Lundquist moved out of her way as she sidestepped closer to the car. “What you’re suggesting is that it was someone he knew. Someone he wouldn’t suspect of malice.”
“And that’s pretty much everyone in this town. The entire county.” Lila thrust her shoulders back as she realized she might be in the right position for the shot. “Shooter stood here.” She stood with her frontside facing the car, her shooting arm just above the side mirror, acting like she was walking away. “The shooter knew how to avoid his vest.”
“Why not in the head?” Lundquist stood next to her. “If you wanted to kill him”—he placed his finger right against her temple—“it would be easy to do it here.”
Lila narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think they wanted to kill him outright.” She pulled Lundquist’s hand down. “Or they didn’t have the stomach for it.”
“If it was someone Meyer knew, he was probably friendly with them. But it doesn’t answer the question of why target him? Do you think it has anything to do with what’s been going on?”
She turned on her heel and paced away from the car. Brent Meyer had a family legacy and a father who despised him. Could his father have been the shooter? Lila shook her head. If Pratt Meyer had it out for his son, he wouldn’t have waited this long. No, this was something different. What was it Meyer had said yesterday in a fit of anger? That they should look real hard at Ma Kauffmann.
“Lundquist, what do you know about the Kauffmann and Meyer feud?”
“Are you thinking a Kauffmann did this? That’s far reaching, Dayne. That feud has never resorted to violence. Not once in all their history.”
“Who says it hasn’t come to that point?”
“What would harming Meyer bring them? He and his father are estranged—there would be no gain. And I can’t see Ma ever putting out that order. She might be a hard woman, but she’d never purposely kill someone.”
“People change, Lundquist. They grow meaner and harder. She might have been pushed to the brink and decided this was how it had to go.”
He shook his head. “Not likely. It’s just not possible. Her dead husband, maybe, but that man wasn’t working with a full load. Ma’s the brains in that family.”
“How did he die?”
“The story goes, he tried to play hardball with some punks that had moved into the area from Chicago. They didn’t like his attitude and shot him.” Lundquist scowled. “Speaking of which, I don’t think Sheehan investigated that too hard. I read up on that in the papers, since it happened before my time in the department. Sheehan claimed the punks had skipped town and he had no details to go any further. Henry Kauffmann’s death is technically still an open case.”
“Is there an actual case file in the department?”
“We can find out.”
As they headed back to the courthouse, Fontaine’s Charger pulled into the parking lot. The deputy himself stepped out, alone.
“Where’s the sheriff?” Lundquist asked.
“Meeting with DCI and PD at the gas station. What are you two doing?”
“Looking at some old case files,” Lundquist said. “Hey, do you remember when Henry Kauffmann died?”
“Yes? What does that have to do with Brent’s shooting?” Fontaine asked.
“Probably more than we think,” Lila said. “Inside, Fontaine, you can help us. After all, you’re family.”
“Only on Ma’s side.”
“All the better.”
*
They found one box with evidence on the Henry Kauffmann death, and together the three of them dug up a few more case files with connections to the Kauffmann family, per the sheriff’s wishes, according to Fontaine. Lila hit on a juicy file with a connection to a Meyer family member, which she added to their growing pile.
“I can’t believe Sheehan left this here for us to find,” she said.
Fontaine dropped a folder into a full box. “When Elizabeth won the election, she didn’t give him a chance to clear out.”
“He was so mad. He was screaming at anyone who’d listen, which wasn’t many. She even barred those deputies who were most loyal to him. They couldn’t even touch his stuff,” Lundquist added.
“Unfortunately, he kept anything that could have incriminated him out of the department. And files were scarce.” Fontaine shoved the box back on the shelf from where it came. “Most of this stuff happened before his time. But those previous sheriffs were as bad as Sheehan.”
And what did that say for the county as a whole if the people kept voting in corrupt sheriffs? Yet they had voted for Elizabeth Benoit. Perhaps the tide was swinging toward better?
“Let’s take these upstairs and see what we have,” Lila said, stacking her two boxes.
They carried their findings up to the department floor and under Georgia’s watchful eye spread out the cases between their three desks.
“Any news from the hospital?” Lila asked.
Georgia shook her head. The old adage, no news was good news, fit perfectly here. But was it? The unknown was hell on the nerves. Lila slid a file onto a stack. She knew all too well that feeling.
How many times had the doctors hovered over her, refusing to divulge what they knew for fear of causing panic? She hated it then, and if the lack of news on Meyer continued, she would hate it again.
“Should we be leaving Fitzgerald out there to man everything alone?” Lundquist asked.
“He’s not,” Georgia said. “The sheriff asked for assistance from the state troopers.”
Lila let a pile of folders slap onto her desktop. She tipped the empty box onto the floor and made room for more files.
“How do you want to do this?” Lundquist asked her. “What should we be looking for specifically?”
“Anything that ties Ma, her husband, or her family to criminal activity. If a Kauffmann name appears in any way, write it down. Is that what the sheriff was wanting, Fontaine?”
“For the most part.”
“Let’s get to work.”
As they combed through the reports, Georgia kept them fueled. At one point, she joined Lila reading through a file, abandoning her forty minutes later to answer the phone.
“I’ll let them know.” Georgia set the handset on the receiver.
News. Had to be about Meyer. Lila’s hands dampened.
“Brent’s out of surgery.” Georgia sank into her chair. “He’s alive but critical. They have him in the ICU.”
“Any more details?” Lila asked. She forcibly pried her fingers out of a fist.
“The sheriff said she’d relay that when she got here.” Georgia massaged her forehead. “In all my years of dispatching, this has never happened.”
Lila turned from the woman. How she wished that had been true for her. She could still hear his voice in her ear as he drove the blade into her body. Hush, my darling. Spreading her fingers wide over her abdomen, Lila gritted her teeth. He had taken much from her—her sanity would not be one more.
Her gaze flicked toward her fellow deputies, and she locked eyes with Lundquist. He glanced down, his forehead wrinkled. Aware of what she was doing, she jerked her hand from her body, and angled her back to him. Picking up another report, she flipped the file open, trying hard to ignore the sensation of his eyes drilling holes into her back.
Lila had a nearly empty page of notes after another half hour of work. Even the file she’d pulled on the Meyer family member was nothing more than a property dispute with another farmer whose cattle were breaking through the fence and destroying crops. Frustrated, she tossed the file into a box.
“Are you having any luck?” she asked her male counterparts.
Fontaine shook his head. Lundquist looked up from a report he was reading and paused. The whoosh of the outside door opening echoed down the hall, followed by the squeak of rubber on polished cement.
They all looked to the doorway as the sheriff entered.
“What is going on?” she demanded.
“We’re doing what you as
ked,” Fontaine said, slapping a file down on his desk. “And it’s getting us nowhere.”
“Not exactly,” Lundquist piped up.
Benoit frowned. “Doing what I asked?”
Lila ignored her boss. “What do you have?”
Lundquist held up the open report in his hands. “I don’t know if it’s strong enough, but it’s on Henry’s death.”
Abandoning her post, Lila joined him. She skimmed the report over his shoulder, until he pointed to the part he thought worth mentioning.
“Pratt Meyer was questioned about Henry’s death?” Lila’s head snapped up. “Why would he be questioned if gang members were the supposed killers?”
“Let me see that.”
Lundquist handed over the report to Benoit. The sheriff read through, her features tightening.
“Because Ma threw Pratt under the bus.” Benoit slapped the file shut. “She was deflecting the investigation away from her and her family. And Sheehan went along with it.”
“What is her beef with Pratt Meyer?” Lila asked.
“There seem to be numerous reasons, but none make sense except to her.” Benoit handed back the file. “I have something for you.” She dug into her coat pocket and withdrew a plastic baggie she held out to Lila. Inside was a mushroomed bullet. “The bullet tore through his bowels. There was a lot of blood loss, but Dr. Thorpe did what he could for now without putting any more stress on Brent.”
Lila took the baggie and stared at the stunted piece of lead. This small, almost insignificant thing had ripped through a man’s body and left him hanging on for his life by a thread.
“If I had to hazard a guess, that looks like the remains of a twenty-two,” Lundquist said.
Crumpling the baggie in her hand, Lila let it fall to her side. “Up close. They wanted to kill him.”
“I want this bastard,” Benoit said in a low voice.
Not as bad as Lila did.
“Sheriff,” Georgia broke in, “the Wagners are here.”
Benoit blinked. “I’ll take them into my office.”
“I want to be there,” Lila said.
Benoit frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Chapter Thirty
“Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, thank you for coming in. I’m sorry I had to ask this of you. Meeting at your home would have been more comfortable.” Elizabeth closed her office door, gesturing at the two chairs. Lila had grabbed the extra from the bullpen.
As the couple sat, offering the typical platitudes of quite all right, and no trouble, Elizabeth took a position sitting on the corner of her desk. Lila had gingerly eased her body onto Bentley’s chair.
“We have Maya’s phone records from the last three months.” Peter Wagner held out the half-inch thick stack. “And I was able to gain access to her app history. She had some we’d forbidden her to have, and we have no idea how she managed to get them on her phone and past all the firewalls we installed.”
Elizabeth took the papers. “Today’s teenagers are resourceful. They know how to do things we only dream of being able to do. Some of those apps can delete the history and we would have to get a warrant to even get access to that information. And if the company complied, it would be months before we got all that information.” Months Elizabeth wasn’t about to risk in solving Maya’s and Regan’s deaths. She skimmed through the top sheet. Call and text history. “Did you see anything in here that indicated contact with Regan?”
“There’s a few odd names and IDs that might be her, but we aren’t certain.” Mary fiddled with her hair. “I haven’t connected with my sister. She could be on one of her binges and there’s no finding her until she’s ready and willing. Then there’s the chance she doesn’t care.”
“As Regan’s next of kin, we can release her to you.”
“I’m afraid that might be the only option we have.”
Elizabeth read through the next page. A new ID popped near the bottom of the page. Flipping to the third, she saw that it continued, and the contact with it grew in frequency. “Do you know if this Bandino45 was in contact with her before you moved from Illinois?”
Peter shook his head. “It’s hard to say. Like we mentioned, the girls used to get prepaid phones and made all their contact that way.”
“How did you keep her from doing that again?” Lila asked.
“Wasn’t much we could do if she did get one,” Peter said. “I haven’t found one in her room if she did have one.”
“Maya could have kept it with her, and her killer took it. The phone you said she did have is still missing,” Elizabeth said.
“Is there any way you can track it by the GPS?” Mary asked.
“The techs with DCI are working on that,” Lila said. She stood and joined Elizabeth next to her desk. “Best we can do is learn her movements before the phone was disabled.”
“There has to be something you can tell from that.” The tone in Peter’s voice was bordering on pleading.
How Elizabeth wished she could tell the couple more, but there just wasn’t much to go on.
“Once the techs are done, we will,” Lila assured them.
Obviously, her investigator knew or suspected something Elizabeth didn’t.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wagner, may I show you a picture?” Lila asked, pulling out her cell phone.
The couple blinked at each other. Elizabeth listed a bit to the right. What was her deputy up to?
“I guess,” Peter said.
Lila opened the image, angling her phone just enough for Elizabeth to see the photo of the mystery man from the cooler. Enlarging the image, Lila turned the phone to the couple.
“Do recognize this man?”
Peter took her phone and stared at the picture. “Yes.” His gaze flicked up to the women. “This is Regan’s boyfriend.” He looked to his wife.
“I think his name was Robbie or Bobby. Something like that.” Mary took the phone from her husband. “He’s dead too, isn’t he?”
“Unfortunately, he is.” Lila took her phone back and closed out the photo gallery. “We learned from school security footage that he picked up Maya on the day she went missing. An eyewitness places him inside the car with Maya.”
Peter cast a look at his wife. “It makes sense he’s here. He followed Regan wherever she went. She had this weird pull on him.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms and leaned back. Betting woman that she was, she bet when the DNA came back on Robbie or Bobby it would match the sample from Regan’s swab. They just needed to learn how he died and his real identity.
A knock on her door put everyone on pause.
“Yes?” Elizabeth called out.
Georgia poked her head in. “There’s a call from the hospital on line one. You need to take this, Sheriff.”
“If you’d follow me,” Lila said and led the Wagners out of the office.
Once the door was closed, Elizabeth circled her desk and picked up the line. “Sheriff Benoit.”
“Sheriff, this Israel. We need you to come down to the hospital.”
“Has something happened with Brent?”
“Not yet. But there’s a problem with the family.”
“I understand. I’m on my way. Thank you, Israel.”
“Just hurry.”
She hung up and exited the office. “Georgia, I’m going back to the hospital.” Her gaze swung to the remaining deputies. “Keep doing what you were doing.”
“Ellie, what’s wrong?” Rafe asked.
“Nothing to worry about.” She headed for the hall. “Georgia, call Joel and have him give you an update on Bentley.”
“Sheriff, do you need me to come?” Lila asked as she met her in the hall entrance.
“No. I’ve got it. You keep tracking down who would have a reason to shoot Brent. And why someone would want to kill three young people who had no connections to this community and a beloved teacher.”
Lila saluted her.
Elizabeth hurried out of the building and to her
SUV. Israel’s meaning was loud and clear. Sophie Meyer may have very well reached her limit with her husband’s animosity.
*
Israel pointed her in the right direction, but the act was unnecessary as the raised voices echoing down the hall were indication enough for Elizabeth. Two security personnel barricading the hall parted when they spotted her coming, allowing her to pass. Their movements caught the attention of a nurse and Dr. Thorpe, who waved her forward.
“For the last time, Sophie, I won’t allow it.”
Elizabeth stepped into the doorway and grimaced.
“You gave up your right to make demands over our son the day you decided he was no longer a Meyer.”
Wearing a long jean skirt and a white blouse under a tooled leather coat, Martha Kauffmann stood in front of the waiting room windows, watching the couple bicker.
Elizabeth sighed. Not the family drama she expected.
“Pratt. Sophie.”
Her bark brought a halt to the verbal lashings. A corner lifted on Ma’s mouth, her eyes sparking.
“Dr. Thorpe, are you allowing visitors?”
“For a short time.”
“Please take Mr. Meyer to see his son.”
Stunned, Pratt gaped at her. Angling her body, she gestured for him to follow the doctor. As he passed, he gave her a stilted nod. Once the two men and the nurse left, Elizabeth dismissed the security guards.
She crossed her arms and sized up the situation. “Ladies, would you mind explaining what this is all about?”
Sophie looked to Ma, then turned her back on Elizabeth. The mouthpiece of the pair stepped forward.
“It appears to be a simple thing, Ellie. Brent is family, and Sophie asked me to come. Since her daughters are out of state and Pratt—well, Pratt being Pratt, it only seemed fitting.”
“Your relation to Sophie is more distant than, say, her relation to Rafe and Joel.” Elizabeth stared into the woman’s back. “Why not ask them to come?”
“The boys are otherwise occupied. I was available.”
“Sophie, I’m asking you the questions, not her.”
The distraught blonde faced Elizabeth but remained closemouthed. For all the spit and vinegar she spewed at her husband, she was reverting back to her submissive ways now?
The Killer in Me Page 22
