Chapter 4 Luke #2
Most Montanans knew to stay back from the water. Tourists were usually the sort who’d get themselves into a mess.
We didn’t get a ton of visitors in the summer, nothing like other areas of Montana, but we’d see an influx of activity. Strange faces. Out-of-state cars.
It would be harder to identify a Warrior if one came to town. Maybe instead of one more week, I could convince Scarlett to last two.
A knock sounded behind me. “Chief.”
I turned from the glass, Chuck at my door. “Hey. What’d you find?”
“Not much. Ken Raymond was clean as a whistle. No record. Not so much as a parking ticket.”
That was a good thing. It meant the chance that he was connected to the Warriors was low. “Did you notify next of kin?”
He nodded, his eyes somber. “Called the Ashton station. Had them send a squad car over and notify his wife. Then I called to follow up and give my condolences while you were out.”
Chuck was a long-time cop in Clifton Forge.
We’d been colleagues much longer than I’d been his boss.
Hell, he’d taught me a lot. And when I’d been appointed chief of police, he’d been the first to congratulate me and offer his support.
He loved his job and keeping the town’s people safe.
He was also looking forward to retirement in two years, three months and twelve days—he had a countdown calendar on his desk.
He reminded me of my dad in that way. Dad had a countdown too. And even though retirement approached, Chuck was as diligent about his duties as he’d been for years.
“What did the wife say?”
“Not much.” Chuck sighed. “She was pretty shaken up. The officer in Ashton told her that her husband’s body had been found, asked if she’d be willing to identify the body.
When I called and told her who I was, she started crying and that was about it.
I’ll give her some time and drive over to talk in person. ”
“Damn.” It was hard to be the man who delivered heartbreaking news. “Sorry.”
He nodded. “ETA on the autopsy?”
“Mike didn’t think long. But I want to know what he was doing in Clifton Forge. Why he came here from Ashton. Let’s be sensitive to Ms. Raymond’s grief, but we need answers, sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll drive over first thing tomorrow morning. Check in. Gauge the situation. Go from there.”
“Appreciate it. You’re the lead on this. Holler if you need anything.”
“Will do.” Chuck backed away, returning to his desk in the bullpen.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, wishing my brewing headache a short life.
Stress. I’d had more headaches in the past two weeks than in the past two years.
What I really wanted was to finish up here, go home and shower, then collapse on the couch for a long nap.
I hadn’t slept well for the past week, ever since I’d moved Scarlett into my guest bedroom.
One ear had been trained for any noise from her—an escape attempt.
But she’d been true to her word and stayed.
She was probably wondering where I’d gone. When I’d left this morning, I’d told her I’d be back in an hour. Now the day was spent and when I finally arrived home, it would be time for dinner.
It was for the best. Last weekend, after she’d moved in, I’d given her space. I’d spent more time in my home office than I had in months, working my way through bills and a stack of mail. Then I’d killed hours working in the yard. During the week, after work, I’d done more of the same.
Eventually, I’d get used to having her around. Maybe if she ventured outside of her bedroom for more than five minutes at a time we’d get to know each other. But she was holed up tight, and as long as she didn’t leave, I’d let her be.
We were walking on eggshells, sharing awkward glances and muttered hellos. Maybe tonight, if I picked up a couple cheeseburgers from Stockyard’s, she’d eat with me and we could muddle our way through a conversation.
Maybe eventually, she’d grow to trust me.
I hadn’t pushed Scarlett for more information about her time with Jeremiah and the Warriors. That didn’t mean I wasn’t antsy to know, especially if the Warriors were in any way connected to Ken Raymond’s death, but I was balancing my curiosity against her flight risk.
Should I ask her about Ken Raymond? No. Not yet. I’d leave it alone until Chuck determined if this was an accidental death or a homicide investigation. The last thing I wanted was to spook Scarlett and have to chase her down again.
If she grew comfortable at my place, she’d be less likely to run, right? She’d be more likely to see that I had her best interests at heart.
I finished up my report, then closed down my computer and dialed Stockyard’s, one of the bars in town, and ordered a couple of burgers to go.
Stockyard’s wasn’t the ruckus The Betsy was and catered to an older crowd.
Their burgers were legendary and now that the stench of the morgue was fading, my appetite had returned.
The waitress didn’t question my two-burger order, assuming they were both for me along with a heaping order of fries. I’d just ended the call when another knock sounded at my door.
A woman stood at the threshold, wearing a pair of black slacks and a matching blazer. Her white shirt was starched, the collar crisp and stiff beside her neck. The badge on her hip shone, as did the Glock holstered beside it.
What the hell was a fed doing here?
Chuck peeked over her shoulder, giving me a shrug. He must have escorted her in.
“Chief Rosen.” She walked into my office, hand extended. “Maria Brown.”
“Nice to meet you.” I stood, returning her firm handshake before motioning her to take a seat in a chair across from my own.
“Maria, please.” Before she sat, she took a card from her pocket, handing it over. “I’m with the FBI.”
No shit. I glanced at the card, the words Violent Gang Task Force jumping out beneath her name. Son of a bitch. This was about Scarlett. I’d bet my pension on it.
I stared at Agent Brown, waiting for her to speak.
Maria’s dark hair was pulled into a severe knot. Her brown eyes were warm in color but calculating as she held my stare. She was sizing me up.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“Do you always work on Saturdays?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “A couple of weeks ago, a man committed suicide here after taking two women hostage.”
“I’m aware.”
“One of the women is a person of interest. Scarlett Marks.”
“And why is she so interesting?” I kept my face impassive, though my heart raced. Maria Brown had the upper hand, and if I didn’t keep my wits about me, my bad day would turn into a clusterfuck really fast.
“We believe she has information that might help us on a case.”
I steepled my fingers by my chin. “What case?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details. I hope you understand.”
“Of course.” Cooperation was a two-way street around here. She didn’t get to show up at my door on a Saturday, whip out a business card and get my secrets. Not until she spilled some of her own first. Not until I knew the FBI had Scarlett’s best interests in mind.
Maria continued to stare, waiting for me to speak. Most people did if you waited long enough.
Not me.
“After the hostage incident, you took Ms. Marks into custody, correct?”
“Correct. I placed her in a safe location and had officers assigned to her round the clock.” All of which was documented in our reports. If Agent Brown started asking questions around the station, she’d have this sliver of truth and my team wouldn’t have to lie.
“Where is this safe location?”
“Actually, it was a rental property of mine. It was empty and the quickest solution. She was staying there.”
“Was?”
I nodded. “Was. Ms. Marks decided to leave that location.” Another sliver.
If Agent Brown talked to Nathan or Chuck, they’d know about the events leading up to the grocery store debacle and that I’d brought Scarlett back to the rental house.
But the only person who knew what happened after that was me.
“I didn’t have the manpower to force her to stay. I offered. She refused.”
“Do you happen to know of Ms. Marks’s whereabouts now?” Maria asked.
“I don’t.” Scarlett could be in her bedroom. She could be on the couch watching TV. She could be naked in the shower. I didn’t know of her exact whereabouts and wouldn’t until I got home.
Maria’s eyes narrowed. “Have you spoken to her about the incident at her sister’s home?”
“I have.”
“And?”
“And that’s part of a closed case. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details. I hope you understand.”
A flash of irritation crossed her eyes, having her own words tossed back at her, then her mouth split into a wide grin. “Of course.”
“Sorry I’m not much help.” I stood, holding out my hand.
Maria stayed in her seat, her eyes glued to mine, until finally, she stood and shook my hand once more. “Thank you, Chief. I’ll be in town for a while. Maybe I’ll swing by again soon.”
“Happy to help any way I can, Agent Brown.” It was a lie. We both knew it. But unless she showed up here again with a warrant, I wasn’t talking.
Maybe the FBI could help Scarlett. Or maybe they’d use her as a pawn. I’d been involved in two federal cases in my tenure as a cop, both of which had left a bad taste in my mouth.
I escorted Maria out of my office and through the bullpen, neither of us bothering with small talk or pleasantries. When we left the station, I nodded a curt goodbye on the sidewalk, then strode to my truck and climbed inside.
Calm. Collected. Cool. It was only after she pulled away in a shiny black SUV that I blew out the breath I’d been holding.
What the fuck did the FBI want with Scarlett? Did they think she’d stolen drugs from the Warriors? Did they know she was innocent? Or was there more?
Maria Brown was from the gang task force, not the DEA. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if both divisions were involved here. This had the Warriors’ name written all over it.