“Bree, you can tell me anything.”
When she lifted her chin, her eyes were conflicted. “This is going to sound callous, but I’m grateful both sets of remains are so old. Adam is cleared. He wasn’t even born in 1990.”
“I doubt Adam is capable of killing someone.”
“I agree.” Bree’s voice went hoarse. “Let’s be honest. If one of us was going to be a killer, it would be me, not Adam. He’s the quiet, calm one.”
Killers could be quiet and calm, but Matt didn’t mention that.
“You’re calm.” His attempt at levity fell flat.
Bree continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Cops who have shot suspects have told me they have nightmares forever. That those dead men stayed with them. That hasn’t happened with me. Sure, I’ve had a few bad dreams, but the men I killed in the past six months haven’t weighed on me like they should have. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe it’s genetic. Maybe it’s too easy for Taggerts to kill.”
Matt had killed a man a few months ago. That man’s face haunted him on nights when he couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t tell Bree.
Worry deepened the crow’s-feet around her eyes. Her voice trailed off for a few seconds. “Most cops go their entire careers without drawing their weapons. But I didn’t even hesitate when I pulled the trigger.”
“You’re trained to stop the threat, and that’s exactly what you did. If you had hesitated, you’d be dead. Instead, your training kicked in, and you did what you needed to do.” The same had happened to Matt.
Bree’s nod was tight. “Todd asked about Adam. Clearly, he had nothing to do with the murders, but the press will still call. One reporter already called me. He wants to interview Adam.”
“Which reporter?”
“Nick West.”
Matt squeezed her hand. “Nick seems like a decent guy. He’s not known for publishing speculation.”
“I know,” Bree agreed. “But my family has endured more than enough. I don’t want them dragged into another murder. Maybe I made a mistake accepting the job of sheriff. The position is very public. And there’s a decent chance my father killed those people.”
“Taking the job wasn’t a mistake. You’re a damned good sheriff. But the sooner we solve the case, the sooner the attention on your family history will die down.”
“You’re right. We need to get back to work.” Bree picked up her phone. “I’ll call the ME.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bree waited while her phone rang, one hand resting on the steering wheel.
Dr. Jones answered on the third ring. “Sheriff, I’m glad you called. I just spoke with Sam.”
“I’m going to put you on speaker, Dr. Jones. Matt Flynn is here with me.” Bree set the phone on the console. “We have a probable identity for the female victim based on a former police detective recognizing the bracelet.” Bree gave the ME Jane Parson’s information. “She disappeared in 1990.”
“That matches what the team has found so far,” said Dr. Jones. “This grave has been heavily scavenged, and recent rains might have washed away evidence. Sam’s team is still excavating, and they’ve expanded their ground search to include the recently flooded area. They’ve recovered a belt, the wallet, and an elastic waistband likely associated with the male victim, and remnants of a dress, one high-heeled shoe, and the bracelet from the female. All of these items show several decades of degradation. These are not recent burials.”
“Can Sam estimate the postmortem interval for the victims?” Matt shifted in the passenger seat.
“Yes, but keep in mind these are rough estimates. Laboratory confirmation will take time. On visual inspection, he estimates the PMI for both victims to be between twenty and forty years. He will conduct tests to confirm these estimates, but I’ve worked with Sam before. He’s rarely wrong.”
Bree said, “So 1990 would match Sam’s estimation?”
“Yes,” Dr. Jones confirmed. “Now that we have a probable identification of the female, we’ll attempt to confirm with dental records or DNA.”
“What about the additional compaction site the anthropology team was excavating?” Bree asked. Maybe there were even more bodies in the clearing.
“Those remains are canine,” Dr. Jones answered.
Bree closed her eyes for one split second. The dog. Then she shook her head to block the memory. “Any idea when the excavation will be complete?”
“Tomorrow morning, I think,” Dr. Jones said.
“Thank you.” Bree ended the call. “We need to regroup with this new information.” She put the SUV in gear and headed back toward the station.
“Bree.”
Bree glanced over. “What?”
“It’s late.”
She glanced at the dashboard clock. “It’s only six forty-five.”
Matt gave her a look.
“You’re right,” she said. “I should go home. Dana is holding dinner until Luke gets home from a friend’s house. I should be there to eat with them.” She called Todd.
Her chief deputy answered on the first ring. “Harvey.”
Bree asked him to assign a deputy to dig up any and all information on Jane Parson. “It sounds like the Scarlet Falls PD conducted a thorough investigation. See if you can get ahold of their records. Get whatever other personal information you can as well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Todd said before he ended the call.
Matt shot Bree a look. “You’re going to work after Kayla goes to bed, aren’t you?”
Yes. “Maybe a little. I’ll review the reports Sharp gave us. Other than that, we don’t have that much information yet.” She smiled at him. “Do you want to have dinner with us? Dana always cooks enough for three families, and the kids would love to see you.”
He tilted his head and gave her a cocky grin. “What’s she making?”
Bree dictated a text. Dana answered in a few seconds. The digitized voice said, “Shrimp and lemon risotto.”
“With garlic bread?” Matt asked.
Bree shook her head. “Of course with garlic bread, and probably some kind of homemade dessert. This is Dana we’re talking about.”
“Then I’m in.” Matt patted his washboard abs. “I could use the calories.”
Bree voice-texted Dana again, then tugged at her own snug waistband. She needed to run more. Riding was fun, but it didn’t burn the same number of calories. Or she could eat fewer scones. Who was she kidding? Dana’s scones were irresistible. Bree would have to add some miles to her weekly workout routine or buy bigger uniform pants.
She dropped off Matt at the sheriff’s station so he could stop home and feed his dogs.
A short while later, Bree pulled into her own driveway. The barn doors were open. Through the windshield she could see Luke mucking stalls. He pushed the wheelbarrow to the manure pile and dumped it. Kayla followed him in and out of the barn, her lips moving constantly, no doubt chattering nonstop. In the background, yellow wildflowers dotted the green of the pasture. Ladybug chased a squirrel to the base of a tree and sat, focused on the branches over her head. Luke patted his leg, and the dog ran to his side.
Bree let the peace of the scene wash over her. The tension of the day eased, sliding off her shoulders.
The previous summer, she never would have predicted this would be her life. Now that it was, she loved it so much, she almost felt guilty. This was the life Erin had made for herself. Her sister hadn’t always made good choices, but building a homelife for her family was something she’d done very, very well.
Bree grabbed her briefcase, making sure it was securely closed, and stepped out of her SUV. She didn’t want either kid to see any of the photos inside. Ladybug raced across the lawn. Bree braced herself so the dog didn’t knock her flat. Ladybug loved hard. After an enthusiastic greeting, the dog pranced at her side as she jogged up the back-porch steps. She shed her boots on the tray at the back door. She hadn’t lived on a farm since she was a kid, but the habit of not tracking muck into the house
had returned immediately. Bree stopped to wash her hands at the kitchen sink.
Dana looked up from stirring a pot on the stove. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”
The dog sat at attention at Dana’s feet, watching her cook. Bree went to her office and locked the files in her desk drawer. Then she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, took a quick shower, and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. She put her duty belt out of reach on the top shelf in the closet and locked her sidearm in its gun vault. But she restrapped her backup piece to her ankle. With the way her life had changed over the past six months, she liked to be armed at all times.
Downstairs, Dana was slicing a loaf of Italian bread.
“How was the day?” Bree plucked a piece of bread off the cutting board.
“Good. Kayla cleaned tack most of the day. Then we went to the craft store for ribbon she wanted for Cowboy’s mane. Good luck with that.” Dana lifted the board. Using the blade, she scraped the sliced bread into a basket.
“I’ll be praying to the gods of YouTube tonight.” Bree poured some olive oil into a shallow dish and dipped her bread.
“Then we stopped at the library. Kayla checked out a joke book.” Dana pointed to a stack of cookbooks on the counter with the knife. “I’ve been wanting to perfect a basic chocolate cake.”
The book on the top of the stack had a cake the size of a barn on the cover.
Bree’s waistband felt tighter. She stared at the bread in her hand and ate it anyway.
“Fair warning, though,” Dana said. “Her excitement has reached an all-time high.”
“Good.” Bree smiled. “The horse show is the first event she’s been excited about since Erin died.”
“I know. Watch the risotto. I’ll be right back.” Dana wiped her hands on a dish towel draped over her shoulder and left the kitchen.
“Watch it do what?” Bree crossed the room and peered into the pot.
“Just don’t let it burn!” Dana yelled from the other room.
“You’re going to have to be more specific!” Bree called back.
Matt knocked on the door and entered the kitchen. He’d changed his clothes, and his hair was damp. He walked closer and leaned over her shoulder. “That smells good.”
Bree turned her head and kissed him. “So do you.”
He kissed her back. “I like off-duty Bree.” He lifted a hand. “Though I totally understand why Sheriff Taggert can’t kiss me in uniform.”
“She wishes she could,” Bree said.
“It would be hot.” He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling.
Dana walked in. “Hi, Matt.”
“Hey, Dana.” Matt backed up a step and plucked a piece of bread from the basket.
Dana nudged Bree away from the stove, where she wasn’t being very useful anyway.
“Why don’t you call the kids?” Dana asked.
Bree headed for the back door. After opening it, she called their names. A minute later, Kayla raced up the back-porch steps. Luke followed. They washed their hands and dropped into chairs at the table. Ladybug drank her entire bowl of water and flopped down under Kayla’s chair, ever hopeful for stray crumbs.
Dana’s shrimp risotto was full of garlic, lemon, and butter. Bree mentally added two more miles to her morning run. At this rate, she’d be running all the way to Philadelphia.
Kayla bounced in her seat. “We got red, white, and blue ribbons for Cowboy’s mane. He’s going to look so pretty.” She clapped her hands together. “Maddie’s mom said Mommy would be watching from heaven. I want her to see Cowboy looking beautiful. You’re going to wear your fancy sheriff hat, right, Aunt Bree?”
Grief welled in Bree’s throat, and her risotto turned to sawdust. She cleared her throat and drank some water. “Of course.” Her face felt like it was going to crack, but she smiled anyway. Kayla was talking about her mother without getting sad. Bree would not ruin it, but she spotted a tear in the corner of Luke’s eye too.
A minute of silence passed.
Luke cleared his throat. “Kayla. Tell them those jokes you told me in the barn.”
“I got a joke book at the library today.” She grinned and zeroed in on Matt. “Matt, why didn’t the teddy bear finish her dinner?”
“I don’t know, why not?” Matt asked.
“Because she was stuffed.” Kayla giggled.
Matt leaned closer to her. “How do you make a tissue dance?”
“How?” Kayla asked.
Matt grinned. “Put a little boogie in it.”
Kayla exploded into laughter.
They told corny jokes back and forth for the rest of dinner. Then Luke retreated to his room, and Kayla went upstairs to get ready for bed. Bree was clearing the table when her phone buzzed. “It’s the ME.”
Matt followed her as she took the phone into her office and pressed “Answer.” “Sheriff Taggert.”
“This is Dr. Jones,” the ME began. “Jane Parson’s dental records were on file. They’re a match, so her ID is official. There aren’t any dental records or DNA on file for Frank Evans, but his case details match. We’re going to issue a presumptive ID. Do you want to perform the next-of-kin notification?”
“Yes,” Bree said.
“We’ll need a family member to submit DNA. Then we can run a familial match.”
“I’ll do the death notifications in the morning.” Bree ended the call and relayed the details to Matt. Then she unlocked her desk drawer and removed her files.
Matt said, “They both went missing in June 1990.”
“Yes.” Bree tossed files onto her desk. “We need to establish if they knew each other.”
“Agreed.” He stroked his beard. “Shawn is our only living suspect.”
“He was eighteen in 1990. That’s old enough to have killed them.” Bree lifted the file Sharp had given them earlier, and they spent the next hour reviewing his reports.
Rubbing his eye, Matt set down the page he was reading. “We need the main case file, but Sharp’s reports don’t indicate any foul play.” He closed the file.
“But we have the advantage of knowing she was murdered and having a second victim to work with.” Bree took a legal pad from her top drawer and started a list.
“What’s your schedule tomorrow?” Matt asked.
“We’ll do death notifications and question both victims’ next of kin in the morning. In the afternoon, I’m helping Kayla get the horses ready for the fair.”
Matt picked up the top file on Bree’s desk. “What’s this?”
“Those are my father’s criminal records.”
Matt just stared at her for a minute.
“I remember him being arrested at least once,” she said. “But I haven’t looked at his file yet.”
Matt opened it. “He was arrested a few times. Do you want the details?”
“Yes.” Bree didn’t fear her father’s criminal record. But the murder file beneath it was intimidating as hell.
Matt flipped pages. “B and E, burglary, simple assault, unlawful possession of a firearm. He served six months in jail for the burglary when you were a baby.”
“Not a surprise.”
“His file is thin.” He set it on her desk. His hand paused over the second, much thicker file. “What’s this?”
“Nothing.” She reached for it, but she wasn’t fast enough.
He picked it up and read the tab. “Bree, is this your parents’ case file?”
“Yes.”
“Have you looked at it?”
She shook her head.
“Good. Don’t.”
“There could be valuable information in there,” Bree protested.
Matt walked around the desk and perched a hip on its surface, facing her. “You trust me, right?”
“I do.” That fact still surprised her. They’d barely been dating for a couple of months, and Bree did not trust easily. Her childhood had taught her she could depend on only herself, and that the people you loved had the potential to hurt you the
most.
“Then I’ll take this with me.” He set the file on the other side of the desk. “If there’s anything relevant inside, I’ll let you know.”
“But—”
“But what?” he challenged. “There’s no reason you need to see what’s in there. It’s not reasonable for anyone to expect that of you.” He reached forward and took her hands in his. “And it’s not healthy.”
“To look away feels . . .” She searched for the word. “Cowardly.”
“Cowardly?” His eyes studied hers, and as always, it felt as if he could see right into her soul. “You’re braver than anyone I know.” He stopped her before she could argue. “But this is needless. You’re too close to effectively evaluate the information. You’ll see it through the filter of your own experience.”
She swallowed her protest.
Matt continued. “And if you can’t effectively evaluate the information, what’s the point in tormenting yourself? There are some things once seen that cannot be unseen.”
“My father could be our killer.” Conflicted, she sighed. “I still feel like I’m passing the buck.”
Matt shook his head. “You’re delegating.”
“I don’t like that word.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I know you don’t, but you’re not a detective in charge of a case anymore. You’re the sheriff. You have too many responsibilities to do everything yourself. You’re the boss. Bosses delegate.”
“You’re right,” she admitted. As much as she hated to give up control, part of her was relieved. She didn’t know how she would handle photos of her dead parents. Her memories of her mother were tainted enough.
Matt grinned, and his blue eyes shone. He pulled her to her feet, then tugged her closer until she stood between his thighs. With him perched on the edge of her desk, their faces were nearly level. Bree leaned into his chest and pressed her forehead to his. He released her hands and wrapped his arms around her. He was solid and strong, and for a long minute, she let herself accept his comfort.
She lifted her head and studied his face. His eyes were dark with intensity.
“I’m not used to having someone to lean on,” she said. Ironically, having support made her feel stronger. She’d expected the opposite.
Right Behind Her (Bree Taggert) Page 11