by L A Dobbs
Chapter Sixteen
Wyatt, Kevin, and Bev were back in the squad room by the time Jo and Sam returned to the station. Wyatt had gotten the crime scene photos as Bev had requested, and they’d tacked them on the corkboard.
The photos were about what Sam had expected. A dirty shallow grave covered with leaves. A pale body with a gunshot wound in the head. Sam’s stomach churned. He’d seen worse, but it never ceased to amaze him to see the violence people could inflict on one another.
Lucy trotted over and sat down next to Bev, staring up at the photos as if going over the case along with them.
Bev turned. “Glad you guys are back. We got the crime scene photos, and we’re going over what the investigating detective told me.”
“Anything new?” Sam asked.
“Afraid not.” Bev consulted the notes on her cell phone as she paced around the squad room, spewing information. “Victim was buried in a shallow grave, single gunshot to the head.45-caliber bullet. No gun found. So far, no idea who did it.”
“According to the medical examiner down there, Elliott can’t be the killer,” Kevin said. “Turns out Scott Elliott was killed not long after Dupont, and he had no gunpowder residue on his hands.”
“So maybe that fingerprint on the leaf was Elliott running away from Dupont’s killer?” Jo asked.
“Who knows? Do you think he was just an innocent witness?” Sam asked. “Jesse said he was a cog in Thorne’s drug dealing, so I doubt he was very innocent.”
“True, but it’s a big leap from being a small-time drug dealer to a murderer,” Jo pointed out. “He might have become frightened and bolted.”
Bev pursed her lips. “If so, how do you explain his fingerprint at the crime scene of Officer Richardson’s death? Seems he’d be used to murder after being involved in a cop killing.”
“Elliott might not have been in the car when Richardson was killed. The fingerprint could have been left earlier,” Wyatt said.
Bev turned toward Wyatt. “Good point. But let’s say he was with Dupont’s killer. Why would he have been outside the mill?”
“Making sure they didn’t leave any evidence?” Wyatt suggested.
“Why would they worry about that? They wouldn’t have been near the spot where Kevin found the leaf.” Sam turned to Kevin. “You said you found it behind the mill?”
“Yep. Near the walking path.”
“The killer would have parked in front. That’s where the parking lot is.”
“Might have parked on side roads so the vehicles wouldn’t be seen,” Kevin offered. “The neighbors around there keep a close eye on comings and goings.”
“It’s all a mystery, and that’s what we need to dig into.” Bev looked thoughtful as she continued to pace, her eyes on the floor. “My question is, what is the tie-in with this Elliott guy and Officer Richardson? Do you think Richardson was investigating Elliott?”
“If he was, I didn’t know about it. Seems to me, though, that Elliott is connected with Thorne.” Sam pointed to the photo of the shallow grave. “This looks like Thorne’s work. We already know Elliott was at the mill, and it’s no coincidence he ended up dead hours later.”
“Maybe he freaked out and they were afraid he would get a case of nerves and tell the cops,” Jo said.
“I still have a feeling this whole thing is somehow tied into Tyler Richardson’s murder. And there’s no physical evidence that leads to Thorne.” Bev glanced at Sam. “Not that I don’t think the guy is capable, but you have to bring me more to go on. Meanwhile, don’t let your vendetta against him color the way you see the case.”
Was that what he was doing? Misinterpreting the clues? But that piece of paper in Dupont’s hand, linking Tyler and Thorne, was physical proof. Too bad he couldn’t tell anyone about it. Not to mention the reason for meeting with Dupont in the mill in the first place. “Don’t forget that Dupont was going to give us information that could nail Thorne. Who would have a better motive? That’s the main reason Thorne is number one on my list.”
Bev pressed her lips together, still pacing. “Point taken. I checked ballistics. Richardson, Elliott, and Dupont weren’t killed with the same gun.”
“They never did find the gun that killed Tyler,” Kevin said.
“Yeah, well, criminals have a way of making guns disappear,” Jo said.
“Or rendering them untraceable, like the one that killed Dupont,” Bev added.
“You might be on to something with your idea that Tyler was investigating on his own,” Sam said. “After we went over Tyler’s case with you, we decided to dig a little further into his calls. I might have a viable suspect.”
Bev turned from her pacing, her brows notched up. “Really?”
Sam told Bev, Kevin, and Wyatt how they’d stumbled across Forest Duncan’s name and about their visit to his home. Sam played up the idea that Tyler was investigating Forest in connection with Thorne, maybe even grooming him as an informant as Sam had done with Jesse. It wasn’t so much that he was protecting Tyler, but he couldn’t give away what he knew about Tyler’s connection to Thorne without making himself and Jo look bad.
“That does sound promising,” Bev said. “But now we need to find something to tie him to this case. Did he have any pets?”
“I didn’t see any,” Jo said. “He was afraid of Lucy, though, so I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a dog.”
“You’re thinking about the hair found in the gun?” Sam looked at Bev.
Bev nodded.
“Forest didn’t seem keen on dogs, but maybe the hair isn’t from a dog,” Sam said. “Do you know what species of animal it was from?”
“I can find out.” Bev continued talking as she typed a text on her phone. “So what priors does this Forest Duncan have?”
“Uh, well, none. We just noticed he was mentioned in some of the police calls Tyler went out on.”
Bev looked up from her phone, her brows knitting. “But he was never arrested?”
“Nope.”
Bev’s frown deepened. “If he’s a drug dealer, you’d think he would have been in trouble or arrested.”
“You’d think,” Sam said.
“And Officer Richardson never brought him in, even though he was implicated in these calls. What were they?” Bev’s voice was tinged with skepticism, and that made Sam’s gut tighten. He could tell she was growing suspicious of Tyler. She wouldn’t be a good cop if she weren’t feeling some of the same suspicions he was.
“Mostly minor stuff. Disturbing the peace. One count of lurking. If he was grooming him, he’d have let him off.” Or if he was protecting him.
“Okay, well, this Forest Duncan is definitely a person of interest,” Bev said.
“I’m gonna look into his finances. His house was a dump, but I figure if he’s running drugs for Thorne, he’s gotta have a stash somewhere. Maybe he’s investing it or something.” Sam shrugged. “His bank account might give us something to go on. You know how it is. We have to build the case one clue at a time.”
“And Elliott’s trash wasn’t picked up,” Jo said. “I’m gonna check what day he has pickup. It just might be another thing we can use to prove that Forest Duncan had ties to Scott Elliott.”
“How so?” Wyatt asked.
“Well, if Forest already knew that Scott Elliott was dead, why would he pick up the trash?”
“Huh. Okay, that’s stretching it a little, but everything we can look into counts,” Bev said.
“What about an alibi?” Bev asked.
“He says he was at home, playing video games, when Dupont died.”
The lobby door opened, and they fell silent. Sam figured it was probably one of the locals, wanting a yard sale permit or to pay the water bill. He didn’t want whoever it was to overhear gruesome murder talk. He paused, expecting to hear an elderly woman’s voice waft over the post office boxes. He was surprised by a male voice. His surprise grew at what the voice said.
“Hi. Agent Holden Joyce. FBI. Looking
for Chief Sam Mason.”
Sam’s eyes met Bev’s, and he saw his own question mirrored in hers.
The FBI? This couldn’t possibly be good.
Chapter Seventeen
Holden Joyce’s polished black dress shoes squeaked on the marble floor as he rounded the post office boxes. He was in his midfifties, about Bev’s age, with salt-and-pepper hair. Tall but fit in his blue suit. Sam could tell right away he was the kind of guy who liked his job enough to be an asshole about it.
Holden glanced around, a smirk on his face. “Quaint little place you’ve got here.”
The sarcastic tone in his voice was duly noted.
Lucy must have caught the tone too, because she eyed him skeptically from her spot under the window, her lip curled in a slight snarl. She didn’t even bother to get up to greet him, as if he weren’t worth the effort.
“Can I help you?” Sam asked.
“Holden Joyce. FBI.” The man extended his hand and they suffered through a round of tense introductions.
When he got to Bev, he said, “Nice to see you again, Sheriff Hatch.” But the tone of his voice didn’t sound as though it was nice to see her again.
“So what brings you here, Joyce?” Bev asked. By the tone of her voice, it wasn’t nice to see him again either. Sam guessed Bev had had dealings with this Joyce and they hadn’t been particularly pleasant.
“Murder,” Holden said. “We’ve got a dead officer and a dead mayor tied together by a fingerprint from a dead body.”
Bev folded her arms over her chest. “So, what’s the FBI’s interest?”
Joyce glanced out the window. “Murder across state lines.”
Sam frowned. Holden was lying. The FBI was usually into bigger things. But considering that this all had to do with a drug-dealing ring, Sam shouldn’t be surprised the FBI had come. But shouldn’t it be the Drug Enforcement Agency that descended on them? The way Holden was looking around the squad room made him think there was much more to this.
Sam glanced at Tyler’s old desk, now Wyatt’s desk. Now that the FBI was involved, everything about Tyler would come out. As far as Tyler’s reputation, let the chips fall where they might. Sam was more worried about what else the FBI agent would dig up.
“I’ve never known you to be interested in that,” Bev said.
Joyce simply raised a brow at her. “We’re interested in lots of things. Speaking of which, I need everything you have on the Tyler Richardson case.”
Sam locked eyes with Jo. Things were getting worse fast. Sam had just started building a rapport with Bev, and he hoped she might understand why Sam and Jo would want to protect Tyler if certain things came to light. Sam doubted Holden Joyce would be as understanding.
“I’ve got that case covered,” Bev said.
“Not anymore.”
Bev frowned. “What do you mean? Are you taking over the Dupont case? Is that why you’re interested in Richardson?”
“No.” Holden said. “My interest is in the Scott Elliott murder. But I’m authorized to collect any information that might be pertinent to it. I think that because Scott Elliott’s fingerprint was found at the murder scene of Officer Tyler Richardson and Mayor Dupont, I might need to look over your notes on those two cases.”
Sam could tell that Bev was pissed. She glared at Holden. “I have the Richardson stuff back at the sheriff’s office. Like I said, I’ve been looking into it.”
Holden frowned at Sam. “You don’t have anything here?”
Sam shook his head. “No. I gave it to Sheriff Hatch.”
Holden looked dubious. “Everything? Maybe you’re holding out on Sheriff Hatch.”
Bev quirked a brow at Sam.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked. But had a sinking feeling that he knew what Holden Joyce meant.
“Let’s just say I think you might have messed with the outcome of a case before. You know the one I mean. Your cousin Gracie.”
“That was almost twenty years ago.” Sam said. “I was a rookie then. Protecting my cousin.”
“Yes, but there’re a lot of unanswered questions about what happened to the suspects in that case,” Joyce said.
Sam guessed Holden Joyce was old enough to have been in the FBI when his cousin’s case came to trial. But the FBI hadn’t been involved, so what did Holden know about it? Maybe he was bluffing.
“Wait a minute. What does this have to do with the case we’re investigating now?” Bev cut in.
“I’m simply pointing out that Chief Mason’s methods of investigation might be a little, shall we say, unorthodox.”
Bev held up her hands. “Well, now hold on a minute. I’m investigating too. And as far as I can see, Chief Mason hasn’t done anything ... unorthodox. In fact, we’re narrowing in on a suspect right now.”
Holden cocked a skeptical brow. “Oh? Who? Tell me more about it.”
“Well, because you already seem to know everything, you must be aware that Chief Mason was meeting with Mayor Dupont the night of his death because Dupont claimed to have information linking Lucas Thorne to the influx of drugs flooding the county,” Bev said.
“So he says,” Holden said.
Bev ignored him and continued. “Sam’s been building up contacts in the area. One of them told him that drugs are being distributed by a municipal employee. Someone who wouldn’t be questioned if they were going to various houses to make drops.”
“You mean like a cop?” Holden asked Bev the question, but his eyes remained trained on Sam.
Bev’s eyes flicked from Holden to Sam. “Or a garbageman.”
“Is that your suspect? A garbageman?”
“Forest Duncan. We have him tied to the case through arrest reports from Tyler Richardson,” Sam said.
“So this Forest Duncan, does he drive a black SUV with a roof rack? Because one of your locals saw a truck like that leave the scene, I’m told,” Holden said.
How did he know that? Clearly, Holden Joyce already knew more about the case than he let on.
“Well, no. He had a red Pinto in his driveway,” Sam said. “But we don’t know what other vehicles he has. Maybe he has a black SUV stored away. His house didn’t reflect the kind of money that would be coming in for a drug dealer, so we think he’s hiding funds somewhere.”
Hopefully, that would satisfy Holden Joyce as far as the black truck went.
“So then the only person tied to this case who drives a black SUV with a roof rack is your friend Mick Gervasi.”
It felt like a punch in the gut. Crap. How much did this Holden know about him anyway? It was almost as if he were here to nail Sam, using the case as an excuse. Thorne had probably planted people in law enforcement. If Holden Joyce was here on Thorne’s request, trying to frame Sam, this didn’t bode well.
“Oh, you didn’t think we knew about Mr. Gervasi, huh?” Holden looked smug. “In fact, we know a lot. Especially in connection with what happened during the trial for your cousin.”
“I don’t see how that’s pertinent to the current case,” Sam said.
“It is when it indicates how you might handle things that aren’t going your way.”
Kevin piped in. “Gervasi isn’t the only one that drives a black SUV with a roof rack. I’ve been researching, and I’ve narrowed it down, but there’re more than one thousand SUVs in the area with roof racks. And it could be someone who isn’t even from the area.”
Was Kevin stalling for time, protecting Mick? Sam’s estimation of the officer rose a few notches.
“I’m getting a little confused here,” Bev said. “Are you accusing Chief Mason of something?”
Holden looked contrite. “No, of course not. I’m simply stating the facts.”
Holden held Sam’s gaze for a few tense seconds before turning to Bev. “If you’re almost done here, I’ll follow you to your office and pick up what you have on the Richardson case.”
Bev scowled. Sam could tell she didn’t really want Holden Joyce following her to her office, but what ch
oice did she have?
“Fine. We’re done here.” They walked off, Bev giving Sam a glance on her way out.
Sam could tell that Bev didn’t like Holden Joyce. At least that was one saving grace. Bev would be on his side. But he also knew he’d better prove who the killer was fast, because Bev wouldn’t remain on his side if she discovered he’d been lying.
By the time Kevin clocked out of work that day, he had a major tension headache. The visit from the FBI agent had been disturbing, especially the allegations he’d tossed around about Sam. Kevin was under no illusion that Sam was some angel, but what had he done in the past? Judging by the FBI agent’s threat, he knew it had been something bad.
It didn’t matter what Sam had done in the past. Kevin knew he was the kind of guy who did the right thing now. And besides, Sam had said something about protecting his cousin. Protecting family was the right thing to do. That FBI guy was working some angle, and Kevin wasn’t going to stand by and let him railroad Sam.
That was why he’d spoken up about the black SUVs. He figured it probably was Mick’s truck that Rita had seen, but he wanted to do his part and throw the FBI guy off track. He’d been nervous that Wyatt would throw his two cents in, but he’d kept his mouth shut. Kevin might have to reevaluate his impression of the guy. At least Wyatt had his loyalties in the right place and sided with his own team instead of blabbing to the FBI.
It almost seemed as though the FBI guy was trying to pin the murder on Sam. Had Sam really done something questionable twenty years ago? Did Sam really kill Dupont? But if he had, why would Kevin’s contact be trying to get him to lead the investigation to the glove planted on Sam’s property? Seemed like they could come up with easier evidence if Sam was the killer.
Kevin’s gut churned. When they’d gotten word about Scott Elliott, he’d half hoped Elliott was his contact. But even if he was, Kevin knew the notes wouldn’t stop. A new person would take his place. The photo of the guy in the shallow grave cinched it—Elliott wasn’t any of the guys that Kevin had met before.
