by J. R. Adler
Kimberley nodded and thanked her, even though her stomach heaved at the thought of it.
Barbara walked around her desk, carrying a binder. “By the way, I pulled everything on Tyler Louis. It took me longer than usual. He’s pretty elusive and it’s such a common name.”
“Perfect. Let’s walk and talk. What can you tell me about him?” Kimberley said, walking through the first set of doors.
Barb followed behind, keeping up with her quickened pace.
“He’s twenty-nine. Grew up in Dead Woman Crossing but relocated to Houston, Texas thirteen months ago. He works in the oil industry as a driller on an oil rig. He’s an avid Texas Longhorns fan. Traitor. He’s an Aquarius, which explains a lot. They’re total chameleons, inconsistent and unpredictable—”
“Okay, Barb. I need more facts and less astrology,” Kimberley said as they passed through the second set of doors entering the open floor office area.
Passing by the desks, several deputies gave her second looks, surprised by her disheveled appearance.
“Wooo, someone had a late night,” Deputy Bearfield commented as she walked by.
Kimberley gave him a tight smile.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” Hill asked.
Kimberley ignored the comments and the looks. She was used to that type of banter back in New York. It was typical of fellow officers to give each other shit, but between the throbbing headache and the news she had to share with Sam, she didn’t have the time or energy to tease back. Barbara gave them a disapproving look and they quickly quieted down. Sam wasn’t in his office. Kimberley ducked into hers with Barbara following closely behind.
Barbara nodded and flipped several pages, which Kimberley presumed all had to do with Tyler’s astrological sign or other non-pertinent information. “Let’s see here. Both his parents live over in Weatherford. I have a phone number for them and a cell phone number for Tyler. I couldn’t find an exact address in Texas, but I have the parents’ address.”
Kimberley entered her office, setting her tote bag on the floor beside her desk.
“Perfect. Let’s call Tyler first.” Kimberley handed Barb her cell phone.
She quickly punched in the numbers and handed it back to Kimberley with a smile. Kimberley held the phone to her ear. It went straight to voicemail.
“Tyler Louis, this is Chief Deputy Kimberley King of Custer County. I need you to give me a call back to answer a few questions in relation to an investigation I’m conducting. Thanks.”
“Do you want to try his parents?” Barb asked.
“No, I’ll give him a day before I contact them,” Kimberley said, thinking she had more promising leads to chase down and some damning information she needed to tell Sam. Besides, Hannah’s ex lived over five hundred miles away.
“Well, I’ll let you get…” Barb looked Kimberley up and down, taking in her unkempt appearance, but not judging her “… Settled.”
“Thanks, Barb,” Kimberley said with a small smile.
Barb nodded. “I’ll be back with coffee and a chocolate croissant. You’ll be right as rain then,” she said, closing the door behind her as she left Kimberley’s office.
Kimberley closed the blinds that looked out onto the deputies’ floor and walked to her wardrobe. She looked at herself in the mirror. “Real professional,” she said out loud. Kimberley didn’t want Sam to see her like this. Showing up on her fifth day of work hungover and looking disheveled wasn’t the look she was going for. She immediately retied her ponytail, ensuring her hair was in place. She swiped on some lip balm and massaged the color back into her cheeks. Kimberley kicked off her dirty shoes and unbuttoned her pants and shirt, pulling off her wrinkly clothes.
She grabbed a fresh-pressed outfit hanging from the closet and laid it on her desk.
“Knock, knock,” Sam said, opening the door.
Kimberley tried to cover herself with her hands and arms, twisting her body to the side, but her white underwear and bra were on full display.
Sam didn’t notice right away as he was looking down at an opened folder. But when he looked up, his eyes widened, eyebrows raised, mouth dropped open.
“Oh, God. Sorry,” he stammered, stepping back out of the office and closing the door behind him.
Kimberley brought her hands to her flushed face. “Could this day get any worse?”
Less than ten minutes later, she put her hand on the door handle and took a deep breath. It’s fine, she thought to herself. It’s just like a bikini. It’s not that big of a deal. If anything, he should be the one embarrassed. Who says “Knock, knock” rather than actually knocking? She opened the door and headed straight into Sam’s office, holding her head up high with her shoulders pressed back.
He was seated at his desk, poring over several case files.
“Hey,” Kimberley said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, ignoring the fact that her boss had just seen her in her bra and underwear, in the office no less.
Sam looked up at her. His cheeks slightly red.
“Good morning,” he said. “Sorry about that. Didn’t realize you used your office as a changing room.” The corner of his lip twitched.
“Didn’t realize you didn’t know how to knock,” Kimberley said crossly, taking a seat across from him.
“There you are,” Barbara said.
Kimberley turned back to find Barb standing in the doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a small plate with a chocolate croissant. She walked in the office and set them down on the desk in front of Kimberley.
“Thanks, Barb,” Kimberley said.
“Of course. Hope this helps you feel a little better.” Barb gave a warm smile and left the office.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re not feeling well? You know you can take the day off?”
“I’m fine, and I don’t take days off of work,” Kimberley said, picking up her mug and taking a huge gulp of coffee.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“Just caught one of them pounding headaches,” Kimberley said.
Sam leaned back in his chair. “Hope it’s not contagious.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Kimberley said crisply, setting down her mug. “I think I got a break on the Hannah Brown case.”
Sam instantly leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his desk, all ears. Kimberley bounced her foot, nerves creeping up for what she was about to do to her family, well, her mother’s family.
“Last night, I went over to Emily’s place for a girls’ dinner-type thing,” Kimberley explained. “And I found out some things about Wyatt. Apparently, the farm is in trouble, their marriage is on the rocks, and he’s been spending his evenings at The Trophy Room.”
“Okay,” Sam said carefully.
“On the night of Hannah’s murder, he didn’t come home until after three a.m. because he was drinking at the bar. Ryan said he closed up at two and went to bed after that. The timing and the stories aren’t adding up. Wyatt or Ryan are lying. Maybe they’re both lying, but they don’t have a concrete alibi for when Hannah was killed.” Kimberley rattled off everything she knew.
“That’s not enough to arrest someone.” Sam tilted his head.
“I know. But it’s enough to ask questions.”
“Sam. Chief Deputy King.” Burns stood in the doorway holding a file. Kimberley turned back in her chair.
“Come in, Burns,” Sam said, beckoning with his hand.
He walked into the office to the side of the desk and handed the file over to Sam. He opened it and started flipping through the pages covered in text.
“What am I looking at?”
“Hannah Brown’s phone records.”
Kimberley sat forward in her chair, trying to get a good view of it.
“Give me the highlights,” Sam said.
“Nothing discerning about her text messages. She only ever texted her mom and her co-worker. Either she wasn’t a big texter or she didn’t have a lot of friends. There’s an unsaved n
umber on the phone that she receives and makes calls to several times a week, going back at least a year. That’s as far back as we could pull. The calls occur late at night or in the wee hours of the morning.”
“Who’s the number belong to?” Kimberley asked.
“We’re still trying to determine that. Bear called it himself and it went straight to the standard preset voicemail. We’re in contact with several cell phone providers to determine the owner of the number. But we’re thinking it’s unregistered, a burner phone.”
Sam nodded.
“What about her photo album? Social media?” Kimberley asked.
“Nothing strange about her photos, mostly pics of her daughter. She has the Facebook app on her phone and we checked that. She rarely posted,” Burns explained.
“Anything else?” Sam asked, thumbing through the papers.
“Yeah, she made a phone call at three a.m. on September eighth.”
Kimberley’s eyes went wide. “That’s smack-dab in the middle of the estimated time of death when she was murdered?”
“Why the hell didn’t you start with that?” Sam closed up the folder and tossed it on his desk.
“Who’d she call?” Kimberley asked.
“Wyatt Miller.”
Kimberley looked over at a now wide-eyed Sam. “Is that enough to bring him in for formal questioning?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he said, standing from his seat.
“How long did they talk for?” Kimberley looked to Burns.
“They didn’t. Outgoing call. Less than ten seconds. Looks like he didn’t pick up.”
“Was his number saved in her phone?”
“Yep. Under Wyatt Miller. We verified with the cell provider to make sure it belonged to him. It does.” Burns nodded.
“Why the hell would Hannah call Wyatt?” Kimberley thought out loud.
“I don’t know. But we’re sure as hell going to find out.” Sam grabbed the folder from his desk. “Good work, Burns. Work on finding out who that other unsaved number belongs to.”
“You got it.” He nodded and ducked out, heading back to his desk.
“Let’s go, King,” Sam said, marching out of his office.
Kimberley followed behind. She didn’t relish the prospect of bringing in her stepbrother-in-law, but she knew it had to be done. They had cause to bring in Wyatt. No alibi and the last phone call Hannah made was to Wyatt. It was the right thing to do, regardless of how it would affect the already fragile family relations.
Sam looked at Kimberley as they walked across the parking lot to his Ford Bronco, lips pressed together, like he was mulling it all over, deciding the best course of action. They were more alike than either of them knew. Thinking of one hundred different ways this could go right or wrong.
“This is your family, so I can take care of it, if you want?” Sam offered.
Kimberley looked back at him squarely. “You’re right. This is my family… so I’ll handle it.”
She hopped in the passenger seat and Sam in the driver’s seat. Before starting up the engine, he looked over at her. Her eyes were strained and bloodshot. Her jaw clenched. Her chin slightly raised. Her lips pressed firmly together, defiant. He opened his mouth, but then closed it as if he were about to protest but decided not to.
Kimberley was dead set on doing this, with or without Sam’s permission.
22
Sam glanced over at Kimberley as he put the vehicle in park. She was looking out the passenger-side window, staring at the golden rolling fields surrounding the family farm. Her brows pinched together as she remembered what it was she was here to do.
“You sure you want to do this?” Sam asked.
Kimberley turned her head toward him. “I don’t want to. I have to.”
“We’re going to pick up Ryan too, since, from what you told me Emily said, their alibies are dependent on one another and conflicting. Ryan claims he closed up at two a.m. and went to bed and Emily said Wyatt was at the bar until after three a.m.”
Kimberley nodded.
They sat there for a few more silent moments.
“You know how Jeff, the drunk at the bar, said there were rumors that Hannah was a prostitute?” Kimberley thought out loud.
“Yeah.”
“You think that’s why she called Wyatt? Maybe he was paying her for sex.” Kimberley raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. You notice anything odd about Emily and Wyatt’s relationship?”
“They seemed like a normal married couple. Wyatt’s a bit distant, so I don’t have much of a read on him. I honestly didn’t really see them around each other much,” Kimberley said.
She stepped out of the SUV before she changed her mind. She hoped she wouldn’t have to search the whole farm to find Wyatt, because her legs felt heavy, like she was walking through wet cement. Sam stayed a few feet behind her, letting her take the lead. Kimberley walked around the big white farmhouse toward the outbuildings, where she figured she’d find her step-brother-in-law.
“Fuck,” she said out loud when she spotted Wyatt up ahead near the barn.
He was sitting on a bale of hay beside David, drinking glasses of lemonade. Emily and Nicole stood beside them with Emily holding a pitcher of the freshly squeezed drink. It was a picture-perfect scene, and Kimberley was about to destroy it. Why couldn’t Nicole be in her cottage? Why couldn’t Emily be cleaning that massive farmhouse? She glanced back at Sam.
“I can still take the lead if ya want,” he offered.
She turned her head away, shaking it. This was her responsibility.
David tapped Wyatt on the shoulder, pointing at Kimberley and Sam. They were just thirty yards away. Emily and Nicole turned around and waved. But when they saw the stern look on their faces, they slowly dropped their hands and their smiles.
“Morning,” David called out.
Kimberley and Sam nodded as they closed in, joining in the half circle.
“What’s going on?” Nicole’s eyes widened, bouncing from Kimberley to David and back again.
Kimberley took a wide stance, asserting her authority in this situation.
“Wyatt Miller, we need you to come down to the sheriff’s station for formal questioning in regard to the murder of Hannah Brown.” Kimberley raised her chin slightly.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” David rose from his seat. Anger attached to his voice, while red creeped up his neck like a curtain being drawn. Kimberley noticed his hands clench into stiff fists, so instinctively her hand hovered near her trusty Glock.
Emily’s mouth dropped open.
“Kimberley, what are you doing?” Nicole asked, her voice as tight as a drum.
“My job, Mom.”
Kimberley redirected her attention back to Wyatt. “You can come with us voluntarily or we can come back with an arrest warrant. Your choice.”
Wyatt let out a deep breath and stood from his seat. He drained the rest of his lemonade and handed the empty glass to Emily, who already had tears in her eyes.
“It’ll be fine,” he whispered to her.
Before Wyatt could take a step forward, David’s hand shot up to his shoulder, holding him in place. “Don’t. You don’t have to go with them.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide.” Wyatt pushed past David.
Nicole shook her head sadly at Kimberley as Wyatt walked past her and Sam, heading toward the vehicle.
“I…” Kimberley stopped herself before she apologized. She had nothing to apologize for. She was doing her job. “I’ll be home late. Could you pick up, Jessica?”
Nicole pressed her lips firmly together. After a few moments, she nodded.
“Thanks.” Kimberley turned away.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this! We’re supposed to be friends, stepsisters, you bitch,” Emily yelled out.
Kimberley flinched, pausing for a second. Without looking back, she followed Sam to the car. Emily’s anger had turned to sadness as her cries traveled across the f
ield, stalking Kimberley all the way to the vehicle.
Sam put Wyatt in the back of the SUV.
“Now, let’s go get your friend,” Sam said, closing the car door.
23
“Go ahead and stay in the car.” Sam killed the engine. “I’ll go and fetch the town dipshit.” He strolled into The Trophy Room, acknowledging several patrons outside with a tip of his head.
Kimberley sat in the front, looking out the windshield and glancing back in the rearview mirror at Wyatt. He hadn’t said a word on their drive over. His head was lolled to the side as if he were too tired to hold it up. His eyes were bloodshot. Heavy bags hung below them. Kimberley could see how exhausted and rundown he was. She figured he wouldn’t last long under her line of questioning.
A loud bang startled Kimberley and she almost sprung out of the vehicle, before she realized it was the door to The Trophy Room being kicked open by Sam. He had Ryan by the collar of his shirt. Ryan wasn’t so much fighting as he just couldn’t get his footing. Sam’s impatience had worn thin, and he was clearly taking it out on Ryan.
Sam tossed Ryan in the backseat of the vehicle, slamming the door closed.
“What the fuck? I gotta close up the bar. My old man isn’t here,” Ryan yelled.
Sam got in the driver’s seat. “I’ll give him a call when we get to the station,” he said.
“Shit. My dad’s gonna be pissed.”
Ryan kicked Kimberley’s seat.
“Do it again, and you’ll be riding in the trunk,” Kimberley warned, turning back and narrowing her eyes at him.
Ryan crossed his arms in front of his chest and slumped down into his seat. He looked over at Wyatt. “They got you too, bro. Damn.”
Wyatt didn’t say a word. His eyes frozen forward, as if attached by a pair of strings to an object that no one else could see, and his body still, save for the rising and falling of his chest.
Standing in the hallway outside of the interrogation room, Sam scratched at his chin. “Who should we start with?”
