She wished her partner was a tad less aggressive.
“Sure. I was there to pick up Bethany for lunch.”
“Okay, go on,” she encouraged.
“The place was nothing but chaos, and there was this dog. It was really suffering, and”—he swallowed roughly—“Isaac asked for my help. He gave me the code to the drug locker to get him pentobarbital. He didn’t want to leave the pet owner, and I couldn’t blame him. She was acting rather hysterically.”
“So you got the pentobarbital for him?” she asked.
“I did, and I locked everything up behind me.”
Amanda found it interesting how Tony added that last tidbit, eliminating any possible defense that someone might have come in after him and taken the pentobarbital.
“Did you help yourself to some extra pentobarbital besides what you got for Mr. Wagner?” Trent asked.
Tony clenched his jaw, leveled his gaze at Trent. “No, I didn’t.”
While Amanda wanted to believe Tony, there was nothing and no one to substantiate his claim. There was, however, the letter staring at her from the table. What if it was a legitimate threat and not something that Tony had concocted? What if Tony truly was in danger? What if everything they had against him was circumstantial?