Forget the chief deputy. She’d go to the top.
The woman took off her reading glasses. “Regarding?”
Bree swallowed, lowered her voice so no one but the woman would hear, and watched for a response. “Erin Taggert.”
Recognition lit the woman’s face. She knew Erin’s name. Bree’s belly cramped.
This was not good. Not good at all.
“Your name and agency?” the woman asked. The woman correctly assumed Bree was a cop, which Bree would totally take advantage of.
“Bree Taggert.” She pulled her badge from her pocket. “Philadelphia homicide.”
The woman clearly noticed that Bree’s last name matched Erin’s. Something that felt uncomfortably like pity crossed the woman’s face, but she quickly wiped it away. “Wait here, please, Detective.” She turned and walked down a hallway.
The door behind Bree opened, and a man entered, a German shepherd at his side. The man moved like a cop, but Bree’s attention fixed on the dog. A K-9 team?
Bree’s anxiety grew. She’d been waiting all night for answers but now dreaded getting them. The dog’s presence wasn’t helping. She moved to the end of the counter, as far away from it as she could get. With some distance between them, Bree breathed a little easier. Her attention shifted to the man. In his midthirties, he was six three, a lean two hundred pounds, and broad shouldered. With piercing blue eyes, reddish-brown hair, and a couple days of stubble on his heavy jaw, he reminded her of a Viking. He was also familiar. She knew him from somewhere. She met his eyes, and he recognized her too.
They had definitely met before, but where?
Nerves had short-circuited her brain.
He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the woman returned. “Detective, you can come on back.” She ushered Bree to an open door marked with the word SHERIFF. Bree barely noticed several uniformed deputies working on computers as she passed their desks. “Chief Deputy Harvey is acting sheriff. We don’t have an actual sheriff at the moment.”
Bree hesitated at the threshold. She knew instinctively that once she crossed it, her life would never be the same.
A man around thirty sat behind a huge desk. He rose as she entered, shook her hand, and gestured toward a guest chair. “I’m Chief Deputy Harvey.”
They both sat. His chair was as jumbo-sized as the desk, and he seemed lost in it.
“My name is Bree Taggert.” Bree pulled out her badge again. “Philadelphia homicide.”
“Are you related to Erin Taggert?” He leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair.
“She’s my sister.” Bree pulled her hand into her lap, her fingers curling around her badge until her knuckles turned white. She told him about Erin’s message the previous night and finding the deputies searching the house this morning.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. Your sister was killed last night. I’m sorry for your loss.”
The news fell over Bree like frost. Her body went cold, her brain numb. For a full minute, she just sat there, staring at the chief deputy. His mouth was moving, but she heard no words, as if her head was full of static.
He got up and walked around the corner of the desk to crouch in front of her. “Ms. Taggert?” He raised his voice. “Are you all right?”
Bree startled as her hearing returned in a rush of sounds and sensations. “Yes. I’m sorry. I, um . . .”
She didn’t know what to say or do. Her mind felt like a vacuum.
Erin is dead?
It didn’t seem possible. The deputy left the office for a minute and returned with a bottle of water. After twisting off the cap, he handed her the bottle. She took it but didn’t drink. Her throat was so dry that she was afraid she’d choke.
“Are you sure it’s my sister?” Bree’s voice was barely audible.
“Yes. The medical examiner has positively identified her.” He perched on the corner of his desk.
“Where are the children?”
“With your brother.”
Who hadn’t answered his phone all night. Bree suppressed a flash of anger. She had no right to be upset with Adam. He’d been with the kids when they’d needed him. Bree had been hundreds of miles away. Besides, Adam was distracted on a good day. He’d had his hands full last night.
“What have the children been told?” she asked.
“Last night, I told them their mother had been killed.” His face creased with sadness. “I didn’t give them any details.”
Bree closed her eyes for one full breath as she reeled in her sorrow. When she opened them, her words grated against her vocal cords. “I want to see her.”
“Of course. I’ll find out when the medical examiner will release the body. Do you have a funeral home in mind?”
Bree flinched at the word body. Of course there would be an autopsy. “I want to see her ASAP.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll give you the ME’s number.”
“Thank you.” She shook her head, not in response to his statement, but to clear it. “How did my sister die?”
“She was shot.”
“Where and when?”
“At her husband’s house. Can you tell me why they were separated?”
“He had a drug problem.” Bree absorbed his answers. “Where is Justin?”
“We don’t know.”
What does that mean?
Did Erin’s husband kill her, like their father had killed their mother?
Emotions clawed for a hold. Bree’s compartmentalizing skills were failing her. She latched on to her anger for stability. “Why was she at Justin’s place, and who found her body?”
The chief deputy returned to his chair, putting some distance between them. He leaned his elbows on the desk and considered her for a few seconds. “Her body was found by a friend of Justin’s. We don’t know why she was there.”
The man with the dog she’d seen in the lobby flashed into her head, and she remembered him from the wedding. He’d been Justin’s best man. Matt. Matt Flynn.
The chief deputy said, “Look, Ms. Taggert—”
“Detective Taggert,” Bree reminded him.
“Detective Taggert,” he corrected. “I know you’re upset. But this is not your jurisdiction, and I can’t allow a member of the victim’s family to be part of this investigation.”
“But you can give me the consideration of keeping me informed.” Bree’s words sounded cold, and she clung to the icy feeling in her gut. When it thawed, the pain would break through, and she wanted no part of it.
The chief deputy nodded, but his eyes narrowed. “Here are the facts I can share. Your sister was shot inside the home of her estranged husband, Justin Moore, yesterday evening between seven thirty and eight thirty.”
Bree knew there were other questions she should be asking, but her mind felt sluggish with shock.
“Do you have any other suspects?” she asked.
“We are just beginning our investigation.” The chief deputy shifted forward. “When was the last time you saw your sister?”
“She and the kids came to Philly in August, and we spoke on the phone once or twice a month.” Which now seemed so . . . inadequate.
Grief bubbled in Bree’s throat. She swallowed it.
Not yet.
Keep it together.
But her control felt as weak as a single silk thread.
“What about Erin’s pickup truck?” Her sister had driven a white farm truck, an older model F-150. Bree hadn’t seen it at the house.
“I put a BOLO alert out on the vehicle,” the chief deputy said.
“Do you think he’s driving it?”
“It’s a reasonable theory. It’s her only vehicle. Now it’s missing and so is he.”
Bree thought if Justin had killed Erin and driven off in her truck, he would have dumped it by now. Anyone with two brain cells would assume law enforcement was searching for the vehicle.
“I assure you that we are looking at all of the
evidence,” the chief deputy said. “I will share more information when I am able.” His chair squeaked as he shifted his weight back, signaling that he was finished. “I’m going to have more questions for you. I’ll need your contact information.”
Bree gave him her cell number. She was going to have more questions for him too, once she got her act together.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Bree said. “When will Erin’s house be released?”
“I’ll let you know. Hopefully, the deputies will finish searching it today, but I make no guarantees. I don’t know what they’ll find.”
But Bree already knew he wasn’t a hands-on investigator. If this were her case, she would be searching the victim’s house herself, and not only to find physical evidence. A detective could learn a lot about a person by studying their personal space. She kept her criticism to herself. Ripping apart his investigative procedures would not make him more cooperative.
“The horses will need to be fed and watered this evening,” she pointed out.
“Yes. If we aren’t finished with the house, one of my deputies will take care of it. Same one who saw to them this morning.”
“Thank you.” Bree stood too quickly. The blood drained from her head, making her light-headed. She braced herself with one hand on the arm of the chair for a few seconds.
“You don’t have any idea what kind of trouble your sister was in?” the chief deputy asked.
Bree shook her head. “Erin didn’t get into trouble.”
But as she said the words, she knew they couldn’t possibly be true.
CHAPTER SIX
Matt watched Bree Taggert bolt from the station. Her face was as pale as the ice on the sidewalk, and she was moving like the building was on fire.
Or she was trying to get as far away as possible from the news of her sister’s death.
Empathy swelled in Matt. He knew her history. Bree had lost both her parents in a horrific tragedy. Now her sister had suffered the same fate.
Matt had remembered Bree instantly. She had an interesting face, lean and serious, with hazel eyes that seemed to shift between green and amber according to her mood.
Had she recognized him? She’d moved as far away as possible when he’d walked into the lobby. He thought back to the wedding. At the time, he’d thought the attraction between them had been mutual, but maybe he’d been wrong.
Behind the counter, Marge Lancaster waved a dog biscuit. “Who has a treat for Brody?”
Brody drooled and turned to Matt.
Matt led the dog behind the reception counter. “Go ahead.” Marge was going to give Brody the treat no matter what Matt said. She generally did as she liked. The chief deputy might be acting sheriff, but Marge ran the show.
She held out the biscuit.
“Setzen,” Matt commanded.
Brody sat and took the treat gently from her hand.
“What a pretty boy you are.” Marge stroked his head. The dog’s tail thumped on the floor as if he knew Marge was flattering him.
Matt shook his head. “You spoil him, Marge.”
“Like you don’t.” She arched a penciled-on eyebrow. “Not that it matters. He earned it.”
“Yes, he did.” Matt would be dead if it weren’t for Brody. Still, Matt was diligent about keeping up with the dog’s basic obedience. A ninety-pound canine needed manners.
“Hier.” Matt headed for Todd’s door. Brody fell into step beside him, but he stopped at every desk to say hello. Since his retirement, he’d turned into a freaking ambassador.
Inside the chief deputy’s office, Matt jerked a thumb at the closed door. “That was Erin’s sister, right?”
“Yes.” Todd rubbed a hand down the center of his face. He’d shaved and put on a fresh uniform, but the long night had left shadows under his eyes. “She didn’t know her sister is dead.”
“How did she take the news?” Matt took a seat facing the chief deputy. Brody lay next to his chair, resting his head on Matt’s foot.
Todd frowned. “I don’t think she’s fully processed it yet.”
“I’ll bet she hasn’t.”
“How well do you know her?” Todd asked.
“Not well. We met during Justin and Erin’s wedding.” But both of them had gone to the wedding solo. They’d been seated together. They’d talked. They’d danced.
Todd flattened his palm on a closed folder in the center of his blotter. “She’s a homicide detective with the Philly PD.”
Matt had been an investigator back then too. They’d had a lot in common. If she hadn’t run out of town the day after the wedding, Matt would have called her. But then, considering her reaction to him today, maybe it had been for the best they hadn’t seen each other again.
“She’s going to be a pain in my ass.” Todd tapped on the folder.
“So am I,” Matt said.
Todd sighed. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. You are too close to the case. You have a relationship with the primary suspect. I cannot let you take part in the investigation, but I will keep you as informed as possible.”
“So, Justin is the primary suspect,” Matt said.
Regret creased Todd’s face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s not a huge revelation. The husband is always a suspect, and Justin is missing. Do you have any other suspects?”
“I can’t answer that.”
So, that’s a no.
“Have you considered—”
“Matt,” Todd cut him off. “You’re not a deputy anymore.”
Matt breathed. Frustration and anger rose in his chest. Todd was going into the investigation assuming Justin was guilty, not to find the truth.
Todd sighed. “I’ll tell you what will be in this morning’s press release.” He consulted a paper on his desk. “The bullet that killed Erin Taggert was a 9mm. Justin’s father is missing a Sig Sauer P226 9mm handgun.”
Damn.
Justin had been convicted of a felony. He couldn’t legally possess a weapon. If he’d wanted one, he would have needed to find another way.
“Mr. Moore didn’t know it was missing until we talked to him,” Todd continued. “He kept it in his nightstand. It’s possible Justin stole it from his father. Did he say anything to you about a weapon?”
“No.”
Todd frowned. “Do you know Erin’s family’s history?”
“Yes.”
“The case is already getting media attention. They’re calling it the Déjà vu Murder.”
“Then the press has decided Justin is guilty.”
“I can’t control the media,” Todd said.
“But you could at least say that you have other lines of investigation.”
Todd’s gaze went flat. “I’ll be issuing a press release later this morning. At this point, I don’t have any other theories. The fact is that Justin’s soon-to-be ex-wife was shot in his house, and there are no signs of forced entry.”
“I can’t believe Justin would kill anyone, let alone Erin.”
What if Justin was also dead? What if he’d been kidnapped by Erin’s killer? What if she’d been killed because of something Justin had done, like owed money to a drug dealer? He’d purchased his oxy from someone. Had she walked in on a drug deal?
Matt didn’t express his alternative theories, which all involved Justin still using drugs and would not imply he was innocent.
“You have to admit the cases are eerily similar,” Todd said.
“Erin’s parents died twentysomething years ago,” Matt said. “I highly doubt there’s any connection.”
“No.” Todd looked toward his window. The shade was down, blocking the view and most of the light. “You’re right. The similarities are probably coincidence.”
Matt suppressed his frustration. Todd was going into this investigation with a preconceived theory, which would influence how he viewed the evidence. It happened even to experienced investigators.
Todd bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he lifted his head, he handed over the folder. “Please read your statement. I need to get back to work.”
Matt reviewed and signed the statement Todd had prepared from the previous night’s interview. He put his hands on the arms of the chair, ready to rise.
“You know,” Todd said in a quiet voice, “I was surprised when the sheriff made me chief deputy. The job should have been yours. You had more experience.”
Matt hesitated, surprised at the admission.
Despite his exemplary record, instead of being promoted, Matt had been given a K-9 and put back on patrol. The sheriff had acted as if the reassignment had been an honor. Brody had been Randolph County’s first dog. But Matt knew the job had really been a demotion. The old sheriff hadn’t wanted Matt around. He’d wanted him back in the field.
Back in the line of fire.
Stop!
Matt had no proof the sheriff had been out to get him, and every time his mind went off on the conspiracy theory, he felt like he needed to wear an aluminum foil hat.
He lifted a shoulder. “Considering how things worked out, it doesn’t really matter now.”
“No hard feelings then?”
“No.” Matt’s old grudge was reserved for the dead sheriff. But if Todd fucked up this case, Matt would hold that against him.
“I’ll call when I have more questions for you.”
“Sure.” Matt pushed out of the chair. Brody followed him from the room. Marge was busy helping someone in the lobby, so they didn’t stop to say goodbye. Matt pushed out of the station and walked toward his Suburban. The wind blew ice dust across the parking lot. He spotted Bree Taggert leaning against the door of a Honda Accord. He stopped a few feet away. Her face was still pale, her eyes lost, and she was shivering. She wore jeans and a black hip-length coat but no hat, gloves, or scarf.
“I’d like to talk to you,” she said. Her lips were slightly bluish. Had she been standing out here the entire time he’d been in Todd’s office? He glanced at the building. Two reporters exited the station and headed for news vans parked on the other side of the lot.
“Let’s get out of the cold.” Matt gestured toward his vehicle.
Her gaze kept dropping to Brody. “Can we meet somewhere?”
CROSS HER HEART Page 4
