Chapter 3 #2
The crime-scene tech opened a kit and had her place both palms on a tacky sheet of paper. “That’s all I need. Thank you.”
“Sure, no problem.”
But it was a problem. A huge problem. She glanced over and noticed the detective staring at her. What was with him, and why did he think she was the guilty party? Stephen’s sweet housekeeper didn’t deserve to be murdered. It had nothing to do with her.
And where was Stephen, anyway?
Ethan sat in front of his laptop, not quite sure what to make of his meeting with Howard. He scanned the list of therapist names and shoved away the offending piece of paper.
“This is a load of…manure.” He really wanted to swear at the paper. At the names, at the world in general. But swearing never solved any problem, big or small.
Help, Lord. Get a handle on my temper.
He got up and paced his office in front of the open door—wanting so much to go back and confront Howard, and yet, at the same time, he knew he needed to lay low, play it cool.
During his conversation with Carlsson, they’d both agreed that this was the best course of action. For now. Right up until the time when he could spring his information on the individuals who were members of the syndicate.
Stress, high anxiety, and danger were all part of being a marshal. It was something he’d lived with for a lot of years. It wasn’t like he needed a therapist to help him.
He knew how to do his job.
“You won’t believe what happened to me this afternoon!
” Aubrey’s voice seemed to infiltrate the office halls.
Normally, she was the glue that held the office together, not the one causing a stir.
She was the one who soothed and calmed scared individuals who had been relocated here after entering WITSEC for the first time.
Now, though, a cabinet drawer slammed shut, along with an office door. The sound of one excited voice in the lobby area of the Marshals office drew Ethan’s attention away from his work.
He strode back to his desk and pushed the laptop closed. Conflicting evidence still bothered him, but he’d have to look at it later, when he wasn’t so distracted.
The outrage in Aubrey’s voice yanked his attention off the case file faster than any alarm. “…and then they took my fingerprints, Emma. Like I’m the one who killed that poor woman!”
He stepped into the reception area and saw half the office clustered around Aubrey’s workstation. She sat behind her desk, dark-rimmed glasses a sharp contrast to all that deep-auburn hair cascading down her back.
Deputy Marshal Jodi Glover propped a hip on the corner of her desk, arms folded, expression dark.
Deputy Marshal Emma Kennedy, fresh from court security, still in her blazer with her badge clipped to her lapel, leaned over the reception desk, eyes wide.
Deputy Marshal Nick Stanton, former military sniper, hovered at the edge of the group, massive shoulders blocking part of the aisle, jaw set in that permanent don’t-mess-with-my-people line.
“Can you believe it?” Aubrey sat at her desk, gesturing wildly with her free hand. “They marched me right past the bullpen. Everyone staring at me like I was wearing handcuffs.”
Ethan stood just out of line of sight and listened. He eased closer, keeping to the wall. He shouldn’t be listening to her conversation with someone else—again—but as soon as Aubrey mentioned a dead body and fingerprints, that raised his curiosity. Raised all his instincts, if he was honest.
Perhaps if he hadn’t been so intent on proving he didn’t need anyone and pushing away all the suspects in the office, Aubrey might actually confide in him. But that required a level of friendliness he hadn’t practiced in a long time.
Emma’s voice drifted over the low hum of the office. “They actually booked you into the system?”
Aubrey exhaled hard. “I know it’s procedure, but that detective—grrr. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”
Jodi muttered, “Name and badge number, and I’ll give Internal Affairs a piece of my mind.”
Nick said nothing. He just planted his feet behind Aubrey’s chair like a silent sentry, arms folded over his chest. His gaze flicked to the door, then the windows, then the elevator, a slow, practiced scan that said the soldier in him never really shut off.
Ethan leaned against the doorjamb with his arms crossed. “Don’t give away too much of that mind of yours.” He pitched his voice just loud enough to carry. “We need it here in the office.”
She shrieked and practically launched out of her chair.
Emma jumped. Nick’s only reaction was a slight tightening at the corners of his eyes, like he’d just recalculated Ethan’s threat level from annoying to mildly irritating.
Aubrey closed her eyes for a beat, then fixed her gaze on him. “What are you doing sneaking up on me like that, Deputy Marshal Butler?” Her voice was a low hiss.
He stepped in, closer than he probably should have, and he had to give her credit—she didn’t retreat an inch. “I could hear your conversation all the way down the hall.” He kept his tone dry. “Some of us have to work, you know.”
“Some of us were detained this afternoon,” she shot back. “So excuse me if I need a minute to vent.”
Emma cleared her throat. “Uh, Aubrey? Maybe call one of us next time before you spontaneously combust.”
“Breathe, Sunshine,” Nick said quietly.
She sucked in a breath. Then another. Her shoulders lowered.
“Better?” Ethan asked, softer this time.
Aubrey nodded once. She reclaimed her chair, grounding herself with a hand on the desktop. “Thanks, guys.”
Ethan scanned the circle of faces—Jodi simmering, Emma worried, Nick unreadable as stone—and clapped his palm lightly against the doorframe. “All right, everyone, back to work.”
Emma leaned in and gave Aubrey a quick hug. “Call if you need anything tonight. Okay?”
Aubrey shook out her hands and gave her a tight smile. “Thanks.”
Ethan moved off the doorway toward her, part of him glad she hadn’t broken, part of him wishing he knew how to make her feel safe enough to talk to him.
He held out his hand. “Don’t be mad, but I overheard you saying something about being detained by the police.” He sat on the edge of her desk. “Let me help. Let us help. Start from the beginning and catch me up.”
She propped her chin on her closed fist. “I went out to Judge Mullinax’s house to check on him.”
She looked up at him with those big green eyes of hers, and he was mesmerized by her intensity. Her gaze dropped again as she shuffled a few papers into file folders, but anxiety radiated off her in waves.
Ethan said, “What happened?”
She paused a moment before answering. “I found Stephen’s housekeeper, Mrs. Silano. Dead.”
“I’m sorry.” He wanted to offer some type of comfort but wasn’t sure how much she’d accept from him. Instead, he lightly touched the back of her hand. It was a brief touch, featherlight, not enough to give her the wrong idea about his intentions. Best to keep this professional.
“Thank you.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“After the police showed up, what happened next?”
She inhaled. “Detective Murphy questioned me. Asked me about my relationship with the judge like I’m having some kind of disgusting affair with him.
And then I had to be tested for gunshot residue.
Then they took me downtown and booked me.
Liam had to follow me to the precinct before he could bring me back here, even though it was out of his way. ”
Ethan knew Detective Murphy at the Renegade PD. The man had a reputation. “I’ve had a few run-ins with Murphy.”
“Then you know how he is?”
Ethan nodded. “Let me know if you need any moral support if he comes around. Okay?”
Murphy could be a loose cannon. Always jumping to conclusions. Trying to solve cases in as little time as possible. He was like a bulldozer, running over anyone who got in his path.
She nodded. “Actually, that would be really helpful. Thank you.”
Before he could respond, her computer beeped with an incoming message. She woke the computer with the mouse and opened the IM. “It’s from Liam. He went back out, doing whatever he has going on, after he dropped me off.”
“May I?” He gestured toward the screen.
Aubrey scooted back from the desk, and he read the IM over her shoulder.
Liam
Montgomery got a notification that some kids are reposting a video of a downed aircraft. Here’s the link. Pull it up and begin recording. Tried calling but Butler didn’t answer.
Shoot. He’d left his phone in his office.
Ethan said, “Message Liam back for me.”
She nodded, typing.
Aubrey
Where are you? Ethan is here.
Liam
We’re on the way back to the office.
She clicked on the hyperlink Liam had sent. The link opened a posted video on her computer. Once they’d watched it, he’d have her download and save it.
“Look at that.” She pointed to the screen, at a downed plane in a remote mountain area. Ponderosa pines rose at an angle from the side of the mountain, while jagged boulders covered part of the barren hillside.
A couple of teens, from probably fourteen to seventeen, climbed over the debris field. Multiple pine trees had been snapped in half from the impact. The nose of the plane looked like an accordion. Debris and tree limbs partially hid the open door.
“This was a recent crash, from the look of the branches and the skid pattern on the ground.” Ethan frowned. Where was this? He could barely identify the emblem on the tail. But he knew what that symbol meant.
“Is that what I think it is?” Aubrey asked.
Ethan leaned closer to the screen. “Yeah.” Man, she smelled good. Like sunshine and sweet lemons. But that wasn’t the point right now. “It looks like an old US Marshals symbol.” His hands gripped the back of her office chair. “Send me the link to the video.”
“You got it.”
“Where’s Howard?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. He sent me a message saying he had a working lunch, but he left before I did and hasn’t returned yet.”