Brother's Keeper

by Richard Ryker

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been working on the Dunn murder investigation.”

  “So?” the sheriff said.

  “Do I have your permission to continue with that case, since it is a murder, and uh, it seems I’m supposed to be doing other things.”

  Sheriff Hart squeezed his eyes at Brandon. “Don’t be a smart ass.”

  He slammed the door shut, leaving Brandon in his room like a scolded child.

  Brandon waited a minute, long enough for the sheriff to leave. Sheriff Hart wasn’t the type to mix with the troops, so he knew he wouldn’t find him in the bullpen.

  The sheriff wasn’t in the common area, but Sue, Josiah, and Will were.

  Will sucked on a toothpick, giving Brandon the once-over. Josiah’s gaze avoided Brandon. They’d been listening, waiting to see what would happen to their boss.

  “Well,” Sue asked, swirling the stick in her coffee. “You still have a job, Chief?”

  “Unfortunately for you,” he goaded her.

  “Don’t mind the sheriff,” Will said. “The old fart.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Sue said.

  “Show’s over,” Brandon said. He made a shooing motion. “Get back to work.”

  “You need anything?” Sue asked.

  “Nothing that wouldn’t make it easier for the sheriff to fire me,” Brandon said. “I’ll wait until quitting time.”

  He needed to get out of the office. Do something.

  “I have news about the Dunn case,” Josiah said.

  Brandon waved him in to his office.

  “Mrs. Dunn changed her will about a year ago,” Josiah said.

  “Who’d she leave her money to?”

  “What money? She had just enough to cover burial costs,” Josiah said. “She’d had life insurance from her husband’s death. But she used that to renovate the rental. The bank said she’d applied for a loan but was denied. So she used her savings. That, and according to the neighbor she’d taken a couple of cruises.”

  “What about the property?” Brandon asked.

  “It’s to be sold, and the proceeds given to charity. The will was very specific: Todd Dunn was not to receive a dime from the estate.”

  “You learned all that from the bank?” Brandon asked.

  “I re-interviewed a couple of the neighbors,” he said, lowering his head. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll never object to officers going the extra mile,” Brandon said. “Good work.”

  Todd Dunn had expected to cash in on his aunt’s will, not knowing she was broke. Even if she’d had the life insurance, it couldn’t be more than one or two hundred thousand.

  “Any ideas?” Brandon asked, always looking for an opportunity to teach the young officer the art of detective work.

  “Jackson made a comment about the housekeeper for the rental,” Josiah said.

  She’d blushed when they mentioned Todd, despite the age difference between the two.

  “And?” Brandon asked.

  “Maybe she knows where he is.”

  “Let’s go pay her a visit,” Brandon said.

  Sabina’s Suzuki was parked in the driveway of her duplex, just as it had been when Brandon and Jackson visited her the week before. He knocked on the door. No one answered.

  “Want to leave a card?” Josiah asked.

  “Just because she’s not answering doesn’t mean she’s not here,” Brandon said.

  “We could check the back,” Josiah suggested. “There might be a door or a window and we can see if she’s hiding or maybe in the shower.”

  Brandon rose an eyebrow.

  Josiah rose his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Brandon squeezed Josiah’s shoulder. “It was a joke.”

  A whole generation reared in an environment where everything caused offense. No wonder they didn’t know the difference between sarcasm and seriousness.

  “Oh,” Josiah replied, forcing a chuckle.

  Brandon knocked harder this time. “Sabina Brown. Forks Police Department.”

  The door cracked open. Sabina peeked out, wearing a dark blue bath robe.

  “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Brown. We have a few more questions for you about Mrs. Dunn.”

  In fact, they were there to talk about Todd, but they get to that later.

  “Now is not a good time,” she said, her eastern European accent thicker than before.

  “We can wait,” Brandon said.

  She noticed Josiah for the first time. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” he replied sheepishly.

  She opened the door, letting them through.

  “I was in the shower.”

  Her hair wasn’t wet. She could have been wearing a shower cap, but she didn’t have the look of someone who’d just bathed.

  “Please, sit,” she said.

  She slid into the chair across from them, tugging the robe over her knees. It crept back up as she crossed her legs.

  Josiah did everything he could to avoid gawking at her.

  “How long since you spoke with Todd?” Brandon asked.

  She fiddled with the belt on her robe. “I don’t know.”

  “Try,” Brandon said.

  “Todd is a good man,” she replied.

  “That’s not what I asked, Sabina.”

  “I know. But why are you looking for him? He did not do anything wrong,” she said.

  “That’s why we want to talk to him,” Josiah said, “to make sure. If he’s innocent, there shouldn’t be any trouble.”

  He looked to Brandon for approval. Not exactly the way Brandon would have put it, but close enough.

  “I understand,” she said, standing. “I will let you know if I hear anything from Todd.”

  Brandon remained seated. He wasn’t done asking questions.

  “What is the nature of your relationship with Todd?” Brandon asked.

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Were you…lovers,” Josiah asked. The question was almost comical coming from the twenty-something officer.

  Sabina blushed, deeper than she had the first time they’d mentioned Todd a few days earlier.

  She glared at Brandon. “Your young man here, he needs to know not to ask such personal questions.”

  “I think it’s a good question,” Brandon said.

  He might not have used the word lovers, but it got to the point, and had obviously frazzled Sabina.

  “I am not any man’s lover,” she insisted. “And what I do with my bed is my own business.”

  Brandon considered asking her if she knew about Todd filming guests at the Airbnb. But if her relationship with Todd was what he imagined it was, she’d tip Todd off about their suspicions.

  “Do you know anything about Todd’s inheritance from his aunt?”

  “He did not inherit anything,” Sabina said.

  “If you haven’t seen Todd,” Josiah asked, “how would you know that?”

  She exhaled in frustration. “Everyone knew the old lady wanted to take him off the will.”

  Everyone but Todd, apparently.

  “Do you know why she did?” Brandon asked.

  According to Patti Baldwin, it was because she’d caught him filming residents at the guest house.

  “I have no idea,” she replied. “But it doesn’t mean he can’t inherit her land. Todd is the only Dunn left.”

  So, Todd hadn’t told Sabina that Mrs. Dunn’s new will donated the land and any proceeds to charity.

  Brandon stood. Josiah followed suit.

  “Here’s my number,” Brandon said, handing her a business card. The one Jackson had left during their last visit still sat on the mantle.

  “Yes. I will call if I hear from Todd.”

  Her eyes flitted to the hallway behind her and to the left.

  Josiah glanced at Brandon.

  “You mind if I use the bathroom?” Josiah asked.

  “No. I mean,
no, I do mind. It is very dirty,” she replied.

  Josiah waited for Brandon’s direction. There was a chance Todd was back there. But without her consent, they couldn’t search based on a denial to use her restroom.

  “You just tell Todd, the longer he waits to turn himself in,” Brandon said, his voice loud enough for anyone in the house to hear. “The worse it will be for him. If he really is innocent, he has nothing to worry about.”

  Josiah leaned against Brandon’s SUV, his eyes fixed on Sabina’s front door. “We don’t have enough for a search warrant.”

  “Right about that,” Brandon replied, thinking about Judge Gillman. “Besides, Todd is likely to take off as soon as we’re out of here.”

  “Should I keep an eye on the place?” Josiah asked.

  “Sure,” Brandon said, “But don’t use the cruiser. See about getting one of the city’s unmarked cars.”

  Todd might be gone by the time they got back to the station. But if Sabina was giving him what Brandon thought she was, he’d be back.

  Chapter 18

  Brandon headed out to his dad’s house to check on him. The last time he’d visited, Brandon had discovered a bottle of liquor up in the attic. Not a good sign, considering his dad took pain meds for his recent knee surgery. It wasn’t just the booze that had him worried. He’d found family photos scattered across the attic floor, a sign his father was still obsessing about Eli’s death.

  Brandon’s phone rang as he drove down the long driveway that cut through what used to be a pasture. He stopped in front of his dad’s house and answered.

  It was Will.

  “You want the good news or the bad news,” Will asked.

  “Give me the bad.”

  “Well, it’s just one thing. Both good and bad.”

  “Will you get to the point,” Brandon said. He climbed out of the truck as his dad opened the front door.

  “They found Nygard’s truck,” Will said. “The one Erik Olson had been driving when Alison Nygard jumped out.”

  “Where?”

  “Down by Lake Quinault,” Will answered.

  “And?”

  “That’s it. No sign of Olson. It still had half a tank of gas,” Will said.

  Olson had dumped the truck. A smart move, considering they’d be searching from here to Seattle. He’d had an officer posted outside of Nygard’s encampment for the past couple of days. But Brandon didn’t have the manpower to waste an officer on what was likely a dead lead. If Olson were to return to Nygard, it wouldn’t be in Nygard’s truck, and not likely through the front door.

  “I want the vehicle processed. Fingerprints, DNA, anything else you find,” Brandon said. Despite his growing confidence that Olson was involved in Eli’s murder, it didn’t mean a thing without his prints to connect him to the receipts and other evidence from the crime scene.

  “I’m on it,” Will said. “You still planning on going out to Nygard’s place? Because you know, there’s a chance Nygard picked this Olson kid up and snuck him back onto the Randall property.”

  Brandon had thought the same thing. Abandoning the truck made it appear Olson had fled the county, or that he might be held up somewhere near Lake Quinault. At least that’s what he wanted them to think.

  Why would Nygard help Olson? It was Olson’s actions that had led Alison, Nygard’s daughter, to jump. In Brandon’s mind, Olson was responsible for her death.

  Nygard would blame Brandon, though, not Olson.

  “We’ll get to Nygard soon enough. The sheriff’s already put me on notice. I’ll let things settle down a bit.”

  Will chuckled. “And then you’ll do the exact opposite of what the big man told you to do?”

  “Exactly.”

  As they ended the call, Brandon faced the house, realizing his father had been just a few feet away.

  “I wasn’t listening,” his dad said.

  Sure, he wasn’t.

  “But what did you find out?”

  “About?” Brandon asked.

  “Eli. Nygard. The case you’re working to solve your brother’s murder.”

  “Still working it, dad. I’m just here to check in on you,” Brandon said.

  “Why’s the sheriff sticking his nose in Eli’s case?” his dad asked. “His department’s the one that screwed it up the first time.”

  He’d heard the entire conversation.

  “That’s his job,” Brandon said. “And from his point of view, I’m the one interfering.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You want to go inside?” Brandon asked. Gray clouds had gathered on the horizon, a cool ocean breeze sweeping away the brief glint of sun they’d enjoyed earlier that morning.

  “I’m fine,” his father said, leaning on his cane. “When are you going to arrest that son-of-a-bitch Nygard? He’s part of this. You know it.”

  “His daughter just died this morning. And there’s no new evidence I have to implicate him—”

  “Died? How?”

  “Injuries from jumping out of the truck she’d been riding in with Erik Olson. I thought you’d heard about that.”

  He shifted his cane to the other hand. “Got what she deserved.”

  The bitterness of his tone cut at Brandon. Did he feel the same way? Maybe, but hearing the words made it sound all the more cold and unforgiving. Was that what they’d become, bloodthirsty survivors out for revenge?

  Brandon didn’t have that luxury. He was a cop.

  “She was his daughter,” Brandon said, knowing the statement wouldn’t assuage his father’s rage.

  “And Eli was my son,” he said. “And she killed him or was at least a partner in his murder.”

  “I’ve told you, Brandon. Nygard knows something. The girl’s gone. That leaves Nygard and this Olson kid. We’ve got to nab them before they disappear for good.”

  “I’m a police officer. That means I follow the law. And if I want someone to pay for a crime they’ve committed, I need evidence. Solid, indisputable evidence.”

  His dad lowered his head. “I’m getting too old for this. If I can’t watch them hang…”

  A sob caught in his throat. He shook his head, straightened his back.

  “Dammit, son. If you can’t do anything, and maybe it’s not your fault, I get that, then I will.”

  “You keep talking like that and I will have to do something about it,” Brandon said.

  “You threatening to steal my guns again? Throw me in jail for defending my family?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with protecting your family. But going after people…”

  “Then do your damn job,” he said.

  With that, he turned and stiff legged it up the stairs to the front door, slamming it behind him without looking back.

  Brandon considered going after his father. He could remind him what he’d already done, how much time he’d spent on Eli’s case, even to the point of risking his job. He was trying his hardest.

  But wasn’t that what he’d been doing his whole life—trying to prove himself to his father. He twisted around, his boots digging into the gravel driveway with a loud crunch.

  He didn’t have time to prove himself to anyone, much less his father.

  ***

  Back at the office, Brandon clicked on an email Margot had sent earlier that day. She wanted to talk about the Dunn case. Specifically, whether her client was free to leave town for the upcoming weekend. Patti Baldwin was a suspect in Mrs. Dunn’s murder, but technically he couldn’t keep her from leaving. Margot knew that. If Jackson weren’t in Florida taking care of her dad, he’d have forwarded the email to her and had her follow up.

  He called the personal cell she’d left him in the email.

  “Brandon?” Margot answered.

  He wasn’t sure how she felt about her calling him by his first name in this context.

  “How long does Patti want to be gone for and where will she be if we need to reach her?” he asked.

  “She’ll be visiting her mo
m for the weekend. Down in South Bend.”

  That was about three hours away. “And we can contact you if we need to get ahold of her?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Sounds good.” He moved to hang up.

  “Wait,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I was thinking about the investigation.”

  “Is this on or off the record?” Brandon asked. “Because if you’re about to tell me something that might incriminate your client—”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” she said, “Don’t be daft.”

  He suppressed a chuckle at the insult.

  “I’m talking about Eli.”

  “I’m off the case,” Brandon said. “Sheriff’s orders.”

  The fewer people that knew about his involvement, the better.

  “Right. But we both know you won’t listen to him.”

  Brandon paused, unsure how to respond.

  “I grew up watching you. I probably know more about you than you imagine.”

  “Oh, you mean because you had a crush on me,” he said.

  “Funny. Anyway, Nygard lives out on the property where the old mill is.”

  “How did you know that?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

  It did matter. Brandon had suffered leaks regarding investigations in his office before. Earlier in the year he’d fired one of his most experienced officers for, among other offences, spilling information to others outside the department.

  But his investigation into Eli’s homicide wasn’t official department business. Only his most trusted officers, Jackson and Will, knew about his involvement.

  “Why the offer to help?” Brandon asked.

  “You were always good to Mark. He didn’t have many friends, and you were the best one he had. It’s not right that the sheriff hasn’t done everything to solve Eli’s case. We can do this, with or without their help.”

  Her insistent tone reminded Brandon just how competitive Margot had always been. Even as a teen, she’d imposed her win-at-all-costs approach on any game Mark had let her join. Brandon had been on the losing end of her brutal competitiveness more than a handful of times.

  “Okay, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get mixed up in this,” he said. “I’m already on thin ice with the sheriff. Not to mention Judge Gillman.”