Royce
Before they could debrief the Feds, a third car pulled into the lot, this one a Bridgeton police cruiser. Royce had called them out of courtesy because the funeral home was on the outskirts of the town, and it was the right thing to do. He’d never met Chief Banner and was surprised when she and a deputy emerged from the car. He hadn’t expected the police chief to respond herself.
“This isn’t how I planned to meet you, Sheriff King,” Chief Banner said grimly as she stuck out her hand.
Royce shook Banner’s hand, saying, “Believe me, it’s not what I planned, either.”
The Bridgeton police chief was in her early forties, and Royce thought he’d heard she’d moved to Bridgeton from the east side of the state, but he wasn’t sure.
“This is my second-in-command, Chief Deputy Ford.” Ford was around the same age as Banner, but where Banner was five foot four and maybe one hundred and thirty pounds, he stood a solid six feet and was a wall of muscle. Based on his posture and haircut, Royce suspected Ford had been in the service.
“What can you tell us?” Banner asked.
Royce made introductions and thought he saw relief when Richardson and Gomez were introduced—the FBI had the resources to investigate a crime of this magnitude, unlike a small-town police force. Or in his case, a one-man Sheriff’s Office.
Royce and Briar filled everyone in on the events of the morning, as well as the day before. Which was a lot of talking, making Royce kind of wish someone had brought snacks and bottled water.
When Royce told them about Tia and her claim that she’d been kept somewhere that sounded like it was out in the woods, Ford and Banner glanced at each other.
“We had a citizen report maybe ten days ago about what they thought might be trespassing,” Ford said. “She thought they were illegal campers, something that we do get a lot out here.”
“Did you send someone to check?” Gomez asked.
Banner shook her head. “Illegal camping is low priority due to our limited force, and no one else reported it. But I think Ford and I will drive out there after we leave here.”
By mutual agreement, they fanned out to scan the parking lot and the stand of trees for signs of the other shooter. The only evidence found was behind a cedar tree outside, where the ground was disturbed by a single boot print, but whether it had been left by Jakes, the shooter, or a random someone, there was no way to know.
“From what Jakes said, we may have a wounded perp out there somewhere,” Briar added.
“Noted. We’ll alert area hospitals.” That was Richardson. The toe of his leather shoe had been tapping impatiently against the pavement as they spoke. “Let’s get inside.”
“Caleb, Bishop, secure the rest of the building,” Royce commanded as they moved toward the back door. The two each gave a thumbs-up and took off down the hallway toward the front of the building.
“Ayren’s in there.” Briar stopped at the door of the office to let Gomez and Richardson go inside before her. Royce waited with Briar in the hall while the Feds examined the small room.
They found nothing except Ayren’s body and a single casing that had rolled into the shadows underneath Ayren’s desk. If they were lucky, they might get a fingerprint, but Royce doubted it.
He didn’t think Jakes had killed the mortician, but he suspected that somehow Ayren had gotten caught between Jakes and the real killer. Maybe he’d surprised them? Ayren’s appointment book lay open to today’s date with Briar’s name jotted down.
Dragging out his phone, Royce called Dr. Frank—again—and after he filled her in, the coroner muttered something that sounded a lot like “This is a first.” She then said she was on her way and added a pithy, “You need to get this sorted out, King. My morgue is filling up. I moved out of the city for the peace and quiet and you’re disturbing it.”
Royce wholeheartedly agreed. He didn’t like what was happening one bit. Except for the part where Briar Nilson had crashed back into his life. That part he didn’t want to change. Actually, he was fine with it all of it, even with his car being shot up, if this was the only way she’d have come back to Rexville.
“We’ll send this in. I imagine our lab is faster than yours,” Richardson said to Dr. Frank as he tucked the bullet casing into an evidence bag. To Royce, he said, “Do you want us to wait until your team gets back before we fill you in on what we know about Christian Jakes?”
Just then, the devastated and teary assistant mortician, who’d been notified of Ayren’s death by Ford, arrived with keys to lock up the building and to answer what questions she could, but it was obvious she had nothing to add to what they already knew. She had seen and heard nothing, hadn’t been to work for several days because of school, and as far as she knew, Ayren hadn’t been acting out of the ordinary.
Royce wondered if she would take over the mortuary with Ayren’s death. He doubted there would be applicants clamoring for the position—but what did he know?
They were crammed, literally, into the deputies’ office in Rexville. It was the only space large enough for all four of them. Bishop and Caleb had headed to the KS offices to do things the sheriff of Rexville probably shouldn’t know about, and Chief Banner and Chief Deputy Ford had departed from the funeral home, promising to check in on the reported illegal camping—which was good because they wouldn’t have fit anyway.
“But I doubt it’s any more than that, and they’re probably long gone,” Ford had said before they drove off.
Once they were all seated, Agent Gomez took charge.
“It seems that Christian Jakes was under duress and had been for some time. As you know, he was put on administrative leave, and in the course of the subsequent investigation, it was discovered that he lived something of a hidden life.”
Gomez focused her gaze on Briar. “Christian Jakes and Hank Seller were married and kept their relationship a secret. Jakes should never have been in charge of the operation you and Seller were involved in. We don’t know for certain, but it seems highly likely that Seller gave up information about the op before he was murdered, maybe even personal information about Jakes. Obviously, we have no way of knowing. But we do know that their niece, Tatiana Cross, is missing.”