by Liliana Hart
“I think you’re probably right,” Nash said, and they disconnected.
Jack immediately made another call to the station, and Betsy Clement answered the phone.
“Who’s on today?” Jack asked her.
“Pretty much everyone after what happened to Lewis and Martinez,” she said. “The sheriff in Stafford said to keep his guys as long as you need them. Colburn’s the LT on duty right now, so he’s got everyone where he wants them to be. He refused to go home and miss his shift after last night. I know he was right there in the thick of things. Colburn’s got a head as hard as a rock.” She paused for a few seconds and then asked, “How are you doing, Sheriff?”
Betsy Clement rarely got personal. It was why she’d been a good secretary for so many years.
“I’ve had better days,” Jack said, the surprise on his face evident. “It’s going to be hard on everyone for a while.
“I remember the last time it happened,” she said sadly. “Sergeant Smith’s father. He was just a little thing at the time. Not even a year old. He’s taking it real hard. He felt like he should’ve been able to do more last night. He and Colburn both. Survivor’s guilt.”
I could feel the weight of the world in Jack’s sigh. “Can you patch me through to Colburn?”
“Sure thing,” she said.
“Oh, and Betsy,” he said. “Take the time off if you need it. It’s hard on all of us. I know you love every person who puts on a uniform.”
“Well,” she said, her sniffle audible. “Never had kids of my own, and I’ve been married to this job. Being here is the best thing for me. I’m patching you through to Colburn,” and then she was gone.
“Lieutenant Colburn,” said a gruff voice into the phone.
“It’s Jack. What the hell are you doing at work?”
“I’m fine,” Colburn said. “I barely have a scratch on me, which isn’t the case with Martinez, Cole and Walters. I need to work. And you need me to work. We’re shorthanded.”
Jack cut his eyes to me, and I mouthed the word, “Stubborn.”
“Who do you have available to serve a warrant?” Jack asked him.
“Take your pick,” Colburn said. “Everyone wants to be here, and things are slow.”
“Send me Smith, Durrant, Riley, and Hops,” Jack said. “Nash sent a copy of the signed warrant to email. Have them print it and bring it with them to Isobel Buchanan’s house.”
They said goodbye, and I held onto the door as Jack took the roundabout that merged onto the highway faster than the speed limit.
“That’s good of you to have him send Smith,” I told Jack. “I didn’t know that about his father. It was before my time.”
“Mine too,” he said. “But my parents were friendly with his, and it was my dad that gave Martha the loan so she could open up the diner after her husband died. Widow’s benefits were a fraction of what they are now, and she had three babies at home. My mother always said she got married to her second husband just because it was so hard being on her own with those three boys. Of course, then she ended up with three more boys and her husband left her soon after. But she’s a tough old bird. She supported all of them.”
The drive to the exclusive gated community was different in the daylight hours. The golf course could be seen from the highway, and the rolling hills and white golf carts looked like they belonged on a postcard. The manmade lakes were impossibly blue, and you could see the enormity of each of the houses that had a view of the course.
Our same friend was at the guard shack, and he automatically opened the gate for us as we pulled up. His scowl was the same as it had been the first time we’d met.
“Don’t announce our visit,” Jack told him, and the guy put down the phone, obviously about to do just that.
We turned near the fountain and the bridge that led to the golf course, and made our way down the winding road. There were several people out in golf carts, and they all stared long and hard as we passed by. They’d probably never seen a Suburban before.
I hadn’t realized on our first visit how much space was between each of the houses, but the Buchanan's mini-White House finally came into view at the end of the street after what seemed like an eternity. There was a white panel van parked in the circular drive in the front, and it had a ladder on the roof. There was a bright blue Bentley convertible parked behind it.
Jack pulled in close behind the Bentley, and we walked to the door. I stood off to the side so she’d see Jack first. But it wasn’t Isobel who opened the door.
A man stared eye to eye with Jack, and I had to admit, even I was taken a little by surprise. There weren’t very many men who were as big as Jack in height and muscle, but this guy ran a close second. Jack was in good shape. Better than good shape. But this guy made Jason Momoa look like a couch potato.
His hair was shoulder length and had that messy, tousled look, and he had it pulled back at the sides and clipped at the back of his head. His eyes were crystalline blue, his face perfectly stubbled, and his lips full and sensual. He was wearing old jeans and a plain white T-shirt and no shoes.
“Come on in,” he said. “You’re a little early, but feel free to look around. Isobel said she’d be down in a minute.”
“We appreciate that,” Jack said, and we followed him inside. “I’m Jack, by the way.”
“Carter Long,” the guy said.
“We’re very sorry to hear about the loss of Isobel’s husband,” Jack said.
I could tell Jack was feeling his way, trying to figure out who Carter was before Isobel came down and ruined it. I figured it was best to just stand back and be an observer. Between the stitches and bruising on my face from the accident and my arm in a sling, I looked like I’d been through the wringer.
“It was just one of those things,” Carter said, not looking like he cared overly much about the loss of Warren Buchanan. “You look really familiar.”
“My face is around quite a bit,” Jack said vaguely.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Carter said. “You guys feel free to do what you need to do. I’m just checking one of the pumps on the tank. I think something is caught in it.”
“The upkeep on them must be a beast,” Jack said. “But they’re stunning. A great statement for the house.”
“It’s not too bad,” he said. “I come twice a week just to make sure everything is working properly. Some days I’ll come more if I’ve got something to add to the tank. Just added the shark last week. He’s doing well.”
The shark made an appearance on the inside curve of the staircase and then quickly disappeared again.
“How do you keep algae and stuff like that from growing?” Jack asked. “It’s such a big space, and there’s so much light. You’d think it’d grow like crazy.”
“Dealing with the algae is easy. You just drop algaecide in the tank and move on. It’s doing the deep cleans on this thing that are a pain. I’ve got to put on full dive gear and it usually takes a solid week.”
Jack whistled appreciatively. “It must make a lot of extra work for you to have to haul all that stuff around for one house. I can’t imagine there are too many tanks like this one.”
Carter shrugged and started up the stairs, but he stopped on the third step up. “You’d be surprised. Exotic fish are one of those rich people things. I do houses all over D.C., but this is my biggest. Since I’m here twice a week I keep my equipment off the kitchen. I’ve got to head upstairs so I can look at the pump. Go ahead and get a good feel of the place. I know Isobel is anxious to get it listed.”
He headed the rest of the way upstairs and disappeared toward the back of the landing.
“You heard the guy,” Jack said, smiling. “Let’s get a good feel of the place. If you can manage to roll your tongue back into your mouth.”
I felt my face flush with heat. “All I’m saying is I think it’s pretty weird for the fish tank guy to look like Aquaman. I also think he’s coming here a lot more than twice a week. Did you see that s
mirk on his face?”
“Oh, you noticed his face, did you?” Jack asked, grinning.
“Shut up.”
We went into the kitchen, and it seemed surreal that we’d been standing there just two nights before.
“I’m guessing Isobel is anxious to get the house on the market,” Jack said. “I’m betting she and fish boy have plans.”
There was a closed door in the back corner of the kitchen, and Jack opened it, revealing a laundry room that had three full-sized washers and dryers, an ironing station, and one of those folding machines. It led to a mudroom, and there was a glass door that led into a garage full of cars on the right, but on the left was an open arch that was almost an extension of the mudroom that had floor-to-ceiling shelves, paddles, and long poles with different attachments.
And right there on the shelf was a large bag of algaecide and a mortar and pestle. I’d stuck latex gloves inside my sling since I didn’t want to carry my bag around, and I handed Jack a pair. He put them on and then picked up the bag and the mortar and pestle and took them back to the kitchen.
I heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and Jack and I both stared at the door as Isobel Buchanan made her entrance. She didn’t look like a woman who’d lost her husband two days before. Her white pants were like liquid against her tanned skin, and her cobalt-blue halter top showed off the benefits of having a home gym. Her white hair was slicked back off her face, showing arresting features that weren’t swollen from crying. She and Aquaman would’ve made some beautiful babies. If they weren’t killers.
“Oh,” she said, coming to a fast stop. “Carter said the real…” She smiled and tried to put her mourning face back on, but it didn’t do a lot of good. “I didn’t realize you were stopping by. The guard usually tells us when we have guests. I would’ve been downstairs to greet you.”
Her eyes glanced down at the bag of algaecide and the mortar and pestle, and I saw the slightest flicker of worry.
“It’s no trouble,” Jack said easily. “We were able to occupy ourselves.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk right now,” she said. “I have some appointments.”
“Realtors?” Jack asked. “Thinking of selling the house?”
“I just can’t…” She put a shaking hand to her heart. “I just can’t live in a house where something so horrible happened. Every time I come into this room I see his body on the floor.”
“I can see where that would be troublesome,” I said.
“Who are you?” she asked, as if she just noticed I was standing there.
Maybe she had just noticed.
“Dr. Graves,” I said. “I’m the coroner for the county. I did the autopsy on your husband.”
She paled a little.
“I thought I might have heard from you about claiming Warren’s and Schwartz’s bodies. I’m sure you want to plan the burial as soon as possible.”
“Yes,” she said. “Actually, his son said that he would take care of all the planning, so I don’t have to. I think it would just be too traumatic to pick out a casket and flowers.”
“Warren’s son,” Jack said. “That would be Tate, right? He’s inherited the company?”
A flash of something glanced across her face and then it was quickly gone. “He’s been Warren’s number two for years now. I don’t want the hassle of running a company I know nothing about.”
“That’s smart,” Jack said. “A lot of people would be greedy, especially since as his wife of ten years, you think you’d be entitled to some amount of cash or assets other than the house. But he just left you what’s in your personal account. And of course, his life insurance policy. Crazy thing about the life insurance policy, though. It’s just a million dollars if Warren dies of natural causes. But if he has an accidental death that rises to five million.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” she said briskly. “I haven’t had time to think of such things.”
“You’ve had time to hire realtors to get the house on the market,” I said. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked what I found during the autopsy. You think you’d want to know exactly how your husband died.”
“I know how he died,” she said. “I’ve been watching the news. They said some terrorist poisoned random people to distract law enforcement. My husband was an innocent victim.”
“That’s true,” I said. “He was. Unfortunately, killers are never quite as smart as they think they are. Take the poison that killed your husband. It was sodium cyanide, by the way. Did you know that chemists can tell exactly what kind of poison was used, even down to the brand and the year it was made? There are such tight regulations on things like that. This particular brand of cyanide is from 2006.
“It’s not easy to purchase bottles of the stuff, but it’s a common tool of the trade for gem miners. Did you know that? Apparently, it doesn’t do damage to the gold or gems, but it separates it from the rock. Incredible, isn’t it?”
She didn’t say anything, but her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Quite a coincidence that the particular brand that killed your husband is used for gems and such, especially with him owning a gem-mining company.”
Isobel shrugged. “So what? I don’t know what that has to do with me. I told you I’ve got appointments, so I really do need to ask you to leave.”
“Sorry about that,” Jack said. “We’re going to have to pass. We’ve actually got a warrant to search the premises. Carter was kind enough to let us in, so we went ahead and got started.” Jack pointed to the algaecide and the mortar and pestle.
“That’s ridiculous,” Isobel said. “I’m calling my attorney. I want you both out of here right now.”
There was a knock at the door, and I could see the police cars out front. “That’d be the cavalry,” I said. “You should probably open the door for them.”
“Carter!” Isobel yelled. Red streaks of fury had appeared on her neck.
“What, babe?” He came running down the stairs, but the knocks at the door were more insistent, and he stopped to open it.
Officers filed in and started spreading throughout the house. Stewart Smith had the printed copies of the warrants and handed them to Isobel, but she didn’t even read them.
“Start in the pool house and the garage,” Jack told him.
“You got it, Sheriff,” Smith said.
Isobel’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish, and Carter was standing back, looking back and forth between Isobel and all the cops.
“I didn’t tell you the funny thing about the poison that was in those capsules,” Jack said. “The chemist found these little green flecks in all of the pills they analyzed. It took them a bit to realize what it was, but it turns out it was algaecide. Whoever ground up all of that cyanide used a tool that had been previously used to grind up algaecide tablets. Specifically, this kind of algaecide. Science is pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
“I want a deal,” Carter said out of the blue. “I’ll tell you everything, but I want a deal.”
“Shut up, Carter!” Isobel yelled.
He ignored her. “It was all her idea,” Carter said. “Every part of it. Warren could be a vindictive ass, and he found out about us, so he moved a bunch of money into his business accounts and changed some of the wording in his will. The attorney just told her about the changes yesterday. She’s basically got this house and a few thousand dollars in cash. He even donated all the cars, so she can’t sell them.”
“I said shut up, Carter,” Isobel said, and she launched herself at Carter, but Hops came out of nowhere and clotheslined her so Isobel went down on her ass. Hops had her rolled over and in handcuffs before anyone could blink. And then she just left her face down on the ground.
Detective Cole was putting cuffs on Carter. “Do I get a deal?” Carter asked. “I don’t want to go to jail.”
“Oh, you’re going to go to jail,” Jack said. “But you won’t go for as long as her. You don’t happen to know w
here the bottle of cyanide is, do you?
“There’s a bunch of it,” Carter said. “There’s the trap door in the garage where Warren kept stuff like that. She used a couple of bottles to fill all those capsules.”
“How many tins were made all together? We found the two from victims’ houses, and then there were two more we found still on the shelf. And then there was a woman who turned in an unopened pack.”
“There were just the five,” he said. “She thought if other people died randomly then no one would look at her for Warren’s murder.”
“Things rarely turn out how we plan,” I said.
Carter laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Isn’t that the truth.”
AN HOUR LATER, we’d confiscated the poison and had Isobel and Carter in lockup. Nash had met us at the front entry of the station, and Jack had handed Isobel and Carter off to him so he could officially make the arrest. Jack and I followed behind as Nash led them through the station and into holding. Cops everywhere broke out into applause.
Jack waited until the applause had quieted and said, “It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.” Everyone got very quiet and stared intently at Jack. “We’ve lost a brother and we’ve got one more in the hospital. But I’ve never been more proud to be a cop than in these last twenty-four hours when things went to hell. You guys stood your ground, you fought, you helped, you worked overtime…you did whatever had to be done, because that’s the job. I’m thankful to be your sheriff. And this community is thankful for you too.”
I saw Betsy dab at her eyes.
“It’s hard to lose a friend,” Jack said. “Stay close to each other. Lean on each other. Stay here and work if you need to work, or go home to your wives and children and enjoy the time with them. It’s time you won’t ever take for granted again. I promise. And if you need me, I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night, call me. We’re a unit, and we’ll heal as a unit. Be safe out there.”
There were enthusiastic cheers and applause, and Jack moved back toward me and took my hand.
