Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Janey
The smells of coffee and something deliciously sugary greet me when I walk into the kitchen.
Like me, JD is an early riser and was already in the shower when I woke up. Now he’s standing at my stove, a big frying pan on the burner in front of him.
“Is that fry bread?” I ask, spotting the large disks of fried dough arranged on a few layers of paper towel on my counter. My mouth instantly waters.
“Ma used to make this on special occasions,” JD says, flashing a smile over his shoulder. “Hardly nutritious. Basically carbs, fat, and sugar, which is why we only got this on birthdays or holidays.”
I poke at one of the pieces and come away with a finger covered in sugar and cinnamon I quickly pop in my mouth.
“What’s the special occasion today?”
I brace myself against the kitchen counter, facing him. He leans over and drops a sweet kiss on my lips.
“I can think of a few things,” he shares, his eyes warm on my face before he returns his focus to the pan. “Simply waking up to you is cause enough for celebration, but I’m also just glad the dust is settling and we can focus on what’s happening with us.”
He says he doesn’t have a way with words, but I sure like the things he’s saying. I brush his cheek with a kiss.
“Why don’t I get us set up with some coffee,” I offer, as he lifts the final piece of dough from the pan and turns off the burner.
While I fix us a couple of mugs, JD grabs two plates and loads up the fried pastry. Then we sit down at the kitchen table.
“This looks delicious.”
I pick up a piece and sink my teeth into the sweet, crispy dough. Unfortunately, that is the moment I glance to the front window and see a black SUV pulling up in front of the house. A sheriff’s cruiser is right behind it.
“We’ve got company,” I mumble around the bite in my mouth.
I’m already on my feet when JD swings around and catches wind of what’s going on. I have the front door open when Special Agent Kramer and Sheriff Ewing walk up.
“Sorry for the early hour,” Stephanie apologizes.
“We were up.” I step to the side to let them in, noticing the serious expression they’re both wearing. “Did something happen?”
JD, who followed me to the front door, wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me to his side.
“Sheriff Ewing has requested my assistance on the murder cases of Maggie Aldridge, Jennifer Wilson, and Lacey Del Franco,” the FBI agent clarifies. “There have been some new developments, which is why we’re here.”
“I’m not sure how much help I can be,” I offer. “I only met Lacey briefly and I didn’t know the other two women.”
“There’s another woman missing,” Sheriff Ewing informs us.
“Another one?”
He nods at me, before looking at JD. “Britt Jensen.”
I feel JD’s body go rigid beside me.
“She’s a waitress and disappeared in the middle of her shift at Foxy’s Bar last night,” Stephanie fills in.
Foxy’s Bar?
Britt.
I immediately have a vision of the pretty brunette server hopping up in JD’s arms. Hard to believe that was just a little over a month ago. It feels a lot longer, so much has happened. So much has changed.
“Britt?” he echoes, clearly stunned.
“Her purse was still behind the bar and her car parked in the parking lot,” the agent continues. “She was seen slipping out the back around eleven, presumably for a smoke, but never returned. It was busy last night, but no one saw a thing.”
“You know her?” Ewing addresses JD.
“I do,” he admits, and I instinctively slip an arm around his waist, holding on tight.
“We were told you’re seeing each other.”
“ Were ,” JD clips. “And seeing each other implies a relationship, which it never was. We’d hooked up a few times, that’s all. And that was a while ago.”
“Are you sure?” the agent questions, taking over for Sheriff Ewing. “The bartender saw you two kissing just last month.”
“She was kissing me,” he argues. “There’s a difference.”
My head is spinning, trying to keep up with what is happening. Are they seriously suspecting JD? That’s ridiculous.
“Look,” I interrupt, positioning myself in front of JD. “I don’t know what you are getting at, but he was with me. All night. You are barking up the wrong tree. He had nothing to do with her disappearance.”
The look I get from Stephanie is one of pity, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Are you positive he couldn’t have slipped out at some point during the night?”
“One-hundred-percent,” I snap back. Then I look from the agent to Ewing. “I can’t believe you would even entertain something so ridiculous.”
“We went by the trailer this morning,” the sheriff volunteers, looking at JD over my shoulder. “To ask you a few questions. See if maybe you’d seen or heard anything.”
“I stopped by my place after work to pick up a few things before I came here, but that was before six last night.”
Stephanie Kramer pulls a plastic baggie from her pocket with an empty vial inside. One I recognize immediately.
“Then perhaps you can explain how this ended up next to your front steps?”
“What is that?” JD asks.
“Ketamine,” I whisper, as my mind spins.
JD
“Maggie Aldridge, Jennifer Wilson, and Lacey Del Franco all had ketamine in their system. Lacey Del Franco also had the broken needle of a syringe embedded in her neck,” Ewing explains.
A cold fist squeezes my chest. I hear the words, but I’m having trouble processing them.
“You happened to be the one to find two out of the three known victims, and are intimately familiar with a possible fourth. We found the empty vial of ketamine at your trailer. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Doc Richards, and would’ve had relatively easy access to the drug. All of it is pointing to you. Unless you have some explanation?” Stephanie Kramer lays it out in a gentler tone.
It’s like my mouth is glued shut. It feels like a noose tightening around my neck, even though I had absolutely nothing to do with this.
“Are his fingerprints on the vial?” Janey asks sharply.
“No fingerprints,” Ewing admits before adding, “but he could’ve worn gloves.”
“Careful enough to wear gloves, only to toss the vial in his front yard? This is such bullshit!” Janey reacts forcefully. “And the worst part is, you both know it. I can see it in your faces. You can’t possibly believe what you’re suggesting.”
Stephanie puts up her hands. “We’re not suggesting anything. We’re investigating leads, and at this point what we have is leading us here.”
“He’s being set up,” Janey protests. “Surely you can see that.”
Feeling crowded in the small hallway, I slip out from behind Janey, turn my back on the group, and walk into the living room. The pressure on my chest releases a bit and I’m able to take in a deep breath.
“Do you have any enemies?” I hear Stephanie ask behind me.
I turn to face her.
“I would’ve said no prior to last week, but I know Phil Jericho didn’t like me around Janey. He wasn’t exactly a fan,” I suggest. “The only problem with Jericho is that I doubt he knew of my existence prior to the rodeo and, by that time, the first two victims were already dead. Plus, he’s in custody, so he couldn’t have been responsible for Britt’s disappearance.”
“Maybe he has someone helping him?” Janey proposes, sidling up to me.
She’s reaching, even as she anchors herself to my side. I’m not sure whether it’s for her benefit or mine, but I’m grateful for the unconditional support.
“Considering Jericho for these murders is a bit of a stretch,” Stephanie Kramer states. “First of all, he’s too smart. I can’t see him risk drawing that kind of negative attention to the rodeo. He’s got too much invested in his drug trafficking operation to jeopardize it by drawing in law enforcement. And that’s aside from the fact the first two victims were found prior and weren’t related to the event in any way.”
No matter how hard I think about it, I can’t imagine anyone hating me enough to try and frame me for murder.
“What if it isn’t something personal at all?” I suggest. “And I was simply a convenient scapegoat?”
It’s clear my suggestion is met with some doubt, but I push on.
“What if the reason someone hit me over the head when I was poking around the trailers the day of the auction had nothing to do with the drugs? The timing could work with Lacey Del Franco’s disappearance, unless you have witnesses who saw her that Thursday night.”
I catch a glance exchanged between Ewing and the agent, before he faces me.
“Last time anyone saw her was before the auction,” he admits. “Okay, let’s assume you almost stumbled onto something and our perp panicked, hit you over the head, and took off. The issue I have with that is, the attack on you was witnessed by an agent, and law enforcement was on high alert instantly. If anything illegal was going on in that parking lot, we would’ve found it.”
“Unless…it wasn’t so much about what JD might see, but who ,” Stephanie contributes. “Someone who would’ve stood out, who was out of place.”
“Who wasn’t where they were supposed to be,” Ewing fills in.
It would have to have been someone I know. I immediately try to think of who that might be, but those options are endless. I live in this town—I do my groceries here, work here, get my hair cut—I interact with people on a daily basis who would recognize me. It could’ve been anyone.
A phone rings, and Stephanie reaches for her pocket.
“Excuse me a minute,” she indicates, walking toward the front door and stepping outside.
“Hey,” Ewing gets my attention, “We’re doing our job. Not an easy job and even harder when you have to look at people you know and like. Three women are dead, maybe four, and we can’t afford to dismiss any leads, just because we think you’re a good guy. Gotta follow the evidence.”
I nod. I get what he’s saying, even though it doesn’t make being on this side of the equation any more comfortable.
I don’t get a chance to respond when Stephanie comes barging in, her eyes on the sheriff.
“That was Agent Furstner, I’ve gotta get back to Kalispell. Jericho has asked to talk to me, claims he has information on the murders. He wants to make a deal.”
“Of course he does,” Ewing replies. “Do you believe him?”
The agent shrugs. “I don’t know, he may be yanking my chain, but I won’t know for sure until I talk to him. You’ve got things handled here?”
Ewing nods. “Call me with any updates.”
“Same goes,” she answers him before turning to me.
She opens her mouth to say something but appears to change her mind, shaking her head. Then she raises her hand before turning on her heel and heading out the door.
When she’s gone, I turn to Ewing.
“Is anybody looking for Britt?”
My tone may be a bit sharp, but the past half hour has been a fucking roller coaster and he’s lucky I’m hanging onto my temper. If not for Janey grounding me, I’d have lost it a while ago.
“Of course,” he returns defensively. “I have deputies crawling all over the bar and surrounding area.”
“Did you call Jonas?”
“I plan to, after I’m done here.”
He removes his hat and runs a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the past few weeks.
As sheriff of Lincoln County, I know the man is stretched thin as it is. Especially since the Libby Police Department—which was a tiny department to begin with—has become virtually nonexistent in recent years. It’s all on Ewing’s shoulders, and the sheriff’s department isn’t really equipped to handle crimes like drug trafficking or the murders of those women. Even more so now, with his only detective—Dan’s wife, Sloane— on bed rest and about to pop a baby.
“I’ll get the guys together,” I offer, knowing the best chance Britt has is for the High Mountain Trackers team to get out there as soon as possible.
That is, if she’s still alive.
He rubs his face and squeezes the bridge of his nose, apparently struggling to make a decision.
“Divide and conquer,” I add when he takes too long to respond.
“Fine,” he finally agrees. “Get the team ready, meet up with Deputy Bastian at the bar, and I’ll join you when I’m done here.”
I turn to Janey—who has been pretty quiet since her passionate defense of me—and cup her face.
“I’ll be in touch,” I promise, dropping a kiss on her lips. “Be careful.”
She nods. “Go. Find her.”