Royce
The rain had not let up overnight and now pounded down against the pavement so hard that drops bounced back up as he and Briar jogged from the front door of the motel to where his SUV was parked. Royce unlocked it and they climbed inside. Wiping the rain from his face, Royce started the engine and pulled out onto the road.
“So, when Julianna called me, she implied that perhaps Tor’s death was suspicious.”
This was the first Royce had heard of Tor’s death being suspicious, and he wondered if Julianna had said that to get Briar to come to Rexville sooner rather than later.
“Who did she talk to?” he asked.
“Marnie?”
“Oh, right, Marnie Jackson. She’s been the front desk slash 9-1-1 dispatch slash everything person for years. I think she even worked for my father.”
Why would Marnie imply that Tor’s death was suspicious? He was going to have to track down his—whatever Marnie’s title was—and find out what made her think that. And why hadn’t she come to him? Although from the timing of everything, it sounded like Marnie had talked to Julianna before Royce’s reluctant appointment to the position of sheriff.
The wind blew a plastic shopping bag across the road and it stuck against the fence on the other side. Across the currently empty fields, Royce spotted a few crows swirling above the pine and maple trees that grew along the river’s edge.
Royce wondered what Briar was thinking about. Did she regret not coming home before now? ATF, that was badass. Most folks didn’t realize the ATF often investigated international bombings like the ones in Paris a few years back. Royce had the ultimate respect for the agency and had even worked with a few agents overseas.
Flicking on the blinker, Royce took a left off the highway and continued up Old Dodge Road, passing empty pastures and farmland on the right that had once belonged to the Morton family. The last of the Mortons had passed away a few years ago and the estate was still in probate, while the buildings and land around them fell into disrepair. The land to the left of them had long ago been sold and cleared for residential housing that had never happened. They passed by Topher’s house, currently empty because he had left for Denver yesterday morning, the first job for King Security.
Further up the road, where it curved and almost met the river, Royce slowed and pulled off to the side. There was no way his car was going to fit down what was left of the driveway. Leaning forward, Briar peered out the windshield to take in what she could see of the house.
“Jesus Christ, did he not leave the house?”
Royce shook his head. Was he surprised she didn’t know Tor had been somewhat of a recluse? Not really. “We didn’t see him in town much. Generally, Tor was known for having a big-ass shotgun and keeping people off his property. I think maybe somebody shopped for him and brought him groceries, but I’m not positive. I’d have to ask Raine, or maybe someone at the Crown knows.”
Briar was staring at the hedge that obscured their view and what little they could see of the house beyond it. Her expression was both bleak and curious, if that could be a thing. Again, he wondered what she was thinking. It couldn’t have been easy growing up with Tor Nilson as a father. Even around Rexville, he’d been considered eccentric, and that was before Royce had left for the Army. In the year he’d been back, he hadn’t seen Tor more than once or twice. Anything Royce knew about Tor Nilson came from Topher, who’d been somewhat friendly with the older man. Topher was friendly with everyone, but he was also Tor’s closest neighbor and the type of person who would check in on his elderly neighbor. Whether Tor wanted him to or not.
Briar seemed to come to a decision, shifting into investigator mode.
“Alright. Let’s do this. How was he discovered?”
Royce had gone back to the office the night before to search for any file Garrison might have started, but he only found some handwritten notes that barely took up a single page.
“From what little I’ve found in Garrison’s notes, Tor was supposed to deliver something, a piece he’d been working on, and the customer came to pick it up and found him in the kitchen.”
Briar nodded slowly, her expression grim as she looked at Royce and then back toward the twenty-five-foot tall laurel hedge that made it all but impossible to see the house on the other side of it.
“So, this customer just decided to what, climb the hedge?”
Royce shrugged, wishing he could tell Briar more. “I don’t know, supposedly this person found Tor and called 9-1-1. Garrison came out here, took a look, and contacted the coroner from Bridgeton. That was sometime Saturday. Dr. Frank came here and picked him up, and now he’s at the memorial home. Garrison died in his sleep Sunday night or early Monday morning. And that’s what I know. The man was almost seventy and, rumor has it, not in the greatest of health.”
“Why the hell was that man sheriff?” She raised a hand to stop him from answering. “No, don’t answer me. I don’t think I want to know why.” She inhaled deeply and released it before glancing over at him again. Was he insensitive for wanting her focus to stay on him? “I’m going in. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Wait. Royce narrowed his eyes at her. Was Briar… challenging him? Did she think he would let her go in there by herself? He knew she had a weapon tucked into a shoulder holster, and Briar Nilson may be a tough-as-nails ATF agent, but this was about her father, no matter how long it had been since she’d seen or talked to him.
“You’re not going in alone.”