Jackson’s eyes got big. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s eat this delicious meal and go pay him a visit.”
The police station was a two-story brick building that shared space with city hall. They walked through the double doors into a long hallway that divided the mayor’s office and town council from the other side used by the police department.
Another set of double doors led to a small lobby where the desk sergeant, Brill Gaffigan, usually parked himself this time of night working a crossword puzzle when he wasn’t manning dispatch.
They’d known Brill most of their lives. He’d started out as a carpenter like their dad. But while Tanner had stuck with his skillset doing renovations, when the economy tanked in the 90s, Brill had opted for a second-shift job as a patrol officer. The steady income meant Brill started out mostly running radar on Main Street and handing out tickets to tourists who didn’t have the sense to read a speed zone sign and slow down going through town.
These days, Brill had moved up the ranks to sergeant and was content to sit on his butt behind a desk from three-thirty in the afternoon to midnight, heading up his domain and keeping the peace.
But tonight Brill’s chair sat empty.
“Is it just me or is it eerily quiet in here tonight,” Jackson commented as he stood there looking around.
“Hello? Anyone here?” Mitch called out to an echo that reverberated off the walls. “Brill? You here?”
“Maybe he took a pee break,” Jackson suggested, glancing to his left and right, cautious of how dead the place seemed. “I’ll go check the bathroom.”
Garret watched Jackson disappear down the hallway and considered the situation. “I’ll go check the break room. Brill might be eating his supper about now.”
That left Mitch to wander around the perimeter. He stuck his head around the corner where Sinclair’s office used to be, but found the room unoccupied and locked. He switched directions and started down a short hallway that led to the lockup area. He spotted Brill’s big feet sticking out from under a workstation.
“Get back here!” Mitch shouted to his brothers. “I found him!”
Mitch leaned over Brill’s prone body, relief swelling through him when he realized the man was still alive. He patted Brill’s face. “Come around now, Brill! Come on. Tell me what happened.”
Brill tried to sit up. “I heard something back here coming from Jessup’s cell. He’s the only one we got back here tonight. Someone hit me from behind. Hard. Knocked me out cold, I guess.”
“Seems like there’s a lot of that going around,” Garret muttered from the doorway.
Brill pointed to Sinclair’s empty jail cell. “I’m sorry, guys. I guess whoever hit me, let him loose.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jackson said, as he walked further into the area where Sinclair had been held for a mere two hours.
“I’m sorry, guys,” Brill repeated.
“No, it’s my fault for leaving Jessup alive this afternoon,” Mitch admitted. The words burned in his throat like cheap whiskey. “I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. Believe me, I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Jackson said. “You tried doing the right thing, turning him in, letting the system play itself out.”
“Yeah. And didn’t that work out grand?” A sick feeling washed over Mitch. “Do you think Jessup would go after Raine again?”
Garret scratched the side of his jaw. “No. I think this time he’s long gone. He’s met up with his buddies by now.”
“I’m not taking any chances.” Mitch took out his cell phone and sent a text to Raine. Don’t panic but Sinclair escaped. Stay with Mom and Dad till I get back.
While he waited for Raine’s reply, Mitch gave Brill the once-over, beginning to wonder if he’d been hit at all. He ran his fingers over Brill’s head to verify he’d actually taken a blow to the head. After feeling the bump, Mitch studied Brill’s eyes. They were glazed over like Maddie’s had been earlier that afternoon.
Mitch’s phone dinged with Raine’s response. Be careful. Anniston wants to know if you need her.
He keyed in his message. Stay put. All of you, until we get some answers.
After responding to Raine, Mitch took hold of Brill’s chin. “You need a doctor?”
“Nah. I’ll be okay. I got a hard noggin.”
“You feel like standing up?” Mitch wanted to know.
“Sure. It’d be better than the floor.”
Mitch helped the older man get to his feet. “Did the chief have any visitors tonight, Brill?”
“Just one of Briggs’s men.”
“Not Baskin or Dandridge?” Garret asked, surprised.
“Nope. Roger never come in here. Boone didn’t either. You can check the surveillance camera if you want. It’s right up there in the corner and you can access the feed through this workstation.” Brill tapped the table. “Nowadays, this whole place is on CCTV, that’s what they call it, so it’d be mighty hard for me to lie to you.”
“Which one of Brigg’s men?” Jackson asked.
“The older guy. The one with two last names.”
“Turner Grey? I knew something was off with that guy,” Mitch stated. “What did he do, walk in here and hit you over the head?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Brill protested. “Grey came in here about six-thirty. Said Briggs sent him over to make sure Sinclair was okay. I let him in the back, right where we’re standing now, but never opened Sinclair’s cell door. I came back here with him, stayed for a few minutes and then left to go back to the front desk. After that, I kept an eye on them through the monitor.”
“So Sinclair and Grey were left alone for a few minutes while you made your way back to the lobby, is that it?”
“I guess so. The two of them had a brief conversation. No idea what they talked about. And then Grey left about fifteen minutes later. Sinclair was still in his cell. I swear it.”
“Mind if I take a look at the feed?” Garret asked. But he was already tapping the keys to access the computer’s hard drive and view the video from an hour earlier.
“What happened next?” Mitch asked, just to keep Brill occupied so he wouldn’t notice Garret’s activities.
“I heard a noise coming from back here about an hour after Grey left. I came to check it out before I took my supper break. And whack, somebody hit me over the head. I need to call Briggs.”
“That ought to be a great convo,” Mitch muttered. “Is he staying at the Mainsail Lodge?”
“Nope. The state rented the old Dalfourth place so that all three of them could be at the same location.”
“Dalfourth House is a little on the pricey side, don’t you think?” Mitch pointed out.
Brill held his aching head in his hands. Despite the pain, the man could still get chatty. “That’s what I thought. But hey, it must run up a bill to bunk at the hotel and use up three rooms, right? They’d save a bundle if all three could stay at the same place, less likely to run into the locals, right? They wouldn’t have to interact with too many people. And it’s only two blocks from here. So…you know…convenient.”
“Is that right? For whom I wonder? Doesn’t Buchanan still own that place?”
Jackson shook his head. “No, not him. But I’m fairly certain one of the city councilmen does.”
“Can you say conflict of interest?”
Brill picked up the phone on the desk to call Briggs. “That’s weird. He’s not answering his cell.”
Mitch traded looks with Jackson. “I don’t like what I’m thinking. We’ll head over there, Brill. You stay put. We’ll call you when we get there.” Mitch cut his eyes toward Garret. “You ready to go check out the Dalfourth place?”
Garret nodded as he finished perusing the video and closed out of the file. “Sure. Let’s get out of here.”
Once outside, Garret made it known what he’d seen on the surveillance. “I don’t know how Grey did it, but he managed to come in throug
h a side door to get back inside using a card key. Turner Grey is definitely the one who conked Brill over the head with a flashlight, probably the reason it didn’t do as much damage to his skull. I downloaded the file that shows the whole thing, copied it just in case it suddenly went missing and emailed it to myself.”
“Good call.”
They piled into Mitch’s truck, drove the two blocks to a grand old Victorian that sat at the corner of Main and Cobblestone. The original owners had been the Dalfourth family, a wealthy industrialist who lived in upstate New York and used the home as a vacation place once a year. It was more than a century old and had gone through several attempts at renovation. All had failed to bring it back to its glory days. But it wasn’t for lack of trying. Outside, it sported a roof less than twenty years old, a new paved driveway that led around back to a carriage house, and newish windows, a result of one of the more severe tropical storms that blew through town. A well-maintained landscape kept the shrubs and ancient trees trimmed, nice and tidy.
Inside, the oak floors had been redone, walls painted in a palette that seemed to appeal to the tourists who fought to rent it out each summer.
Mitch stepped along the sidewalk, up past a trellis of deep blue petunias, climbing to reach the roof, and onto the long planked veranda. He rapped his knuckles against the door. Minutes ticked by and no one answered. “I’m beginning to get a sick feeling about this,” he told his brothers.
Garret put his hands up to the front window, tried to see inside. When he caught a glimpse of light pouring from one of the rooms at the back of the house, he offered to go in.
“Not alone you won’t,” Jackson stated emphatically. “This whole thing is starting to creep me out.”
“Do you smell gas?” Mitch wondered aloud, sniffing the air. “I think it’s coming from inside.”
Before he could say or do anything else, a blast of rolling fire hurled the trio off the porch, through the air, past the railing, leaving splinters behind, small as toothpicks. Panes of glass sent a burst of shards airborne, scattering the debris across the yard.
The fire ravaged the wooden structure even as they sat on the ground and watched.
“Something tells me Sinclair beat us here,” Mitch shouted over the sound of crackling and popping lumber. He picked himself up off the bed of broken flowers, dialed 911. “You think the fire department will be able to save it?”
Jackson looked at the destruction. “Not a chance. Whatever’s in there is toast.” He glanced over at Garret. “Still want to break into the bank vault?”
“Not after that. I need to calm down first. I’m so friggin’ rattled I’d most likely set off the alarm.” He held out his hands, still shaking from the ordeal. “See?”
Mitch held up his own unsteady hand. “I hear ya. But who’s left to respond if you get caught? Brill? I’d think tonight, of all nights, might be the perfect opportunity.”
“Okay. You have a point. After we talk to the fire chief, I guess I’ll see if I can work my magic. After all, I’ve never broken into a bank before. Should be interesting.”
Blown back a good fifteen feet from the doorway, Jackson rested his hands on his knees and sent them both a knowing look. “I just realized you don’t have to break in. I know where we can get the key.”
“You’re kidding? And you’re just now bringing that up?” Mitch grunted.
“It just occurred to me while I’m sitting here staring at that wall of fire. Wendy’s off in protective custody somewhere, right? There has to be a key to the bank somewhere inside Nathan’s house along with the security codes.”
“Likely in his home office. He might’ve even kept the information on his laptop,” Garret decided, wiping the sweat from his face. Giving it serious consideration, he looked at the time on his watch. “Okay. I’m in. When should we do the deed?”
Jackson heard the roar of sirens coming from the fire trucks already en route. The engines wailed as they rounded the corner. He watched as firemen jumped out of the side doors to begin hooking up the water hoses at the hydrant. “We’ll head over there as soon as we explain all this to them.”
The scene looked like a roaring fire pit, something dreamed up by a Hollywood screenwriter and carried out by actors.
But this was real.
“We think the makeshift bomb was placed at the back,” Mitch determined, bending the ear of Tag Linderman, the fire chief. He’d gone to school with Tag—from kindergarten on, right up to graduation. The little boy Mitch had known all those years ago claimed from the very beginning he’d end up a fireman one day.
And tonight Tag showed he was up to the task. “I thought this house was vacant,” Tag bellowed over the tube of fire, watching the breeze whip the orange flames skyward.
“It was until two days ago,” Mitch explained, going over the story for Tag’s benefit. “I’d just knocked on the door hoping to talk to Paul Briggs when the blast blew us clear off the porch.”
Tag squinted up at the inferno, saw his men fight to get the blaze under control. “Why do you think the fire started in the back?”
“Bomb,” Mitch corrected. “This was some kind of improvised explosive device that set the fire. If it had been placed anywhere near the front of the house, my brothers and I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you now. We’d be blown to bits.”
“And you’re saying you think Jessup did this after escaping from jail?”
“That’s right. Turner Grey helped him. I think you’ll find at least two bodies in there, Briggs and detective Vargas.”
“What a nightmare,” Tag stated. “What’s gotten into this town? I’ve lived here all my life and never seen so much crime happening in such a short amount of time. My wife’s already looking at putting our house up for sale. She wants to take the kids and move up to Key Largo. Trouble is, I can’t think of a reason not to go.”
“I wish I could tell you it’d get better, but only if we’re somehow able to put Sinclair back in jail and catch Baskin and Dandridge.”
“That’s another thing. My wife and I go to church at Life Stone. I take my car over to Baskin’s place when it acts up. I buy my kids a dozen doughnuts at Carson’s bakery. I voted for Dave Oakerson every time he ran for mayor and now he’s nowhere around when all this shit hits the fan. If you can’t trust the people you’ve been around for most of your life, then who can you trust? What do we do without the state police intervening, Mitch?”
Mitch raked a hand through his hair. “I’m working on it. For starters persuade your wife to hold off on heading up to Key Largo. Okay?”
“Sure. But from here on out I’m sleeping with a Beretta under my pillow.”
Shortly before midnight, Garret picked the lock on the back door of Hollister’s stately Southern style home. Standing on the back terrace, he could hear the water from the marina lap at the shoreline. “Nice place. Nathan’s come up in the world.”
“Yeah. And to think I thought this was all Wendy’s doing,” Jackson admitted once they stood inside the king-sized kitchen. “Now I know better. Look at this place. I think Mom and Dad’s whole house would fit into this one room.”
“Did Wendy even cook?” Mitch asked, glancing around at the pristine appliances. He walked over and opened the refrigerator door. “I just answered my own question. There’s no food in here, just a bag of coffee beans and a wilted bag of lettuce.”
“Wendy did spend a lot of time at Oakerson’s,” Jackson quipped. “Imagine his refrigerator right about now. Imagine them never finding his body.”
“That’s what they said about Darla Pendleton. And now, they’re trying to find her remains.”
Garret wandered off down a hallway to look for the study. Spotting a set of double French doors that led into a nice library, he shoved them open and saw a mess. “Hey guys, you need to see this.”
Mitch and Jackson lumbered past the den and into what had been Nathan’s office. They stared at the state of the room.
“Sinclair and his
bunch have been busy,” Mitch noted. “They had the same idea.”
Jackson picked up a mess of papers off the floor. “Yeah, but it doesn’t look like they found what they came for.”
“Don’t panic,” Garret said by way of assuring them. “All I need is to get into Nathan’s laptop or find—”
“We’re looking at this all wrong,” Jackson told them, pacing in front of a wall of bookshelves. “We have to think like Nathan and Wendy. They wouldn’t have left the key in such an obvious place like the office. No, they’d need to think they were outsmarting their so-called allies. They’d store it away somewhere other valuables were kept. And since Wendy has been here alone for several weeks, I’d say she put the key where she liked to have it handy.”
“You think it’s at Oakerson’s place?” Mitch wisecracked.
Jackson grinned. “No. Wendy wouldn’t have trusted Dave that much.” Jackson took off for the master bedroom with Mitch trailing behind.
He went straight to the walk-in closet, settled on Wendy’s side where a layer of fashionable dresses and women’s business suits hung neatly on hangers. He pulled back the clothes and pointed to a wall safe. “We need Garret.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Justice
On Quay Avenue, Raine slept fitfully on the couch. She’d convinced Anniston and Tessa to take Livvy’s old room and get some sleep. So when Mitch and his brothers tiptoed through the front door, she heard the hardwood floor creak with three pairs of footsteps.
“Where have you guys been?” Raine whispered. “It’s almost four in the morning.”
Mitch went over to her, kissed her deep on the mouth.
She tasted whiskey. Taking his chin in her hand, she gazed into his brown eyes. “Have you been drinking?”
“Just a little celebratory nip of bourbon Nathan and Wendy had on hand.”
“Two-hundred-dollar bottle of scotch,” Garret murmured as he dropped into his mother’s side chair. “Why don’t you tell her what happened?”
The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set Page 90