Bloody Ties (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 8)

by Karen Ann Hopkins

  I held in a smile. These kids were clueless, which was a good thing.

  “All right then. I have to discuss this with Serenity.” Matthew groaned, but Sarah remained silent. “I’ve been in your shoes, and it isn’t fun. Being Amish isn’t for everyone. Whether either of you decide to stay or go, it won’t be an easy decision. It’s your own personal choice. Sarah, honey, you can’t force Matthew to leave his entire way of life and family behind. Not only is it not fair to expect that, but if he doesn’t leave willingly, it will never work out between the two of you.” I swiveled back to Matthew, who seemed to be waiting his turn. “It’s important that you respect Sarah’s feelings about leaving. Even if you don’t have those urges, it’s commonplace for some of us to want to go English. Try to be open minded and listen to Sarah. Even if you two don’t continue courting, you can still be friends.”

  “I don’t want to stop courting,” Matthew said lamely.

  “Me neither,” Sarah agreed.

  I rolled my eyes. “Then it’s settled. Stay courting, and keep the lines of communication open. Two years is a long time. I’m sure you’ll find the right paths by then.”

  A glance between the two of them found them both grinning. The happy moment would probably not last long. Two years was enough time for them to break up and go their separate ways. I hoped it wasn’t true—I thought Matthew’s laid-back personality was a great match for Sarah’s high-strung nature.

  But I’d seen the glint of wildness in my niece’s eye, and I recognized it for what it was. My eyes had shined the same way before I’d left the Amish.

  11

  Serenity

  I was happy to see Ryan and Jerome seated side by side at the conference table. They weren’t particularly paying attention to each other, but at least they weren’t bickering over procedural practices. Their open laptops, notebooks, and file folders said it all. They’d finally pushed aside their differences to work on a case together.

  Todd leaned over my shoulder. “Someone must know the guy.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “I’m sure a lot of people do. It’s almost impossible to track undocumented people. And without knowing who he is or where he came from, it’s going to be more difficult to pin his murder on the Ogdens or anyone else.”

  “Your interaction with Ethan Ogden was strange,” Jerome commented, not looking up from the computer screen.

  “Not really. It’s like that in small towns. Citizens become too neighborly with law officers, and they have access to community leaders. Instead of working their issues out at the ballot box, it’s easier to go straight to the source and try to manipulate me.”

  “Why would he give himself away like that? We might never have honed in on him during the investigation.” Jerome glanced up with a perplexed expression on his face.

  Ryan leaned over. “A mistake must have been made. Ogden knew that information would drop that would break the case wide open. He’s trying to get a jump on the narrative. Simple damage control.”

  “Maybe we should just head on home and wait for the evidence to fall into our laps,” Jerome said with a snicker.

  I decided to intervene before their discussion devolved into a fight. “Ryan’s right. Ogden’s worried that we’re going to have the goods on him or someone close to him in short order. That’s the only reason he’d leave his wilderness home to threaten me.” Changing the subject, I met Jerome’s steady gaze. “What do you have on the Moretti’s so far?”

  Jerome flipped through the pages of his notebook. “Marco Moretti runs the family business now. He’s fairly young for a boss at forty-six. His two daughters are high schoolers, and his only son, Alessandro, is studying at the University of Illinois. Divorced from his wife, he’s dating a thirty-year-old attorney by the name of Kristen Scott. Seems that none of the immediate family members are actively a part of the business. His nephew, Dante Morretti, is another story. He’s twenty-eight and runs two of Marco’s night clubs and a casino.”

  “What other businesses does Marco have?” I asked.

  “Two gentleman clubs in Louisville, restaurants in Indianapolis and Cincinnati, a riverboat casino in Indiana, a hotel near the Indy speedway, a couple of second-hand clothing stores in the suburbs. This list goes on and on.” Jerome concluded by pushing his notebook aside and settling back in his chair.

  “Used clothing?” I muttered.

  “For money laundering.” Todd’s smile was on the arrogant side. “Legitimate businesses give the Moretti’s a place to funnel their illegal profits through.”

  Jerome nodded agreement.

  My gaze passed over Todd and Jerome, settling on Ryan. “Okay, where do we go from here? We don’t know why Zeke Bachman returned to Blood Rock. Maybe he really does want to reconnect with his roots.” Ryan made a scoffing noise that I ignored. “Now that we have a different direction to go with our MS-13 guy, I think it’s fairly safe to assume that a crime family isn’t infiltrating our little town.”

  “That would be a relief,” Todd said.

  Daniel peeked into the conference room. “What would be a relief?”

  I couldn’t help smiling when he came in with fresh coffee and a fast food bag. I was willing to bet there was a burger and fries inside it.

  Daniel nodded to the other men, deposited the coffee and food in front of me, and then leaned over to kiss me on the forehead. He took the vacant seat to my right.

  “Looks like we don’t have the mafia in Blood Rock,” Todd answered his question.

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Daniel said. It made me wonder what he’d been up to since we’d parted ways that morning. “Do you have a suspect?”

  “A vague one, but it’s a start,” I said. “We think it’s a local job, relating to a drug deal gone wrong. I hate to think our drug problems have risen to murder, but it certainly looks that way.”

  “Since we’re talking about drugs—” Daniel pulled a plastic baggie from his jacket pocket and handed it to me.

  Jerome leaned forward for a better look, but Ryan and Todd didn’t even shift in their seats. After a quick study, I glanced up at Daniel. “Where did you get this?”

  His face scrunched and I knew he didn’t want to say, but he forced the words out. “My niece, Sarah. It was hidden in her room and my sister found it.”

  I couldn’t keep the shock off my face. “It’s heroin, Daniel.”

  “I know,” he admitted, sighing. “It was given to her by young man who works on a local landscaping crew.”

  I leaned forward. “Do you have a name?”

  “Yeah, Ogden. Darryl Ogden.”

  Ryan whistled. “Bingo.”

  “Shit,” I mumbled under my breath. I motioned for Todd to take the baggie. “Enter this into evidence. We’ll have to get it tested. Maybe we can track where it originated.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Todd left the room.

  “So now we know why Ethan Ogden paid you a visit—” Jerome commented.

  “Wait, Ethan was here?” Daniel interrupted.

  My mind drifted back to the man’s cryptic warning about Daniel’s past. A lump formed in the pit of my stomach when I looked at my husband. “You know him?”

  Daniel swallowed, but didn’t alter his gaze. “We crossed paths in my younger days,” he said simply.

  I didn’t have to look around to know that Ryan and Jerome were hanging on our conversation with baited breath. Dammit, Daniel. What the hell did you do?

  “Ethan Ogden is not a nice guy. We know he’s been involved in drug and weapon sales. It’s rumored he killed a couple of men. The bodies were never found.” I barely kept my voice level. Rain streaked the window behind Daniel’s head, and I focused on the pathways the water drops took.

  “Yes, and all that is probably true—including his involvement in murder. I don’t see why any of that is too important to what’
s going on right now. Darryl Ogden must be related to Ethan, and the kid is giving my niece heroin. What are you going to do about it?”

  My gaze landed sharply on Daniel. “Actually, it matters a lot. We believe the Ogdens shot our MS-13 guy. Basically, Ethan threatened me to let the investigation go or he was going to out you on some prior bad behavior.” The words hung heavily in the air. I didn’t care that Ryan and Jerome were sitting right there. This wasn’t something I could keep quiet. The more of us brainstorming a plan together, the better.

  Daniel’s hand went straight to his face. His pressed his forehead and groaned. “I guess it’s true that everything comes back around in time.” His chuckle sounded bitter. “I don’t care what he says, Serenity. I was twenty years old and not in a good state of mind. I did drugs for a while that Ethan provided. There was one time that I went with his brother to collect money from a man living in another county. The visit quickly deteriorated into a fist fight, and the other man was beaten badly. But I didn’t lay a hand on him, and afterwards, I was sick about it. I can say that it was one of the factors that set me back on the right path.”

  I lowered my voice. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  He shrugged, taking a long breath. “I’m not proud of that time period of my life. I don’t like talking about it.”

  Ryan stood up and maneuvered around the table until he was next to Daniel. He slapped Daniel on the back. “We all have our skeletons. Don’t sweat it.” He glanced over Daniel’s head and gave me a look that could only be described as Hey, don’t be too hard on him.

  I was suddenly tired. It was past nine o’clock, and we’d been at it all day. No one was in jeopardy that I knew of. The case could wait until the morning. Closing my laptop, I said, “Let’s go home, boys. It’s going to be an early morning.”

  Jerome began packing up when Officer Jeremy Dickens burst into the room. “Sheriff, there’s been another shooting. This time the body was discovered behind the Quick Mart.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me…

  “That’s close to our apartment building,” Daniel said, standing up.

  Yeah, it was. Daniel had purchased and renovated the old building as an investment. Currently, Ryan lived there. He occupied the place that CJ had vacated when she’d moved back to the countryside. I grabbed the coffee, knowing I’d need it to get through the night.

  12

  Serenity

  This man had also been shot in the back of the head, but other than the same wound, the MO was very different than the MS-13 member killing. Our new VIC was bald and probably in his fifties. He was dressed nicely, in suit pants and shirt. The shoes he wore looked expensive. There weren’t any visible tattoos on the guy. Again, we couldn’t get a good visual on what his face had once looked like, but we didn’t need to. His wallet was on him, including his Illinois driver’s license.

  “Does the name Tony Regio ring any bells for anyone?” I spoke to the little group that clustered around me, but my gaze settled on Ryan. If anyone recognized the name, it would be him.

  Everyone, including Ryan, shook their heads. Another flash from Bobby’s camera made me blink. Jeremy and Todd were both wide eyed. Daniel looked stricken. He’d probably never seen brain matter before.

  When Bobby straightened up, he tucked the camera under his arm and sidled up next to me. “The Conti family runs Chicago, and they have ties to the Moretti’s from Indianapolis.”

  “How do you know so much about the mafia?” Ryan asked. His brow furrowed and his voice pitch rose.

  “Organized crime has always fascinated me—especially in smaller venues. Everyone’s heard of Al Capone, Lucky Luciano or John Gotti, and they were impressive mob bosses, but what about all the other lesser known bosses that kept business running in the smaller cities, exacting revenge and murder at the same time they made millions? In many instances, they’re even more fascinating than the famous dons.”

  “You almost sound like a fangirl,” I commented.

  Bobby shrugged. “We all have our hobbies.” He smiled a little, but the wittiness I was sure he was trying to exude failed to come through the curved mustache. “The point is, Indianapolis had a robust mob presence up until just a decade ago when the old members died off and other groups began taking over their turf.” He wagged his finger in the air. “That doesn’t mean they’ve disappeared—just been streamlined over time.”

  Jerome had edged closer, hanging on Bobby’s every word. The tent we’d set up over the body kept the rain off our heads, but it didn’t stop the wet, cold breeze from penetrating my clothes. I shivered, but like Jerome, I couldn’t take my eyes off Bobby.

  “What are your thoughts on why Tony Regio is laying here with his brains blown out?” I held my breath. A dozen scenarios had already zipped through my mind.

  “This murder is not connected to the young man we booked yesterday,” he said with strong confidence.

  Ryan leaned in quickly. “How can you say that? They were killed the same way, they’re both out-of-towners, and they were each found face down behind local businesses.” He crossed his arms over his puffed-out chest. “I’d bet their deaths are drug related”—he turned my way—“and Ogden or his one of his redneck family members whacked both of them.”

  I held up my hand to Ryan. “You’re on point, but let Bobby speak.”

  Ryan stuck his hands in his pockets and dropped his head.

  Bobby pushed his spectacles higher on his nose while trying to balance his notebook and camera. “I don’t disagree that each killing might be drug related, but just eyeing the forensics, I can say with some surety that the gang member was shot at a long distance—maybe one hundred yards—by a rifle, more than likely an AR-15. I should have the definitive forensics back by mid-next week.” He gestured at the newest dead guy. “This gentleman was shot at much closer range, I’m guessing twenty feet or so, by a handgun. Perhaps a 40 Caliber handgun.”

  Daniel pressed in closer. “Excuse me, but how can you tell by looking—” He drew in a deep breath and pointed at the victim. “At that?”

  “By the wound. The AR is a more powerful weapon and makes a bigger exit hole. Handgun wounds tend to be cleaner, less messy,” I said. Daniel swallowed down an obvious lump in his throat, and I continued. “Since we didn’t find a murder weapon at the last crime scene, you’d assume the assailant would use the same one this time, if it was indeed the same person.”

  “There isn’t a weapon here either,” Daniel pointed out.

  “True. Just like people get used to driving the same brands of cars or wearing a certain type of jeans, shooters usually become attached to a certain weapon—especially hired killer types. The fact that the first shooter killed at a greater distance suggests a person who might be a great shot, but isn’t exactly comfortable with the killing part. Or maybe he just doesn’t do it as often. Shooting a human being was nothing new to the guy who took this shot. He didn’t mind getting up close and personal, which makes me think he lacks empathy and at the same time, wants to be certain the job is done.”

  Jerome spoke up. “You keep referring to the killer as male, but sometimes shooters are women.”

  I cocked my head to the officer. “Not very often. I read a study a while ago that women were most likely to use poison in their murder plots, and if they shot anyone, they normally went for the chest.”

  Jerome let out a low snort. Todd bent his head to him and mumbled, “Can you just imagine if hitwomen were common? We’d never be able to feel safe eating again.”

  Jerome chuckled and I rolled my eyes. The blinking lights from four police cruisers and the ambulance gave me a headache. Because of the rain, the murder scene was a forensic nightmare. “Bobby, when you’re ready, we’ll get the body bagged. But if you need me to set up a more permanent structure over the body, I can do it.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to widen the evidence sea
rch perimeter, but I believe I’ll have everything I need with this fellow in the next hour or so,” Bobby replied.

  “Todd and Jerome, start conducting interviews with the employees of the market and the apartment building residents. Someone must have seen something.” I turned to Ryan. “Try to find this guy’s car. He doesn’t strike me as the type who’d be dropped off. If someone drove him, he probably wouldn’t be dead.”

  Ryan nodded. “I’m on it.”

  After my officers had dispersed, I finally gave Daniel my full attention. “You should head home. Since you already unlocked the office doors at the apartment, there’s nothing else we need from you tonight.”

  Daniel looked straight at me, avoiding the dead guy. “What time do you think you’ll be home?”

  He said it in a quiet, unassuming way, and I suddenly felt bad for him. How many more nights did my husband have to spend alone? If we had a child, at least he’d have some company. Quickly, I struck the thought down. If anything, my openness to bringing an infant into this deadly world was dwindling.

  “It will be a few hours, at least.”

  Daniel’s arms abruptly enveloped me in a tight hug. “Be careful. I love you.” He planted a kiss on my lips and then left quickly.

  I drew in a long breath and focused on the body. Why in the hell was there a hitman from the Chicago mob in Blood Rock?

  13

  Daniel

  I put the visor down to block out the bright morning sunshine. The rain had finally stopped and I welcomed the blue skies and warmer weather. Puffy clouds moved rapidly, dotting the farmsteads with shadows that came and went. Neat rows of corn plants had sprouted up overnight, and the hayfields were growing tall and green. Springtime in the settlement was lush and beautiful. On days like this, I almost wished I was still Amish. I’d be out there tending my crops and horses, just like Joshua Miller.