Chapter 14
“Nice rod and reel,” Ben said.
It had surprised Scott when the sheriff offered to walk with him around the Point to retrieve his tackle. “Yeah. It’s the one I used when Nick took me fishing when I was a kid. My physical therapist said casting might help me gain accuracy with my left hand.”
Ben winced. “The rehab isn’t working on your right hand?”
He shook his head. The sheriff was one of the few people in town who knew that Scott had been an FBI undercover agent. “After ten weeks of therapy, I’ve probably gotten as much strength and accuracy as I’ll get, and that’s not enough to qualify at the FBI gun range.”
“You’d make a great teacher,” Ben said.
The thought of never going undercover again ratcheted up his anxiety a notch. Being out of the action . . . Scott stiffened. He lived for that action. “I, uh, wouldn’t make a good teacher.”
“I think you’re wrong about that.”
A Jet Ski raced by on the lake, and they both turned toward the water as the wake rippled toward them. A call came in on Ben’s phone, and Scott waited as the sheriff walked a few yards away to answer. It hardly seemed polite to leave until he finished.
Ben pocketed his phone and walked back to Scott, a frown on his face.
“Anything wrong?”
“Could be,” Ben said. “You in a hurry to leave?”
Scott laughed. “I have all the time in the world . . . as long as I make my seven o’clock AA meeting.”
“This won’t take long. I have a favor I’d like to ask.”
Those words rarely preceded anything Scott wanted to do. But Ben was the sheriff and a friend. “I’ll do whatever you need if I can.”
“Good. Hand me your tackle box, and I’ll fill you in when we reach our vehicles.”
They retraced their steps around the Point, then climbed the hill to the lot where Scott’s pickup and Ben’s SUV were parked. “Nice truck,” Ben said. “2018?”
“Yeah. I bought it from a friend.” He glanced at the deep-cherry-red pickup. Actually, from Andy’s family after he died from a gunshot wound that should’ve been Scott’s.
“I’m a little surprised you don’t have a new one.”
The sheriff was also one of the few people in town who knew about the trust fund his grandfather had left him. “This one gets me where I want to go.”
“Gotcha.” Ben handed him the tackle, and Scott stored it in the box attached to the bed. He cocked his head. “What’s the favor?”
“That call was from Wade. He talked with a detective in Knoxville. They haven’t been able to locate Calvin Russell.
He’s six-three, played a season or two in the NFL, and video from a neighbor’s security camera showed someone about his size dousing the side of Tori’s studio.
He also has a late-model gray Dodge Ram registered to him. ”
“So, more than likely, he was the one who fired at us.”
“No way to be sure without a description of the driver or a tag number, but you both said the pickup was a gray Dodge.” Ben rubbed his chin.
“The thing is, Russell isn’t the only enemy Tori has.
She’s a good investigative reporter—she’s dug up dirt on more than one person.
According to what the detective told Wade, a suspicious call came into the podcast last Saturday. ”
Scott had been listening to Dark Deeds Unraveled since he’d been laid up with his shoulder. “I bet I know which call it was. It wasn’t so much what the caller said as how he said it.”
“I usually catch the program,” Ben said, “especially when it’s live, but I missed that episode.”
The podcast had made the major news outlets a few times because of evidence Tori uncovered. During one case, her research unearthed a man with motive, means, and opportunity that the police had missed.
“She’s definitely put a bull’s-eye on her back.
Like I told Tori, she’s a good investigator, and she gets her facts straight.
” Ben rested his hand on his service pistol.
“The thing is, I’m afraid she’ll try to investigate Jenny Tremont’s death, and that may put her in the crosshairs of whoever killed Jenny . . . and at odds with my investigation.”
Scott wasn’t sure where Ben was going with this. “I only know her from the podcasts and for a brief time ten years ago, but I get the impression that once she sets her head to do something, nothing will stop her.”
“Yeah. That’s where you come in. I’d like you to unofficially shadow her.”
“She needs a protector, not a shadow.”
Ben grinned. “You catch on quick.”
Scott shook his head. “You have the wrong man. I can’t use my right hand, and when I fired at whoever attacked us with my left, I didn’t even hit the truck.”
“I get that.” The sheriff shrugged. “But, I don’t have anyone to spare. And seems like she kinda liked you, so maybe you can influence her to keep her nose out of the investigation.”
“Let me get this straight—you want me to go undercover for you to protect Tori without her knowing that’s what I’m doing? And at the same time steer her away from the investigation?”
“That’s about it.” Ben raised his eyebrows. “You up for the challenge?”
Am I? “Sure.” Anything was better than sitting around half the day—there were only so many hours he could spend learning to use his left hand. “But from what she said, I don’t think she’ll be in Logan Point for more than two days.”
“I hope you’re right, but I figure that nephew of hers will change her mind.”
“Do you really think Drew Mitchell could’ve killed Jenny?”
Ben shrugged. “At this point, I honestly don’t know.
I do know he was seen near her house around the time of her death.
He swears he didn’t kill her, and I can’t find a motive to tie him to the case.
He also didn’t appear to be on drugs when I talked to him, but that was a day later, after a witness came forward and put him near the scene of the homicide about the time it happened. ”
Scott nodded. “His dad, Zack, has attended a few of the AA meetings I go to, so the tendency could be there. That said, I’ve seen the kid around town, and I’ve never gotten the sense he’s doing drugs.” Scott chuckled. “I have a sixth sense about those things.”
Ben grinned. “I agree.”
Scott thought a minute. “I’ll call her, but Tori is going to be focused mainly on Drew, so I need a better reason for calling her than to just ask her out for coffee.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“Maybe she’ll settle for my good looks.”
“You wish.”
They both laughed, then Scott sobered. “What can you tell me about the case?”
Ben hesitated. “We’re just starting the investigation . . . in fact, the judge hasn’t even granted a search warrant for Jenny’s bank accounts. I do expect him to rule on a search warrant for Zack’s house sometime today. Unfortunately, at this point, Drew is the only suspect we have.”
Scott turned that over in his mind. “You found his prints in Jenny’s house.”
“Afraid so. The man who saw Drew near Jenny’s house was his baseball coach—that’s why he recognized him.
He intended to ream him out when he saw Drew again for being out so late, but at church, he learned Jenny had been killed and he came forward.
I had Zack bring Drew down to the sheriff’s office Sunday afternoon, offered him a Coke, and got his prints off the can.
They matched prints we found in the house. ”
“But you don’t know when he left them,” Scott pointed out.
“True. The prints don’t mean he killed Jenny, but I want to bring him in for questioning again. Probably tomorrow.”
Scott raised his eyebrows, surprised Ben wasn’t bringing him in today.
“I know what you’re thinking, but he’s not going anywhere. One of my deputies is tailing him, and Drew is staying with Tori’s sister,” Ben said.
Scott knew Tori’s sister. Erin Mitchell owned a cybersecurity company, and Nick had hired her to install an antivirus software security system she’d developed onto his computer. “Why is he staying there?”
“My son TJ says he stays there sometimes, especially when his dad is drinking. They have a lot of blowups.” Ben paused.
“I don’t believe he killed her—the crime scene is too tidy for someone Drew’s age, but I believe he knows something.
His coach said he seemed to be in a panic when he ran in front of him.
I thought if he stewed about it another night, he might share what he knows. ”
“You know teenagers,” Scott said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, well, TJ’s seventeen, same age as Drew, and the two have been friends since TJ came to live in Logan Point.”
That’s right. Scott had almost forgotten that Ben hadn’t met his son until he was almost ten. “How is TJ? I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back.”
“He’s good, staying busy. This is exam week, but his grades have exempted him from finals—Drew as well—they’re both in the running for valedictorian next year.” Ben beamed like any proud daddy.
Scott nodded. “Where’s TJ going to college?”
“Mississippi State University, I hope. Leigh drove him to Starkville this morning to check out my alma mater—even though he has another year, I wanted to get my bid in first.”
He liked Ben’s wife, Leigh. She was a doctor at the local hospital and an all-around kind person. “How about Drew? Do you know what his plans are?”
“He talked about getting a criminal justice degree . . . like TJ, his counselors are talking about a couple of academic scholarships he can apply for. I hope this doesn’t mess up his plans.”
A timer beeped on Scott’s watch, and he glanced at it. Six fifteen. “I have to get ready for the AA meeting.” He opened his door and climbed into the truck. “I’ll let you know how it works out with Tori.”
Scott wasted no time getting home and changing for the meeting.
A little before seven, he climbed into his truck and called Zack Mitchell.
He’d halfway agreed to go to the meeting, and Scott was supposed to pick him up.
The call went to voicemail. Didn’t surprise him.
He’d seen Zack’s car at McKay’s the last few days when he passed by.
But maybe this gave him an excuse to call Tori. The woman was a puzzle. Aloof, honest, and . . . gorgeous. And still had that beautiful smile. In all truthfulness, he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since she left the lake.
He found her number and called it. She answered on the second ring. “Tori, this is Scott Sinclair—”
“I know,” she said. “Has Ben found our shooter?”
Her low dulcet voice intrigued him. He’d noticed it at the lake.
“Scott?”
“Sorry. I got sidetracked. Actually, I’m looking for Zack and wondered if he might be with you?”
“No. Why are you looking for him?”
“He was supposed to go to an AA meeting with me tonight.”
“Oh. Hold on a minute, and I’ll see if anyone here knows where he is.”
Scott heard several voices respond to her question, but he couldn’t make out their answers.
“Drew said to try McKay’s,” she said, her voice sounding troubled when she returned to the phone. “But thanks for trying.”
That was what he’d feared. Scott hesitated. “Any chance you’d like to grab a cup of coffee in about two hours?”
“I, ah . . . sure. Maybe you can fill me in about my brother.”
He wondered if she could sense his smile through the phone. “I’ll pick you up.”
“No, I’ll meet you there.”
“But you don’t know where.”
“There’s only one coffee shop in town unless you count McDonald’s, and I don’t think you have that in mind.”
He laughed. “No. See you at Two Cups.”