by L A Dobbs
Mick knelt beside Dupont on the non-bloody side and patted down his pockets.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asked.
Mick kept patting without even looking up at Sam. “Looking for the knife. We need to get that. Now we’ll never know what Thorne knows about us or what Dupont knew about Gracie.”
Knife? Jo’s gaze jerked from Mick to Sam.
Sam glanced at Mick and then locked eyes with Jo. “Umm … twenty years ago my cousin Gracie was raped. Dupont knows something about it.” He glanced at Mick. “I think we should tell Jo all about it. We can trust her.”
Jo’s heart flipped. That whole thing with Thorne wasn’t about her? It had something to do with Sam’s cousin, and now Sam was going to take her into his confidence?
Sam focused on the crime scene as he talked. The medical examiner and Kevin would arrive soon. They’d need to make it look as if they’d been here officially. Which they had … sort of.
“Gracie was a young singer in Boston about twenty years ago. She was raped, but couldn’t give details of her rapists. She shut it out of her memory. When it looked like the guys would get away, Mick and I stepped in.” Sam glanced up at Jo, and she nodded. She had a pretty good idea what that meant. “Anyway, somehow Dupont knew something about it. He wasn’t one of the rapists, but he had some insider knowledge. Unfortunately, Mick got a little overzealous with the knife.”
“And now Thorne has it,” Mick said. “Along with the information on where Thorne’s drop point is and what he knew about Tyler, Dupont was going to tell us what he’d passed on to Thorne so we could do damage control.”
So that’s what Thorne had threatened Sam with in the bar that night. It was never about her. Jo took a breath. It was now or never, Sam had just told her his secret. Now she needed to do the same, or it would always hang between them. But before she could say anything, a siren split the air.
Sam jerked his head toward Mick. “You’d better get out of here. We can’t explain you being here. Take the back road so they don’t meet you going out.”
Mick slipped out, and Sam turned his attention to the crime scene. “Quick. Let’s make sure there isn’t something here we don’t want on record.”
Jo glanced at Dupont’s curled hand. Nothing they could do about that now. She shoved the paper in her pocket as Sam carefully moved the gun to a more suicide-appropriate position.
“What are you doing?” Jo asked.
“Just giving us some options. Maybe we want this to look like a suicide just in case. What if the person who killed Dupont staged this somehow to frame us? We can’t be too careful.”
“Right. How do we explain being here?” Jo asked.
“Tell the truth. Dupont was going to give us a tip about the drugs. It’s easier that way; less chance of screwing up. We’ll keep the rest of it to ourselves until we’re sure about Tyler.” Sam gave Jo a knowing look, and she nodded.
Wouldn’t do to reveal the DNA paper now. For all they knew, Tyler was gathering information on them for Thorne so he could get them fired and put his own people in place.
Jo heard a car pull in and shoved the paper deeper in her pocket. A second later she heard the door squeak open.
“In here,” Sam called.
Kevin appeared in the door first, his face turning white as he took in the scene. “Holy crap! What happened?”
“Found him here like this,” Sam said as two emergency medical technicians bent over the body, then glanced up at Sam and shook their heads — as if he didn’t already know there was no hope.
“So what have you got?” Kevin eyed the scene then glanced up at Sam and Jo. “What were you guys doing here?”
Sam pulled Kevin out of earshot and motioned for Jo to follow. “You know how we suspected that Dupont was tight with Thorne?”
Kevin nodded and glanced back at the body.
“Turns out we were right. But Dupont got in too deep and wanted out. He came to me earlier in the week and said he had information on Thorne’s next drug drop.”
“So Thorne really is the one responsible for the influx of drugs,” Kevin said.
“Yeah. We were supposed to meet here, and he was going to pass on the information. But when we showed up he was dead,” Sam said.
Kevin glanced back at the body. “Suicide? Why would he ask to meet with you and then kill himself here? Does that make sense?”
“Good question,” Sam said. “I think it’s best for now that we keep the fact that Dupont was going to tell us about Thorne’s drug shipment location between the three of us. You never know who Thorne has on the payroll. We’ll say he called us here to expose some sort of corruption.”
Kevin nodded, and they returned to the body.
“I’ll get photos before John comes.” Kevin angled his head to look at the body. “Hey, check out his hand. Looks like he was holding something.”
Jo’s stomach lurched. “Maybe. Perhaps the killer took it?”
“Unless it was a suicide, if it was then …”
Jo pointed to the pigeon droppings piled under the rafters. “Pigeons? We scared a flock of them when we came in.”
Kevin frowned. “Huh. Maybe.”
Kevin left to get the camera from the car, and Jo pulled out her notebook.
“Better make sure we process this one thoroughly,” Sam said. “We want to be sure we know every little detail.”
* * *
Kevin’s mind whirled as he snapped photos of Mayor Dupont’s body. The sting of not being let in on the meeting with Dupont had been salved by the fact that Sam had taken him into his confidence just now. The three of them would share the secret of Dupont’s real reason for being here.
Something didn’t seem right about the body. There was a smudge of blood near the gun, which seemed impossible unless it had been moved. But it couldn’t have been moved by Dupont. A shot to the head like that would have killed instantly. The killer maybe? He glanced up at Sam and Jo. Could one of them have moved it?
He purposely stepped on the smudge, obliterating it before he snapped the photo.
“Hey, Kev, looks like we got a high-profile one here, eh?” John squatted next to the body.
“Yep. Gonna be a big case,” Kevin said.
John frowned at Dupont’s hand. “Did you get a picture of this? What was in it?”
“Yes. Nothing was in it,” Kevin said.
“Huh, looks like he was clutching something when he died. Judging by the coagulation, he’s been dead over an hour.” John squinted and looked closer at the congealing puddle. “What’s that? Take some shots here.”
John pointed at scratch marks in the blood, and Kevin snapped some shots. “Looks like pigeon feet. Jo said they rousted pigeons when they discovered him.” Kevin pointed at the pigeon droppings, and John looked from the piles up into the rafters where several pigeons huddled. One of them cooed softly.
“Yeah, guess so.”
John got busy with his examination while Kevin watched cautiously. Protectiveness for Sam and Jo and whatever it was they were hiding washed over him.
He knew they were hiding something about this crime scene. But it didn’t matter. Sam had pulled him into the team, first by putting him in charge of Dennis’ arrest and now by sharing their reason for the meeting with him. He wanted to make sure John didn’t find anything he shouldn’t.
A knot of worry started to unfurl in his chest. Sam had said that Dupont was going to reveal the location of a drug drop on the river. Clearly someone had not wanted that to happen — unless Dupont actually had killed himself, something Kevin started to doubt more and more.
His contact had seemed eager to learn about any stakeouts. Did he want advance notice so they could avoid being caught?
Kevin knew how tenacious Sam was. He’d probably want to stake out the entire river. Thorne might not know that Dupont hadn’t had the chance to provide Sam any information. Thorne seemed the kind of guy who might set up an ambush.
If Sam brought Ke
vin in on the stakeout, what if his contact was there? What if his contact wanted him to act in some manner, like turn his gun on Sam and Jo? Even though he still had no idea who the contact worked for — Thorne, the FBI, someone else — Kevin couldn’t risk that. Best to tell the contact the plans as he was supposed to and hope that made Thorne change the drop date. But if he did that, they couldn’t catch Thorne, or his associates, in the act. Doubt mingled with remorse in his gut.
Stopping this one shipment wouldn’t put Thorne out of business, so it really wouldn’t be that big a deal if he informed his contact. And if they changed the date, the surveillance would be for nothing, but at least no one would get hurt. And if Sam didn’t plan to stake out the site, then he’d just tell his contact that the plans had changed.
Yep, that’s what he needed to do. It would buy him time. Now that Sam was taking him into his confidence and he was seeing more and more of what Sam and Jo were about, he was becoming more certain that his contact was not in law enforcement.
Sam and Jo were not bad cops, even though he felt they were hiding something about this crime scene from him. His eyes flicked to Dupont’s curled hand. He was sure they had a good reason.
His decision was made. If Sam intended to stake out the river, he’d pass that information along. This would solve two problems. It would keep his contact from getting antsy that he hadn’t provided any solid information lately, and it would keep Sam and Jo — and especially Lucy — safe.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sam, Jo and Kevin had stayed late into the night processing the Dupont crime scene. Even on just three hours of sleep, Sam was in early enough the next morning to talk to the district attorney and the head of the state police, both of whom impressed on him how important this high-profile case was. As if Sam didn’t know.
Dennis had been handed over to the sheriff and jailed. There wasn’t much left for Sam to do in that case. He had a confession and sound evidence. It was all up to the district attorney now. At least that was one thing off his plate.
He leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, eyes closed, thumb and forefinger pinching his nose to ward off the start of a headache when he heard the last voice he wanted to hear demanding to see him. Vice Mayor — Sam supposed now acting mayor — Henley Jamison.
Sam opened his eyes and slapped his feet onto the floor, the chair emitting a high-pitched squeak as it came forward. Any good feelings about not having to deal with Dupont dissipated. Jamison was just as bad. Lucy stood from where she’d been lying in the puddle of sunlight and let out a low growl.
Jamison appeared in the doorway, tall and perfectly groomed in his Armani suit, a scowl on his face. “What are you doing sitting around, Mason? I need you on the case. We need to arrest the mayor’s killer post haste.”
“Is that because you’re acting mayor and you’re afraid he might strike again?”
Jamison’s scowl deepened. “I beg your pardon.”
“I said we’re working it. Takes time to gather evidence, find witnesses and suspects.”
“Well, I want a full report by the end of day. I want to know exactly what’s happening, and I want this wrapped up quickly.”
“Goes without saying.”
“And I don’t want you getting off-track with any other cases. You let me know if something else comes up.”
Sam sighed. “Okay.”
Not for the first time Sam wished the police department didn’t report to the mayor, but this was a small town, and they were municipal employees. Jamison could make their lives miserable, even have him fired, if he didn’t cooperate.
“Good then.” Jamison glanced at Lucy. “And make sure you put that K-9 to good use.” Then he turned and left.
Sam pushed up from his desk. He didn’t need Henley Jamison to tell him that the case needed attention, but he had something else to do. And even though he’d promised to spend all his resources on the Dupont case, this was more important. Jamison didn’t need to know.
In the squad room, Jo sat at her desk, poring over reports, as Kevin printed the photos he’d taken the previous night. Later on that day they’d tack them up on the corkboard and try to make some sense of it.
A twinge of guilt pinched Sam’s gut, and he wondered if he should tell Kevin about the paper he and Jo had found in Dupont’s hand or that he’d moved the gun. Maybe it was better for Kevin if he didn’t know. The information could get him into trouble. This way he could legitimately deny he was involved.
The corkboard could wait. It was Friday, and if the information he’d gotten from Jesse was correct, Thorne would be making his move this weekend. The timing of Dupont wanting to meet the night before seemed to indicate the information was correct. Sam needed to ask Jo and Kevin if they would rotate on a stakeout at the river. He’d studied Google satellite maps, and as far as he could tell, the spot Jackson Pressler had told him about was the most likely location. They’d set up there and see what happened.
As he started toward Jo’s desk, he heard the lobby door open.
“Hey, Sam! I got someone I want you to meet!”
Sam turned to see Harry Woolston with a woman about Sam’s age in tow. She was attractive, but not in a glamorous way, more in an interesting, no-nonsense fashion. Her nose was a little too big and her face a little too round, but her green eyes pulled attention from those small flaws. Her hair, cut shoulder length, was honey blond. She walked with an air of authority despite her faded blue jeans and plain white T-shirt.
“This here’s Marnie Wilson.” Harry shoved her toward Sam. “She’s running for mayor. Unopposed now, I guess.”
Sam shook her hand. It was soft and friendly, and a warm tingle of interest that he hadn’t felt in years unfurled in his gut. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” she smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. Sam tried to remember if he’d even brushed his.
“Anyway, now that Marnie is a shoo-in, I figured I’d bring her by. Gonna be a big improvement. I think you’ll see her values align with yours much better than Dupont.” Harry looked down at the ground and muttered, “God rest his soul.”
“I would like to convey my condolences,” Marnie said. “Such a terrible tragedy. And I hate to win the position like this.”
“Someone could still run for mayor.” Reese had come to stand beside Harry. By the way she was eying Marnie, Sam guessed she didn’t have the same positive impression of the woman that he did.
“Yes, very true,” Harry said. “We’ll see what we see. Anyway, wanted to come by and introduce Marnie and congratulate you on the owl zone killer collar. That case stunk like rotten eggs.”
Sam raised a brow. “Ugh, thanks. It was a team effort.”
“Yeah, well, guess you got your hands full here. I’m on my way to the senior center. Marnie is giving a talk on the new city-funded senior programs she wants to institute. Had a few minutes to kill and figured we’d stop by.”
Sam watched them leave. Marnie Wilson sure didn’t seem like a politician. Didn’t dress like one, didn’t talk like one and sure didn’t smell like one. And that was exactly what they needed. Maybe things were looking up.
“Hey, Jo and Kev, can I see you in my office?”
Kevin and Jo looked up at him. “Sure.”
Sam nodded and walked toward his door.
* * *
Jo watched Marnie and Harry exit before following Sam into his office. Something about Marnie rubbed her the wrong way, and it had nothing to do with the obvious spark between Marnie and Sam. Reese must have noticed it too. It was almost as if there was something “too genuine” about Marnie.
But that wan’t her concern. Okay, maybe it would be if Marnie became mayor, but anyone had to be better than Dupont.
Sam settled behind his desk, and Jo and Kevin pulled up chairs. Jo pulled out her notebook. This case was going to be a doozy.
“I still want to try to get the drop on Thorne,” Sam said.
His words surprised Jo. She figured they�
��d be spending all their manpower on finding Dupont’s killer. “Dupont never gave us any specifics.”
“I know, but Jesse said he’d heard rumblings about something this weekend, and the timing is right. I’ve pinpointed one spot that seems ideal. I figure if you two are up for it, we could rotate a stakeout with two of us on at all times.”
Jo glanced at Kevin. His face showed no emotion. He was only part time and, as far as she knew, had minimal experience. She wondered if it was smart to have him on a stakeout, but they didn’t have much choice. The new hire didn’t start for two weeks.
“I’m in,” Kevin said, earning points with Jo.
“Me too, of course,” Jo said.
“Good. I don’t want to pass up this chance to catch him,” Sam said. “But we need to keep it on the down-low. Henley Jamison wants our full focus on the Dupont case.”
“Oh yeah. I guess he’s acting mayor now,” Kevin said.
“Yep. How many hours can you spare?” Sam asked Kevin.
Kevin shrugged. “As many as you need.”
“Okay. We’ll put down that we’re working the Dupont case. Obviously we’ll still be sorting through things on that as well. Gonna be a lot of OT.”
“No problem,” Kevin and Jo replied.
They spent the next two hours going over the plan for the stakeout. They’d focus on one specific spot that Sam had determined would be the most likely and keep the surveillance to nighttime only. Thorne wasn’t likely to move the drugs in daylight. Jo’s nerves tingled with the excitement of the possibility of catching Thorne as they worked out a rotation. But the excitement was tinged with regret. Sam had confided in her that he hadn’t told Kevin about the knife or Gracie or the DNA results Dupont had clutched in his hand. He’d only taken her into his confidence, and while she should have felt privileged that he’d trusted her with the skeletons in his closet, she actually felt guilty because she hadn’t told Sam about hers.
She’d wanted to tell him about her sister — even started a few times — but it never seemed like the right moment. Maybe it was best if she didn’t tell him. In fact, it might be best to leave the whole thing alone and forget about her investigation. What good could come of it?
