A Killer's Agenda by Anita M. Whiting Page A

Ferron, you do want to find your wife’s killer?”
    Brad asked.
    “Of course, but I also trust the police implicitly and I suggest you do the same.”
    Alex jabbed Brad delicately with her elbow, offering Russell her hand. “Thank you for seeing us.”
    He held it just a little longer than necessary, his blue eyes softening. “You’re welcome, my dear. If you have any further questions, call me. You call me,” he said, scowling at Brad.
    “I’ll do that, sir,” Alex said, reclaiming her hand. “When hell freezes over,” she muttered to Brad as they closed the door behind them.
    Brad raised a brow. “So you’re not impressed by Mr. Smooth
    back there?”
    Her green eyes snapped. “The man’s slime. Educated, suave,
    filthy rich and slime.”
    “Any vibes?”
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    Anita Whiting
    She shook her head reluctantly. “I find it hard to meld minds with someone like him. I couldn’t decipher much other than
    sensing he knows a lot more than he’s telling us. That much I could read. And he didn’t give a damn about his wife. Just her money. He’s having a hot and heavy affair with Miss USA back there and it’s been going on for years.”
    “Ah… the infamous other woman.”
    “Yeah,” she said, viciously pushing the elevator button, “a
    woman at home to keep him in the style he’s accustomed to and the lady at work giving him the sex. Nice set up.”
    “Most men wouldn’t complain.”
    She rounded on him as the elevator doors opened. “Why you…”
    He hushed her with a finger to her lips, pushing her into the empty car. “Just kidding. It’s just hard not to tease you when you get that Irish up.”
    She tried to give him a dirty look and ended up laughing,
    patting her auburn curls. “Guess it’s hard to hide my ancestry, isn’t it?”
    “If the hair didn’t give you away, the temper would.”
    She pushed the button for the bottom floor. “What temper?”
    she asked innocently, raising a brow.
    “The one that goes with those green eyes,” he said brushing a thumb across her cheek.
    “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
    “I’ll bet.” He grinned as he followed her into the lobby. “Where to next?”
    “The police station. I want to read the report and then visit the crime scene.”
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    A Killer's Agenda
    “All right, the police station it is. Got any idea where it’s located?” he asked as he opened the door for her.
    “About two blocks north of here on the right.”
    “I see you did your homework.”
    She shook her head. “Not this time. I’ve been in the city before and what’s even better is I know the chief of police. We’re related, as it happens.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Nope,” she said flippantly, sliding into the car. “Uncle Brian is a sweetie.”

    * * *

    The giant of a man that stood to greet them ten minutes later was the farthest thing from a ‘sweetie’ that Brad could think of.
    About fifty years old, with gray-winged black hair and a no-
    nonsense demeanor and the kind of eyes that could make a grown man cower. Those steel grey eyes softened immediately, however, when he caught sight of the woman standing next to him.
    “Alex!” he said warmly, coming around the desk to lift her up, spinning her around. “How’s my best girl?”
    “I’m fine, Uncle Brian,” she said, kissing his cheek then turning in his arms to introduce Brad.
    The handshake was firm, his gaze scanning him from head to
    toe. “Name is familiar. Have we met?”
    “Not that I’m aware of, sir.”
    “Brad Norton,” he repeated thoughtfully and then his brow
    suddenly cleared. “My daughter had an alarm system installed last
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    Anita Whiting
    year. Lives near Charleston. The company was Norton Securities.
    You that Norton?”
    Brad glanced at Alex, not exactly sure where the conversation was going. “Yes sir, I own a security business in Charleston.”
    The gray eyes warmed a few more degrees. “Nice unit you put
    in. I inspected it