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The railroad’s deputy police chief looked thoroughly annoyed by Riley’s request to re-interview Reese Fisher’s husband. But Riley was in no mood to back down.

Bull Cullen said, “When I asked you FBI guys to come out here, I didn’t expect you to waste my time.”

Feeling her temper escalate, Riley pressed her lips together to prevent snapping back at the man. She heard Bill let out a low grumble beside her.

Before Riley could think of a civil response, Jenn spoke up. The young agent sounded just as condescending and patronizing as Cullen had been toward her back at the crime scene.

“Oh, we won’t interfere with your excellent work, sir. Just give us a car and we’ll go see Mr. Fisher on our own. We’ll get out of your way for a while. You and your team can keep right on doing the really important stuff. You might start by booking a comfortable place for those three men back in the interview room to stay the night.”

Cullen grimaced at Jenn’s obvious contempt for him.

“I’ll do that,” he said, puffing up his considerable physique in an attempt to exert male authority. “And I’ll book a place for the three of you as well. Meanwhile, Chief Powell here will show you to a vehicle.”

Powell’s heavy, bloodhound-like jowls hung in an expression of bewilderment as he watched Cullen stalk away. Riley knew what Powell must be thinking. Surely he was worried that an FBI team and the railroad police were starting to look like a bad mix, and he was going to get caught in the middle of an ugly situation.

Finally Powell shook his head and led Riley and her team outside to a parked vehicle. He gave them the keys and directions to the Fisher home.

As Riley drove, she said, “Jenn, I don’t blame you for not liking Deputy Chief Cullen, but – ”