do the interview solo, but his boss had nixed that.

Probably a good thing, too.

Hard to be objective with a man he hated, and objectivity was something sorely needed in this investigation.

Thankfully, Clayton had found a few bits of info that Saul might be able to use in the interview. The problem was none of those bits in themselves would lead to Melvin’s arrest. They needed a confession, and barring that, they needed more evidence. Still, this interview was a start.

“Afraid I’ll punch Melvin if I get close enough to him?” Lenora joked.

Clayton appreciated her attempt to keep this light. Appreciated it even more when she idly brushed a kiss on his cheek. But then she froze and pulled back, as if she’d realized what she’d done. This wasn’t a steamy kiss like the one in his office, but it was yet another reminder they were becoming too comfortable with each other.

If their situation had been different, that would be a good thing. But when Clayton looked at her now, all he needed to see and remember was the danger.

He shut the door and turned just as a dark-haired guy in a white shirt and jeans walked in with Melvin. Lt. Ryland, no doubt. Melvin wasn’t cuffed, but the lieutenant had a firm grip on his arm. Ryland looked around the room and spotted Harlan, who took them toward the interview room.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Melvin said, his attention zooming straight to Clayton.

Clayton cursed the knot that tightened his stomach. Cursed even more the cobweb of images this man had left in his mind. He couldn’t remember his night of sex with Lenora, but he could recall in complete detail that Melvin had made his life a living hell.

It’d been years since Clayton had seen him, and those years had not been kind to him. He was still on the beefy side, but his hair was iron-gray now, and he had enough wrinkles that it was well past the stage of calling them character lines. Melvin Larson looked every bit of his fifty-six years and then some.

“He’s all yours,” the lieutenant said.

“Looks as if he cooperated,” Clayton mumbled.

“Yeah,” Ryland verified, and he sounded disappointed, too. Maybe Harlan had told him all about Clayton’s prize of a father. “But I’ll have to wash my car to get rid of the slime of snake oil he left behind. Hope you can take him down a notch or two. Better yet, arrest him for something. Anything.”

Clayton managed a smile, thanked Lt. Ryland and went into the interview room.

“Melvin Larson,” Saul greeted before Melvin had even taken a seat. “I’m Marshal Saul Warner, and you’re about to answer some questions.” Saul didn’t leave any room for doubt about that. It certainly wasn’t an invitation.

“I’d be glad to.” Melvin didn’t just sit. He lounged in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and tucking his hands behind the back of his neck.

Clayton blew out a long breath. He hadn’t forgotten how cocky the man was, but that was a stark reminder. So was his sheer size. When he was a kid, Clayton had been on the receiving end of Melvin’s fists, and even though that size didn’t intimidate him now, he recalled Quentin’s accusation—that Riggs had used Melvin as hired muscle. That was exactly the kind of job Clayton could imagine Melvin taking.

And enjoying.

“Always willing to lend a helping hand to the law,” Melvin