The Defenseless (Brandon Fisher FBI Series Book 3)

by Carolyn Arnold

  “Who did he come here with?”

  “Let’s take a seat over—”

  “We’re fine standing,” Jack interjected.

  “Don’t let this get out. I’m no snitch and I’m certainly no saint.”

  My eyes fell to the tattoos that riddled his bare arms.

  He leaned across the counter. “The man was cheating on his girl.” He slapped both hands on the counter. “There I said it. But don’t let it get out, because if you do, I’ll lose my clientele. What? It’s a bar, not a monastery.”

  “So he never came in here with a man?”

  “I never said that. I know the guy friends he’d come in with from time to time. None of them would have killed him.”

  “How many are we talking?”

  The tender curled his lips. “Three, tops.”

  “We’re going to need their names.”

  “Oh no. I’m not giving out that information. Like I said, I’d be shutting those doors for good if I did. Not going down as a snitch, especially an unemployed and broke one.”

  “We can get a warrant for your tabs and investigate it that way.”

  “Do what you have to do. Like I said, I’m not talking.” He faced me. “Am I going to need a lawyer?”

  *****

  “The guy’s an idiot.” Jack turned the key in the ignition, but the SUV contested. A second try had the engine starting and cold air blowing from the vents. I rushed to close mine.

  “The bar’s his livelihood. I’m not surprised he didn’t give us much.”

  “Hmm.”

  I deduced that guttural response as one not in my favor.

  “Call in and get the warrant started for his records.”

  “Jack, by the time that comes back and we make sense of it, we’ll have found the guy.”

  He pulled out a cigarette and lit up. “I call the shots, Kid, and I want that warrant. I have suspicions myself, and they are telling me a key to our unsub is in those records.”

  “He could’ve paid cash, which will leave us nowhere.” I wasn’t certain why I was being so stubborn and bucking his direction. He gave me a condemning glare that had me wishing I could reverse time a few precious seconds. “I’ll get it started.”

  “Why, thank you ever so much.”

  Chapter 8

  The results on Darren Simpson’s first wife were immediate just as Jack had anticipated. Paige had her answer from Nadia in less than two minutes. Her name was Lila Buxton. She reverted to her maiden name when her divorce from Simpson went through.

  Buxton’s laneway and path were cleared. The snow kept coming down, but the few inches on the pavement testified to it being shoveled not long ago.

  As they headed to the front door, a faceless voice called out. “Hello.”

  Zach had this dazed expression that Paige was sure mirrored her own confusion. At least she wasn’t hearing things.

  “I said hello.” A woman, who was easily three hundred pounds, came around the side of the house. Puffed up further with her winter coat, hat, scarf, and mitts, she was quite round. If her coat had been white, she would have looked like a giant marshmallow. Two dark eyes peered at them through the one-inch opening that wasn’t covered by fabric. She pulled down her scarf. “What do you want?”

  “We’re agents with the FBI.” Paige provided the formal introduction. “We’re looking for Lila Buxton.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you were merry fuckin’ Saint Nick himself. I’m busy.” She leaned on the shovel she held, heaving for breath, a cloud of white encircling the air around her head.

  “We’re here to talk to you about your late ex-husband.”

  “Ha!” She waved a hand in the air. “The world’s a better place without him. I know it might sound cruel to say that, but it’s the truth. And before you get carried away, I didn’t do it. I thought about it many times, I tell ya.” Her tone of voice, which had started off so defensive, transformed into passive.

  Paige had a suspicion. “Was he a violent man to live with?”

  Her eyes pinched shut, as if she were squinting to block out a glare, but Paige saw past it. She was deflecting.

  “You must be happy to have him out of your life, if that’s the case. A guy lays his hands on me once, I’d be outta there.”

  She studied Paige, and then passed the same inquisitive gaze on Zach. “You talked to his new bitch, haven’t you? She sent you this way, swore to the asshole’s innocence? Let me guess she fluttered her eyelashes and wore a skimpy little outfit while she did it.” Lila’s breathing remained labored, but Paige believed it had more to do with the topic of conversation at this point, rather than the earlier physical exertion.

  “The reason we’re here is because we think you might know who did this to him.”

  “You mean who killed him. You don’t have to pussy-foot around me. Why do you think I’d know his killer?”

  “We believe he was targeted because he was accused of animal abuse twenty-six years ago.”

  Lila laughed, doubling over, the shovel putting in extra duty to hold her up. She stayed in that position for several seconds, holding up a hand and indicating for them to give her a minute.

  “Miss Buxton, the person we’re after was aware that he poisoned that dog. He was killed in the same manner,” Zach said.

  She straightened out. “He deserved the way he went out.”

  “You believe he was guilty? The charges were dropped.”

  “Only because he knew someone who knew someone. And don’t ask me for any names ’cause it would be no good. I don’t know them.”

  “What was it like after he was found innocent of the charges?”

  She shook her head. “It was horrible. Partially why we split. The other part, if I haven’t mentioned it, he was an ass.”

  “Did you get hate mail?” Paige asked, thinking back to Cathy Lyons. Maybe if they got their hands on more, they could cross compare.

  “Hell yeah. We’d come home from work and the mailbox would be overflowing. Animal activists and such. I remember one clearly.”

  “And?”

  “You’d love to know, wouldn’t you? I don’t want the bastard to get justice. He deserved what he had coming. Hell, I’d throw a parade in the killer’s honor.” Lila pointed a gloved finger between them. “Make sure people care before you ask them for help.”

  “It’s not just about Darren Simpson,” Paige started, and passed a glance to Zach. “There’s another man’s life on the line.”

  Lila laughed. “If he was as much of a saint as Darren was, he deserves whatever’s coming.”

  “Miss Buxton, you have the chance to make a difference.”

  “I do, already, every day. The whole world is a brighter place with me in it.” She sniggered.

  Neither of them even smiled.

  “I’m sorry that some other animal has suffered at the hands of a madman, but as for this guy killing animal abusers? I say all the power to him. Hell, if he was running for office, he’d have my vote. At least he’s doing something about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. Those in power do nothing.”

  Paige ruminated on the conversation thus far. Lila had mentioned that Darren had beat his charges because he knew someone who knew someone. Was that person someone in higher power? Where they still around? She made a note to investigate the background of Denver’s elite.

  “You said you received hate mail, do you still have them?”

  “From twenty-six years ago? No way. But I do remember where at least one letter came from because I contacted the manager.”

  “The manager?”

  “It came from Humanity Against Animal Abusers. It’s an animal activist group.”

  *****

  Paige did up her seatbelt. “Wasn’t she a ray of sunshine? We must have expected too much to think she’d have letters like Lyons, but we did get another lead.”

  Zach flipped on the wipers. They cleared the snow but left a coating
of ice.

  “Seeing as you never offer to scrape…”

  She smiled. “It’s not a woman’s job.”

  “You women always want to be seen as equals, so go ahead and take out the garbage, shovel the snow, and warm up cars. Lila Buxton doesn’t seem to have a problem with heavy labor.”

  “I’m not even going there, and you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

  “Then why are you smiling?” Zach hitched his brows before he jumped out of the SUV with the scraper.

  As Paige watched him move around in the frigid air, she was thankful for the shelter inside the vehicle. Cool air still blew from the vents, but at least she was starting to get feeling back in her toes.

  The onboard system rang.

  “Paige Dawson.”

  “It’s time to talk about where we’re at so far.” It was Jack.

  “We’ll meet you at the station? Or the local field office?”

  “At a restaurant called The Buckhorn Exchange.”

  Before she could ask for directions, Jack disconnected.

  Zachery opened the door, brushed the snow off his jacket, and threw the scraper into the back. “Now where to? I heard the phone.”

  “To The Buckhorn Exchange.”

  “What’s there?”

  Paige smiled. “Dinner.”

  Chapter 9

  The Buckhorn Exchange was Denver’s original steakhouse. They specialized in menu items not common elsewhere such as buffalo, elk, rattlesnake, and alligator. Taxidermy lined the walls, and, according to our waitress, were hunted by the founders of the restaurant. Management continued to work hard to stake claim to the place being a landmark, not simply a place to eat.

  We had already placed our food orders and, of all the meat offered, Paige went with salmon. I wasn’t even that adventurous and stuck with beef. I had an eight-ounce tenderloin, and Jack went with a T-bone steak. Zachery ventured and ordered elk. We all declined alcohol and went with coffee or soda.

  Jack lifted his mug of coffee. “All right, where are we? Brandon, start us off.”

  My hand was wrapped around my soda glass, but I didn’t lift it for a sip. “We spoke with Simpson’s widow and—”

  “Was she as hot as McClellan said?” Zachery asked.

  Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Haven’t we beaten that subject to death?”

  Zachery defended his position. “How can you talk about a beautiful woman too much?”

  “Zach, the case.” Jack’s voice was all business.

  I continued. “As I was going to say, Simpson’s widow, Jenna, didn’t give the impression of being too consumed with grief, at least at first. When we pushed the matter, her sorrow became more obvious.”

  “Interesting. Do you think she’s hiding something?”

  “I’m not sure, but when we visited the bar she directed us to—”

  “Smitty’s?”

  “Yeah. She said her husband had a new friend he hung out with lately and they’d go there to play pool. Only thing is, when we showed up, the manager didn’t know anything about a new male friend in Simpson’s life.”

  “Oh.” Paige’s single-word expression held air time.

  “Yeah, you’re on the right track. It seems the man was cheating on his wife.”

  “You mean the hot woman?” Zachery warranted a crossway glare from Paige. He shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, What?

  “What the kid hasn’t mentioned yet is, when we asked the manager for names, he sealed up.”

  “So, what’s he holding back?” Paige asked.

  “Exactly. Brandon’s ordered a warrant to secure the receipts from the bar.” Jack sat back in the booth.

  The gesture prompted Paige and Zachery to fill us in on what they found.

  “Well, you know that Lyons held onto the hate mail and that she’s working to dig them up. What you don’t know is, Lila Buxton, Darren’s wife at the time he was charged, also said that they were recipients of hate mail,” Paige said.

  “Were you able to get them from her?”

  “Unfortunately, no. She threw them out a long time ago, so there’s no way that we can compare them to the letters we get from Lyons.”

  “However, she mentioned that her husband beat the animal abuse charges because ‘he knew someone who knew someone.’” Zachery took his napkin off the table and spread it across his lap.

  “Hmm.”

  “Exactly what I thought, Jack.” Paige took a sip of her pop. “I want to dig into the history of Denver and see if any names stand out among the politicians.”

  “Referring to a person as ‘someone’ could also imply wealth, not just power, but it doesn’t hurt to look into it.”

  “Glad you agree. I called Nadia about it already.”

  “But that’s not all we got from the lovely former Mrs. Simpson,” Zachery began.

  “Zach, you’re using the term lovely rather loosely.” Paige laughed.

  It was the deep, throaty one that extended her neck and made her eyes sparkle. It made me smile. She caught my eye and glanced away.

  Jack lowered his coffee mug and leveled his gaze on Zachery.

  He continued. “She mentioned one letter that she received.”

  “After all these years? What was special about it?”

  “She said she called the company who issued it.”

  Jack and I both sat up straighter.

  “They received hate mail from a company?” I asked.

  “Yeah. The company is an animal activist group.” Zachery gestured toward Paige. “She searched the Internet on her smartphone on the way here. They’re still around.”

  “You have the name of the person who sent the letter?” I asked.

  Paige answered, “No, but we have the name of the manager she spoke to. According to the website, he still runs the place and you’re not going to believe who it is.”

  “I dislike guessing games,” Jack said.

  “Craig Bowen.”

  “Bowen? That’s the garbage man who found Simpson’s body,” I said.

  “I’m sure they’d prefer the term waste management technician,” Zachery chirped in.

  “Zach.”

  “Sorry, Boss. Anyway, the group is made up of volunteers, but Bowen’s the leader. Now, while that’s interesting, there’s more. He’s the stepbrother of Kent Fields, the journalist who reported on the animal abuse charges.”

  I leaned forward on the table and pushed my glass toward the middle. “The man who is a multi-millionaire, winner of Pulitzers?”

  “That’s him. Bowen would have had access to intimate knowledge of these cases too.”

  “Possibly hands-on experience with helping the injured animals. Once we get Lyons’s mail, we’ll have to see if Lyons received a letter from Bowen as well,” Jack added.

  “I’ve also been thinking about how far the charges go back. Why go after these people now?” I began. “Does the killer think he’ll get away with it? That no one would be paying attention?”

  “I agree, Pending.”

  “Would you stop calling me that?”

  Zachery smiled. “Well, it’s true.”

  “I’m a pending agent, that isn’t my name.”

  “Cut it out, both of you.” Jack shot us a glare. “You’re acting like damn children.”

  I drew my gaze from Zachery. “Our unsub probably figures there will be a lot of suspects to throw us off his track. He might be the least prospective candidate.”

  “Quite possible, Brandon, or he could be right in front of us.” Paige’s eyes lit, but she didn’t form a smile.

  “It makes sense, Boss,” Zachery said. “One other thing that strikes me is the bodies of Ball and Garner were never found. Simpson’s was. Either the killer has decided to send a message or he wants to be stopped.”

  “It could be a combination of both,” I added.

  Our waitress, a petite redhead, came back and set our meals in front of us. “Enjoy. And if there’s anything you need, call for me,”
she said as she’d backed away from table.

  Jack gestured to all of us with his fork. “Like she said, enjoy. Tomorrow’s going to be one hell of day.”

  Chapter 10

  Morning came too fast, which left me hurrying around the room, gathering an outfit from my suitcase—thank God for wrinkle-free fabric—and running out the door. I was determined to do so before Jack came knocking.

  I found the three of them standing in the lobby and figured I had gotten there just in time.

  “He did decide to join us.” Zachery raised his voice loud enough that I was certain the people working the front desk would have heard him.

  In fact, a female employee was smiling at me.

  “Now that you’re here, I’ll lay out the day’s agenda,” Jack said.

  I tried to focus on Jack, but my attention kept going to Paige. She was beautiful—kissed by a good night’s sleep, her lips a natural pink, her green eyes shaded in a sultry brown, and soft curls framed her face. She loved mornings, and they loved her back.

  If there was a way for us to truly be together, without either of us forfeiting our careers, I would give the relationship an honest try. The best we could expect were random and secret rendezvous, and even those, we should probably put an end to.

  I dropped into one of the sofa chairs and Jack passed me a corrective glance.

  I stood, reluctantly.

  “Paige and Zach, I want you to go to the animal shelter where Simpson’s dog was brought in twenty-six years ago.”

  “Makes sense. It’s also where Lyons’s dog was brought,” Paige said.

  “Correct. Now, it’s the only shelter in the area, but there are a few veterinary clinics. While the injured animals could have been brought to any of these locations, the charges were arranged for through the shelter.”

  “We’ll find out how all of that works, Boss. See if we can find any names that line up.”

  “Good, and while you’re doing that, Brandon and I will be speaking with Craig Bowen.”

  I was impressed he referred to me by name, and not by Kid or Slingshot. Maybe my standing up to Zachery last night had actually made a difference?

  “What about the reporter?” Zachery asked.