“Fine. But you’d better move that adorable ass of yours because I’m leaving in ten.”
He sent her a grin. “Not without my changing that tire you won’t.”
She ran a finger along his jaw before curling her hand around his bicep. “Then put those muscles to work ASAP.”
By the time Garret put on a new tire, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. They reached Rumrunner Cove on time, but the weather was still wet and dreary when Anniston and Garret pulled up beside Dack’s Crown Vic in the parking lot.
Dack seemed nervous, but he motioned for them to come sit with him in the Ford.
“Why meet out here?” Anniston wanted to know as soon as she crawled into the front seat while Garret got into the back.
“I have a better question. Why did you bring him with you?” Dack asked, thumbing a hand toward Garret.
“Because I’m the client,” Garret said flatly. “The victims were my family.”
Dack rubbed his temple, stared through the windshield at two fishermen who had thrown their lines in the water. “Fine. Let’s try to make this look like we’re having a normal conversation about where Ryan Connelly was found.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. Why so secretive? Why do you look so stressed out? Not sleeping well? What’s going on?”
“I have some things I need to tell you. I’d planned to walk and talk and act as though we’re studying more of the crime scene. But because of the rain we might as well sit here and stay dry. You wanted to know the autopsy results for Walker Buchanan and the boy, right?”
“What have you got?”
“Walker suffered from blunt force trauma. He was beaten to a pulp and then suffocated with the same type of plastic bag used on his wife and daughter. The boy had considerably less head trauma but died from asphyxiation all the same.”
Garret was glad he hadn’t eaten breakfast because he thought he might have to open the door to be sick. “So if they weren’t attacked in their own home, where did all this trauma take place? They had to have screamed, made noise. How did a beating happen right under our noses?”
Dack twisted in his seat to better answer Garret. “Not sure yet. But there’s something else. On the morning of September twenty-fourth, early on that Thursday at 2:55 a.m., a Florida state trooper on routine patrol near Port Charlotte stopped a minivan traveling north at a high rate of speed on Interstate 75. The vehicle was registered to Olivia Buchanan. The male driver was ticketed for speeding, fifteen miles over the limit. The man’s driver’s license was issued to an Alton Rennie.”
“But he wasn’t the owner of the vehicle. Shouldn’t that have flown up a red—?” Anniston began, jumping in.
“Would you let me finish?” Dack snapped.
“Sorry.”
“When the trooper asked why Rennie was driving someone else’s van, he got a story from Rennie about housesitting for a vacationing couple out of Indigo Key. The registration had the Indigo Key address and it didn’t show up on the hot sheet. Rennie was supposed to pick up the couple at the Tampa Bay Airport later that morning, in their own van. That was the guy’s story.”
“And the cop believed that?”
Dack rolled his eyes. “Obviously, the trooper made a judgment call. But the real Alton Rennie had reported his wallet stolen at Hialeah race track two days before the traffic stop.”
“Didn’t the cop notice the photo didn’t match?”
“That’s just it. The photo looked similar to the driver.” Dack reached for a file folder on the dash and took out a picture of Alton Rennie as it appeared on his driver’s license. “Who does that look like to you?”
Garret leaned over the console to peer at the picture. “Son of a bitch. It looks like Boone Dandridge or his brother.”
“That’s right. The men have very similar features, which is probably why Rennie was singled out at the race track.”
“Does that mean you have enough to get a warrant?” Garret asked, hopeful.
Dack raked his hands through his blond hair. “Not yet. It’s all supposition at this point. I have no proof whatsoever that Dandridge was anywhere near the Tampa Airport dropping off the minivan at that remote parking lot. Whoever left it, picked the perfect satellite place to park with zero surveillance.”
“From my understanding the lot was so far from the airport, they relied on a shuttle to get back and forth to the terminals,” Anniston added.
“Let’s just say it wasn’t the handiest place to park, but it was the cheapest per day around.” Dack pivoted toward the backseat again. “Are you beginning to see the problems with taking this to the state prosecutor this early? That’s why I’d appreciate a little silence. Don’t go spreading this around until I know more. There’s a reason I’m asking for discretion.”
“I have to tell my family,” Garret insisted.
“No, you don’t,” Dack retorted. “Tell them about the results of the autopsies. Anything beyond that is off the record. Give me your word you’ll keep this conversation between the three of us. If you don’t, I won’t share another item of interest.”
Garret understood the weight of such a promise. “Okay. You got it,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll keep my mouth shut about the traffic stop.”
“There’s more to it than that, something bigger that requires a lot more digging. If the driver’s license was stolen two days prior to the murders—”
“That means it was well-planned,” Anniston finished.
“That’s the way I’m leaning. Also, on the night of the murders a burglar alarm went off at 9:09 p.m. at one of the businesses across from the marina.”
Garret swallowed hard, believing they were finally getting some answers. “The Vitamin Hut?”
“Exactly. One of Sinclair’s patrolmen responded. He wrote in his report that a witness spotted a dark blue sedan, a late model Q50 near the store at about the same time.”
Garret huffed out a breath. “It’s probably not a coincidence that Roger Baskin owns an Infiniti.”
Dack turned the wipers on to clear the rain that had collected on the windshield. “That’s right, which means there’s a likelihood that we’re looking at more than one person involved.” He stabbed his finger at Anniston. “You’re usually decent with research. You want to tell me why you were off the mark with Dandridge?”
“What do you mean? I gave you everything I found on him.”
“When Roland Wainwright was picked up in Oregon for petty crimes two decades ago, his rap sheet listed him at five-nine, a hundred and forty-five pounds. Boone Dandridge has to be six feet. After twenty years you’d expect a weight gain, but the man didn’t grow three inches in height.”
Anniston looked as though she’d been punched in the stomach. “If that’s true then they aren’t one and the same at all.”
Dack turned to Garret. “Are you beginning to see the complexity of all this? I’m not sure how many are involved. Right now, today, everyone’s a suspect. That’s why I’m telling you it’s more complicated than I could ever imagine. I need time to sort this out. I need personnel I don’t have. If Captain Briggs—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it, Dack,” Anniston snarled. “You’re in trouble with the higher ups if you share deets with us, but you’re shorthanded, so you’re willing to make an exception.”
“It isn’t that, Anniston. I’m limited as to where I can go here. You aren’t. Understand?”
She tilted her head, eyeing him with open interest. “Are you telling me the state investigators are tying your hands? Why? Why would they do something like that?”
“To a certain extent, yes. And the short answer is I don’t know. Sinclair is of no help whatsoever. Ask yourself why I was sent down here. Of all the detectives in this jurisdiction, they pick me to handle this particular case. At first, I was flattered. But this has taken so many turns I’m wondering if someone pulled some strings to get me here.”
Garret suddenly remembered a key detail. He leaned over the front seat. “Royce Buchanan
admitted he called Tallahassee when he thought this was a kidnapping. He asked for a special investigator to handle it instead of Sinclair. He wasn’t happy you showed up. He thought you were too inexperienced. In fact, I guess we all did. I apologize for that.”
“Yeah, well, you aren’t that far off the mark. I’ve asked repeatedly for them to send me other detectives. So far, I’ve gotten stonewalled. I know other murders are happening all over the state, but…this thing is way understaffed. It’s been strange from the get-go. But I’m beginning to think it’s clinging to life support on purpose.”
“Like getting the letter dropped on our doorstep that night from the killer. That was weird,” a well-meaning Garret offered.
Dack looked puzzled and then stared at Anniston. “What letter?”
Her eyes narrowed at Garret’s gaffe. She tried to do damage control. “It’s not what you think. We weren’t even sure it was legit. But whoever wrote it, did mention the beatings and the plastic bag, which I guess the autopsies proved did happen.”
“I want to see that note,” Dack demanded. “What else are you holding back from me? See, that’s what I mean. No one wants to cooperate. It’s impossible to fully do my job if I can’t even trust a person I’ve known practically my entire life. I understand the chief of police is not in my corner. I’m not sure what’s happening back at the capitol with my own department. But you? I trusted you. And we had an agreement.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. You’re right. It won’t happen again. I’ll see that you get a copy. But I’ve already had it analyzed by a lab and there were no fingerprints left on it. I do know the type of machine used, an HP LaserJet 9500.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
“Because I wasn’t entirely sure you wouldn’t go running to the wrong person back in Tallahassee. I had clients to protect. I think of you as someone who doesn’t bend the rules very often. I’m kind of surprised you’re willing to bring me in like this. You told me not to ask for favors.”
“I did, didn’t I? Right now, I don’t feel like I have much of a choice. I’m running out of contacts in this town. Some days I feel as though I’m making headway. Other times, not so much. Today is one of those days I wish I’d listened to my mother and become a lawyer.”
“We’ll get more help when Sebastian gets here. What exactly do I have to do right this minute to get my hands on Walker’s email account? I need to know if Walker ever got in touch with Werner Dietrich.”
Dack looked around the dunes to make sure the two fishermen showed no interest in their meeting. “So you’re still pushing the treasure hunt theory? I suppose it’s as good as any. I have Walker’s email file back in the office here. There’s no smoking gun there, Anniston. There’s no Werner Dietrich emails among his contacts.”
Her enthusiasm waned. “Maybe Walker used another email account that we don’t know anything about.”
“It’s possible. But he didn’t create an account on his home computer.”
“What about Livvy? Were there emails between her and Nathan?”
Dack looked surprised. “Hollister? A few. Mostly talking about meeting up to go shopping.”
“I don’t think they were buying anything, Dack,” Garret clarified.
Dack lifted a brow. “Well, that’s interesting. And now, Hollister can’t be found either. No wonder his wife doesn’t seem all that concerned about finding him.”
“I had to twist her arm to file an official report,” Anniston explained. “Even though you don’t think there’s anything in Walker’s emails, will you still share the file with me?”
“Sure. I’ll drop it off at the hotel later.”
She made a face. “I’d rather you give it directly to me rather than leave it at the front desk. How about if I stop by and pick it up?”
Dack scowled at the offer. “I don’t want you parading by Sinclair’s office door to pick it up. Better still, we should meet somewhere out of town, away from the watchful eyes of the locals. How about that rest stop north of town?”
“The one with the Polynesian-style huts for restrooms?”
“That’s the one. Say around seven o’clock tonight. I’ll be heading back to Largo by then.” He thumbed a hand toward Garret. “And be sure to bring him with you. Don’t go skulking around without backup.”
“I don’t skulk.” But Anniston grabbed Dack’s arm when she saw the worry on his face. “You’re really that afraid? I’ve never seen you this cautious before. You’re starting to scare me.”
“You should be scared. Whoever killed Ryan Connelly and the Buchanan family are monsters. We need to get them off the street.”
On that warning, Garret and Anniston got out of the Crown Vic and back into her SUV. They watched as Dack put his car into gear and disappeared around the bend.
After she started up the Ford, Garret picked up her hand. “Sorry about letting the letter slip out. I thought he knew. I got caught up.”
“It’s okay. If I get Walker’s emails it’ll be a good trade for the note.”
“That’s a screwy way for things to work. And besides, Dack says there’s nothing in Walker’s emails.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. You want me to go with you to tell your parents about Walker and Blake?”
“No. I’ll handle it.” By the look on her face she seemed relieved, as if she already had another place to go, another strategy in mind. “Where are you headed?”
“Me? I’m gonna do the job you’re paying me to do. For starters, I’ll walk around town going from business to business and make a list of all the ones that use the right kind of printer.”
Garret sent her a strange look. “That could take all day.”
“Maybe not. It depends on where I start. I just have to think back to how long it’s been since I’ve gone to church.”
Anniston began on Bayside Boulevard, where Dandridge, or whoever he was, had set up shop at the Life Stone Church. Thanks to Lenore she knew the pastor left his office at noon for lunch. If things went well, maybe she could sneak inside and grab something with his fingerprints on it.
She waited until Boone got into his Land Rover before going up to the double doors that led to the auditorium. She held her breath and pulled on the handle, relieved to find it unlocked. She gingerly stepped inside, scanning the sanctuary to make sure it was empty. Once she was sure no one else was around, she walked past the rows of pews, down the corridor, and slipped into Boone’s paneled office with his name on the door.
She took out her phone and started snapping shots of the interior. Her eyes landed on the desktop printer. She almost danced a jig then and there when she determined it was the right model.
Outside in the hallway, she heard the floor creak. Getting caught wasn’t part of the plan. She opened the first door she came to, a supply closet, and flattened her body against the shelving. She hid inside the tiny space until the footsteps in the hall faded.
Opening the closet door, she grabbed the first thing she could reach that wouldn’t be missed—a bunch of wadded up Kleenex out of the trashcan. She stuffed the wad of tissues into a plastic baggie she’d brought with her. As souvenirs went, it was pretty disgusting. But the lab might be able to test them and determine who Dandridge really was.
Before she got caught, she opened the door to the office and made sure no one was in the vestibule. When the coast was clear, she slipped out a side door that led to the courtyard and made a mad dash to the alleyway. She took off running toward where she’d left her car the next street over.
One place down, now on to the next, Anniston thought, as she jerked the car out of park and took off.
Chapter Fourteen - Heat
After delivering the results of the autopsies to his parents, Garret collapsed in his dad’s easy chair with a headache brewing at the base of his skull.
He could tell his father took the news hardest. “It seems I was way off base about Walker.”
“Don’t do that,” Mitch snapped
. “Just because he was beaten to a pulp doesn’t make him less of an ass. Our goal now has to be finding out how he got himself and his family murdered.”
“It’s just that I was certain Walker had killed Livvy and was out there somewhere hiding. It even ran through my mind that Royce knew where he was.”
“I can’t even fathom why someone would suffocate children,” Garret muttered. Guilt spun through him like a mighty current. But he’d given his word to Hawkins that he’d keep his mouth shut about the other stuff. But maybe it didn’t count if he made a suggestion. “I think we should keep an eye on Dandridge and Baskin, make sure we keep tabs on those guys and know where they are at all times.”
“Way ahead of you,” Mitch stated. “Walsh agreed to follow Baskin. And I’ve been sitting outside Dandridge’s house every night until dawn.”
Garret found the energy to get to his feet. “Why didn’t you say something? There are three of us. We should take turns so one person doesn’t burn out.”
“I’ve only been at it for the last four nights. The evening I decided to do it, Mom, Dad, and Jackson were in Nags Head with Tessa for Ryan’s funeral and you’d gone out to the preserve to see if you could locate any shell casings left over from the shots fired there.”
“That excuse won’t cut it. I’ve been back for days,” Jackson said, sending a cool look toward his brother. “You could’ve said something. I’m happy to take my turn at watching either one of those men make a mistake.”
“Thanks but I have it covered. Besides, I’ve nothing else to do with my nights.” Mitch bobbed his head toward Jackson. “You’ve got Tessa. Garret’s in the process of pursuing Anniston. Me? I’m free and clear to play detective for as many hours as it takes.”
Garret paced in front of the window. “We’ve offered to help. I’m begging for something to do. Otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He angled toward his dad. “Surely there’s a project you’ve been wanting to start? I need to do something, anything at all. I can still handle a saw or a paintbrush.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Tanner said. “I could use something to do myself. A couple of months back your mother bugged the hell out of me to build her some shelves in the utility room. That was July and too damn hot to think about starting such a job in close quarters. But now…”
The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set Page 49