nearby desk and pulled it in front of her. He sat close, his knees almost touching hers. “What did the man look like?”
Nina frowned, trying to fight the fear that leaped back into her throat as she thought about the man she’d seen. “He was dressed all in black, and he had dark hair and evil, glittering eyes.”
“What color eyes?”
“I’m not sure. I think they were dark, but the lighting was bad.”
“Was he young or old?”
“Maybe late twenties or early thirties,” she replied.
“What kind of build? Tall...short...skinny?” Flint’s gaze never left hers. She hadn’t noticed before that his green eyes held a faint touch of gold right in the center, along with a sharp focus that made it appear he was looking not just at her, but rather into her very soul.
She finally broke their gaze, looking down at her trembling hands in her lap. “He was tall and had a muscular build.” A sob welled up, and she swallowed hard against it as she remembered the sight of his arm muscles bulging, his taut neck muscles as he pulled the rope so tight against the woman’s throat.
“Sounds like Bittard. Was it Hank?”
Nina shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know...maybe. It was dark and everything happened so fast. I didn’t get a solid look at him. Plus, I’ve only seen Hank a couple of times and that was before he murdered Donny Gilmore at the gas station. Hank never came into the diner so I only saw him from a distance. That, plus his mug shot.”
The conversation was interrupted by the ring of Flint’s cell phone in his pocket. He grabbed the phone and stood, walking away from where Nina sat as he answered.
Nina tracked him with her eyes, afraid that if she didn’t look at him she’d fall back into the utter terror that had momentarily gripped her and still simmered just beneath the surface.
Flint was on the phone only a minute or two and then he came back to her and sat once again, his face a study in both weariness and a simmering anger.
“It had to have been Bittard. The woman is Jolene Tate, and she is dead.”
Nina gasped, and tears rose to her eyes once again. “Why would he kill her?”
“She was Hank’s off-and-on girlfriend and was at the Dead River Gas Station the night Hank killed Donny. She was a key eyewitness to the murder and intended to testify against Hank.”
He slammed a fist against his thigh. “Dammit, I should have insisted she go into protective custody when Hank escaped, but she wanted nothing to do with it and refused to even talk about it.” He rubbed the center of his forehead, as if attempting to ease a headache. “Did he see you? Did the man you saw strangle Jolene get a good look at you?”
Nina raised a hand to her throat, a new fear searing through her. “I...I don’t know. I mean, I can’t be sure how well he saw me. He was more in the light than I was, but I’m not sure if he recognized me or not. I’m not sure even if he got a good look at me that he would know who I was.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I should have done something more. I should have done something to help her.”
“You did the right thing in getting out of there and coming right here,” Flint said. “We shouldn’t take any chances and assume that he didn’t recognize you. You need to be in protective custody.”
“Protective custody?” She repeated the words mindlessly.
He stood once again and for just a moment his eyes were a haunting deep green that she was sure held deep, dark secrets. “You can stay with me at my place.”
“But surely that isn’t necessary,” she protested.
“Jolene Tate was just murdered, and you’re an eyewitness. I don’t have the manpower right now to keep you covered twenty-four-seven. With two fugitives on the loose, we’re just stretched too thin.”
“I’m not even sure how much of a look he got of me. I was across the street from him, and we didn’t have any real interaction before he looked up. It’s very possible he couldn’t pick me out of a lineup.”
She stood, surprised to find herself still a bit shaky. His offer to stay in his house had stunned her. The idea was both a little bit thrilling and a little bit scary. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but I would appreciate it if you’d drive me home. I have to confess, I feel a little too shook up to drive myself.”
He frowned. “Nina, I still think it would be best if you didn’t go home, if you aren’t alone until I get this creep back into custody.”
“Flint, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to hole up somewhere on the off chance that he actually got a good look at me. It’s a dark night, and I only saw him because of the streetlight, but I wasn’t in the light.” The last place she wanted to be was confined to Flint’s home and living in his space.
She had a business to run, a life to live, and it didn’t include being in his protective custody. Besides, the more she thought about it, the more she was fairly certain that the man probably hadn’t seen her well enough to identify her. The entire incident had only taken mere seconds, although it had felt like an eternity when it was happening.
“Please, if you’ll just take me home, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can have one of the waitresses take me to work in the morning and then somebody can bring me by here tomorrow evening to pick up my car.” She raised her chin in a show of strength. “Besides, with everything that’s going on around here you have more than enough on your plate without worrying about me.”
Flint raked a hand through his hair, as if to show a frustration he didn’t want to verbalize. “It’s my job to worry about you, but if you insist, I’ll drive you home,” he finally relented. “However, if you feel threatened in any way by anything, you have to promise me that you’ll call me immediately, day or night.”
“I promise. In any case I have a security system at my house, so I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” She frowned as she remembered the reason she’d turned down that particular road in the first place. “Could you do me one favor on the way? I was taking Grace and her son, Billy, some food. It’s in my car, and if you could stop by her house and run it into them, I’d really appreciate it.”
He stared at her as if she were an alien creature. “You just witnessed a murder and yet you’re worried about Grace and her son having dinner?”
“Grace is sick. I promised to bring by a meal tonight. No matter what just happened, she and Billy are still expecting supper from me.”
He pulled his car keys from his pocket and grabbed his hat off a nearby desk. “Okay, let’s get moving.”
Within minutes they were in his car, the bag of food on Nina’s lap. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful to me finding Bittard, you call me immediately,” he said as they pulled away from the police station.
She nodded, surprised to find a bit of comfort in the fact that the car smelled of his pleasant cologne. She was also grateful that he took another route to Grace’s house, avoiding the place where the murder had occurred.
When
