by Liliana Hart
He stopped in the middle of the squad room and put his hands on his hips. “Listen up,” Jack said. “Martinez, Cole, Lewis, Colburn, Smith, and Walters. I want you all to suit up and work a protective detail. We’ve had some new developments that are life threatening, so you’re on a need-to-know basis right now. I’ll give you a full briefing once we get back to my house. Push anything to do with the poison murders and The Witches’ Brew over to Nash, Riley, Cheek, and Chen.
“Everyone else,” he said. “Nash is in charge of the poison murders. Keep working it. Keep talking to people and collecting products. Everything has to be tested. Knock on doors if you have to and make sure people know what’s going on. Put out PSAs for people to check on elderly neighbors, or anyone who doesn’t show up for work.
“Work with the guys from Stafford, and let’s start getting the people outside dispersed. It’s turned into a street party, and I’m not sure half the people out there know what’s going on. Risky’s Bar was doing a nice business, so make sure people are driving safely and responsibly, and make sure they stay inside the bar if they’re still drinking. I saw Harley Jacobson tossing out six-packs from his lawn chair.
“I want all available units out and visible. Let’s get people off the street and back into their homes, and if someone looks out of place or like they’re up to no good I want you to stop and talk to them. The important thing is to keep the community calm, and keep crime to a minimal. Be friendly and helpful, but don’t tolerate any bullshit.”
Nash came into the squad room looking harried, and he stopped where he was when he realized Jack was talking.
“Let’s go,” Jack said to his officers. And then he looked at Nash and nodded to his office. “Nash, catch me up.”
Jack motioned for me to come too, and I remembered my mother’s ring was still on Jack’s desk. I went over and picked it up, shoving it back into my pocket, before Nash could see.
“Anything new on The Witches’ Brew homicides?” Jack asked.
“Just collecting and compiling data at this point,” Nash said. “I’ve typed up all the statements, and reviewed the autopsy reports. I’ve gone through and cross-referenced people and places, anything to give us a lead. There’s not one person Nina Walsh and Warren Buchanan have in common. At least not that I can find. They don’t shop at the same grocery stores, share any business interests, or use the same bank. The only thing they have in common is that they bought headache medicine from The Witches’ Brew.”
“What does Esmerelda have to say?” Jack asked.
“She remembered both by name, and she said they’re regular customers. She said Warren Buchanan gets chronic headaches, and he swears by her herbal remedy. He keeps it stocked in his private plane, and their various homes around the world. Isobel Buchanan told Esmerelda that Warren hated to be without it, and always made sure she carried some in her purse and had an extra in his travel bag.”
“Sounds obsessive,” I said.
Nash shrugged. “I guess the headaches were pretty bad.”
“What about the financial aspect of it?” Jack asked. “Anything jump out at you there?”
“Nina Walsh’s policy was for a hundred K,” Nash said. “In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that much considering Roy’s third of the moving company is a million dollars. Roy and the daughter are equal beneficiaries, so they’ll each only get fifty thousand. The daughter was pretty upset, and you could tell she felt guilty about the estrangement. She’s got nothing good to say about Roy.”
“Can’t blame her on that one,” I said.
“What about the Buchanan's?” Jack asked.
“Rich, rich, rich,” Nash said. “Isobel is Warren’s third wife, and they’ve been married just over ten years. Their relationship started before the second marriage ended, and wife number two got a nice settlement in the divorce.
“Warren owns Buchanan Gems and Minerals. Basically, all the high-end retailers like DeBeers and Cartier buy their gems from him. He owns diamond, gold, and platinum mines all over the world, and he’s got interests in others.”
Jack whistled. “And who does that go to?”
“Warren has a son from his first marriage. Tate Buchanan. A couple of years older than wife number three. He’s set to take over the company. Everything dealing with the company goes to him. Isobel gets the house, personal jewelry, and whatever is in their shared personal checking account, but that’s about it. From what I understand, Warren kept most of his liquid cash in his business accounts, which now belong to the son. I called and talked to the estate attorney.”
“What about life insurance policies?” Jack asked.
“He’s got a million-dollar policy,” Nash said. “But it doubles if Warren has an accidental death.”
“That’s interesting,” I said. “And a pretty unusual policy.”
“When I talked to the wife again, she said it was because Warren sometimes liked to visit the mines and get his hands dirty,” Nash said. “Those mines can be dangerous, and the insurance was in case something happened to him on one of those trips. Isobel said he took her to a diamond mine in Africa and let her search for a diamond for her engagement ring. That’s how he proposed to her.”
“That house is worth a few million at least, plus two million for the life insurance. Then jewels and a bank account. That’s not too shabby of a haul for her.”
“In theory,” Nash said. “But when you add in the fact that Warren makes around fifty million a year, it’s chump change. They had a prenup, but he’s definitely worth more to her alive than dead.”
“Good work,” Jack said. “I assigned Riley, Cheek, and Chen at your disposal. Just keep me updated on any progress.”
“You got it, boss,” Nash said.
“You’ve got the flash drives?” I asked after Nash had left.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said.
He went to the gun safe behind his desk and used the keypad to open it. There was an assortment of handguns, several high-powered rifles, and a shotgun. He took the shotgun and racked the chamber, ejecting a shell. He caught it before it hit the ground and then he tossed it to me.
“Umm,” I said, holding the shell casing. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Open it,” he said.
Jack ejected a second shell, and kept repeating the process until the shotgun was empty.
I grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and stuck it in the end of the shell, folding back the crimped plastic until I could see inside. I turned it upside down and a flash drive fell out into my hand. Jack brought over the other four shells and I continued to open them.
“Six flash drives total,” he said. “Not five.”
“An inconsistency that makes me very uneasy,” I said. “We’ve got to make sure Doug is protected. He’s just a kid.”
“If any agency gets a whiff that Malachi is alive before we can alert the attorney general and blast this to the public, none of us will make it out of here alive. They’ll drop a bomb on King George County and walk away smiling. There are too many people in too many powerful positions. And we haven’t even scratched the surface to see what else those flash drives hold.”
It was just starting to dawn on me how big this could get. Would get. How did a sheriff and a coroner from small town Virginia end up in what was sure to be a national scandal? We would be lucky to make it out alive. People died for political reasons all the time. Because they knew too much or were a potential problem. It wasn’t uncommon for those problems to be found dead in a freak accident or by suspected suicide. Washington D.C. had been taking care of problems like that for a lot longer than Jack or I had been alive.
“Jaye,” Jack said, stopping me from opening the door to his office.
I stopped to look at him and felt the lump in my throat.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said. “It’s not something I ever intentionally want to do. I love you. I hope you know how much. But maybe this time I did mean to hurt you. I
think…” He stopped to gather his thoughts, and he looked down momentarily. “I think I said that about you sabotaging our happiness because I was starting to resent everything we’ve been through the last year or so. It was just a moment of temporary weakness, and I was feeling sorry for myself. I kept wondering why. And how.
“The things that have happened to us aren’t normal. And I want normal. The things that have happened to us since this started don’t happen to most people in a lifetime. No one would believe it if we wrote it as fiction. Most couples probably wouldn’t make it through with their relationship intact, but we’re stronger because of it.
“I feel the pressure to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe. And I feel your father breathing more and more down my neck with every passing day. All I can say is I’m sorry. I know we’ll get through this. I know that this is just a small slice of our lives together.”
“It feels like a pretty big slice,” I said, trying to smile, but I don’t think I accomplished it.
“Yeah, it does,” he said, dropping his head to rest his forehead against mine. “But we’re doing it together. And twenty years from now we’ll look back and this will be a fun story we can tell our kids. It’ll barely be a blip on our radar.”
“I’m sorry too,” I said. “He’s getting to me. I had a brief moment today with that syringe sticking out of my leg where I wanted to call his bluff.” Jack squeezed my hands tight in his. “I thought, very selfishly I might add, that if he just pressed the plunger it wouldn’t be my problem anymore.”
“I’m glad it was only a brief moment you had the thought,” he said.
“Very brief,” I assured him. “Because my anger took over pretty quickly after that. I might have been sarcastic.”
“Then it makes perfect sense why he gave us the deadline,” he said with a short laugh.
I put my hand on his face and kissed him softly. “I wouldn’t leave you,” I said. “Not if it was in my control. And I won’t let Malachi Graves separate us. He underestimates us because we’re stronger together. He wants our attention splintered. He wants us to fight. He knows the only way he can win is if he separates us.”
Jack nodded. “You’re right. I think it’s time we smoke him out of hiding.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jack told Doug to get into the back of the Suburban and lie down for the ride to the house. He didn’t want to take a chance of any more projectiles coming through the window and injuring the one person who could make sense of the flash drives.
It was a long, silent twenty-minute drive. I felt bad for Doug. Despite the advanced understanding of his brain, he was still just a fifteen-year-old kid.
Martinez and Smith were in the unit in front of us, and Colburn and Lewis were in front of them. That left Walters and Cole in the unit behind us. It felt like my head was on a swivel the entire drive. I looked for every tree limb blowing in the breeze and in every car as it passed us by. Jack reached over and grabbed my hand, but he didn’t speak.
There were still a few hours of daylight left, and the last mile on Heresy Road felt like the longest stretch. We slowed as we reached the turn to our driveway, and Jack put his weapon in his lap, keeping his hand on it in case he had to use it quickly.
We parked in our usual place, and Martinez and Smith got out of their unit and came up to Jack’s window. Jack rolled it down.
“We’ll go in and check it out,” Martinez told Jack, and Jack handed him the keys to the house.
I could tell Martinez had questions. A need-to-know basis wasn’t easy, but everyone Jack had chosen trusted him, and Jack trusted them.
Colburn and Lewis checked the outside perimeter, and Walters and Cole stayed close to us for added protection. Martinez stuck his head out the front door and gave us the all clear, so we quickly gathered our things from the Suburban and headed inside, keeping Doug sheltered between us.
Walters and Cole stayed outside to keep watch, but Colburn and Lewis followed us inside. Jack locked the door and then directed us into his office. He pointed for Doug to get Trinity up and running so we were protected from outside intruders, and stuck his hand up to keep anyone from asking questions. Jack took a remote that was sitting on his desk and closed all the blinds. Then he pointed it at the far wall and several screens came down.
“We’re good to go,” Doug said. “Man, I’m starving.”
“What the hell is going on?” Colburn asked. “This doesn’t feel like a standard stalker situation. It feels like some serious shit is about to go down.”
“That’s why you’re here,” Jack said. “Because I trust you with my life. And with Jaye’s and Doug’s. We’ve got a situation that’s been brewing the past year or so. You all remember what happened with Jaye’s parents?”
Four sets of eyes turned to me, and I fought the urge to squirm. It was second nature after living through the hell and ridicule I’d gone through after their “deaths.” Memories were long in Bloody Mary.
“Sure,” Martinez said. “Don’t worry, Doc. We know you’re a good seed. You’re not guilty just because your parents were.”
“I appreciate that, Martinez,” I said. “Really, you have no idea how much. My father is alive.”
You could’ve heard a pin drop in the room, and Lewis sat down onto the couch as if his legs had given out.
“Wow,” Martinez said. “I wasn’t expecting that one.”
“Believe me,” I said. “Me neither.” I filled them in as quickly as I could and brought them up to speed on why Doug was there and what Malachi had said to me when he’d cornered me outside the funeral home.
“You should have told us sooner,” Colburn said, looking at Jack. “We could’ve been looking for him.”
“I couldn’t take the risk that something might happen to one of you,” Jack said. “Look what he did to Carver.”
“He’s been watching us,” I said. “He’s better than any of us could possibly imagine. He’s slipped in and out of this house and the funeral home while y’all were watching. He’s the one who caused that fire hydrant to explode. And we think there’s a possibility…” I hated to even say it. To admit that the man who’d raised me might have killed two innocent people just to get what he wanted. “A possibility that he might be responsible for the two poisoning murders.”
No one said anything for a few minutes, and then Colburn nodded his head. “Makes sense,” he said. “Throw everything into disorder. Split resources and attention.”
“I still want Nash and the team to work it like a regular homicide, just in case,” Jack said. “But the priority is drawing out Malachi. And that’s what Doug was brought in for. He was able to get through the encryptions of the flash drives.”
“Is this a bad time to tell you that I can feel my blood sugar dropping?” Doug asked.
“It’s not a great time, no,” Jack said. “But I’m sure we’ve got something you haven’t eaten yet in the freezer.”
While we’d been filling everyone in, Doug had been setting Trinity up next to Jack’s laptop, and connecting them so the wall screens were filled with the information that had been downloaded so far. I didn’t even want to know how he’d gotten into Jack’s computer so easily.
“This is the information from the first flash drive,” Doug said, rubbing his stomach when it rumbled.
“Well,” Lewis said. “That’s not good. What’s the plan?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Jack said. “And I think the best thing—the safest thing—we can do is to download all the information, give Malachi wiped versions of the flash drives, and then upload everything to the internet. The only way this is going to be put in the right people’s hands is for it to be public knowledge. The Department of Justice can decide what to do from there.”
“I can do that easy,” Doug said. “And I can make sure the information can’t get buried. I can send it in a personal email to the president even. Sometimes I like to send him emails with my thoughts. They can never figure out wh
ere the emails are coming from. It’s hilarious.”
Colburn shook his head. “Geez, kid.”
“What?” Doug asked. “I’ve got to have a little fun. Besides, I’m telling him important stuff. I’ve alerted him to potential military catastrophes twice. I built this really cool program, so it’s basically like playing a real-life version of Risk.”
Doug and Martinez started talking video games at that point, and Colburn went outside to update Walters and Cole. I followed Jack into the kitchen and helped him hunt for anything that Doug hadn’t already eaten.
“Wheat Thins,” I said, holding up a box from the pantry. “I think we’ve still got some cheese and grapes.”
“That’s good,” Jack said, and then he opened the fridge and dug around until he’d found enough to put on a platter. He also grabbed some steaks and chicken he’d put in the drawer to thaw out.
I raised my brows. “Seems like an odd time to have a cookout.”
“We’re going to have a cook in,” Jack said. “We’re stuck here for the moment, and the kid needs something normal, or as much as we can give him.”
I narrowed my eyes at Jack, and cocked my head to the side. Something was brewing in that brain of his. “We can’t keep him, Jack,” I said, and realized I’d hit the nail right on the head. “He has a mom and a family.”
“He’s not a stray puppy,” Jack said. “Of course we can’t keep him. But he needs people in his life, especially men. And Ben is going to be out of commission for a while, and Michelle has her hands full between Ben and the kids. From what I’ve gathered, his mom works a lot. It’d be good for him to have a place to go.”
“I see your point,” I said, moving across the kitchen to kiss him. “You’re a good man, Jack Lawson.”
“Not according to Ernie Rodgers,” Jack said.
“Ernie Rodgers is a horse’s ass,” I said, and Jack pointed to the jar. I didn’t have any quarters left so I went to my purse and found a dollar. “There, now I’m paid up for three more times.”
