CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
C HAPTER T WENTY -S EVEN
Matt scanned the crowd gathered for the press con, looking for troublemakers, but all he saw were the usual news crews. At the front of the room, Madeline Jager settled behind the podium. Bree stood at her side. Her features were locked in a serious-polite expression, but Matt recognized the lines bracketing her mouth. This was not where she wanted to be.
Jager assumed control. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to address the shocking double homicide that rocked our community this week. As you know from previous statements, Josh and Shelly Mason were viciously murdered in their very own bed. Our sheriff’s department has been working tirelessly to solve this brutal crime, and I’m told they are currently investigating several persons of interest. Before I turn the mic over to our esteemed Sheriff Taggert, I’d like to add that Randolph County will be offering a five-thousand-dollar reward to anyone who provides information that leads to the arrest of a suspect in the murders of Josh and Shelly Mason.”
Matt groaned silently. Why? Why do politicians love tip lines and rewards? They usually led to a ton of useless, unrelated calls that took time away from the actual investigation. They rarely provided any real leads.
Clearly, Bree wasn’t happy either. Exasperation flashed across her face for three seconds before she wrestled her features under control. Her eyes briefly met Matt’s—a moment of silent commiseration—before she turned her attention back to the crowd.
Reporters began yelling questions.
“Can you tell us the name of the suspect?”
“Who are you investigating?”
Jager turned to Bree. “I’ll let Sheriff Taggert give you those details.”
Bree stepped up to the podium. “At this moment, I cannot divulge the names of those under investigation. When we have enough evidence to make an arrest, I will let you know.”
“Is the Masons’ killer a threat to the public?” a reporter asked. “Should people be worried?”
Bree leaned over the mic. “Our initial investigation leads us to believe the Masons’ murders were personal in nature.”
“What about the playground shooting?” another man yelled. “Is it true that a suspect you were pursuing opened fire in a residential neighborhood and then got away?”
“Yes. That was the unfortunate outcome of our decision not to return fire and risk civilian lives.” Bree framed her answer with care.
A woman called out, “But the killer is still on the loose!”
Bree ignored the comment and pointed at another reporter with a raised hand.
“Pam Sawyer claims the Masons’ daughter is her own daughter, Blaire, who went missing twelve years ago. She says your department is keeping her from her child.” A silver-haired man in the front row extended his mic toward Bree.
Damn it! Pam did this? So much for guarding the family’s privacy. Anger burst through Matt. He tamped it down. Bree would do what she could to protect Claire, but he wished the girl’s biological mother had the same instincts.
Excitement spread through the crowd.
Matt gave Bree credit. Pam going to the press was an unexpected move. But Bree didn’t blink as she explained how the discovery had come to light through DNA testing.
“Why won’t you let Mrs. Sawyer have her own daughter?” Heads nodded at the question.
“Blaire Sawyer is now seventeen. As happy as we all are that she has been found alive and well, the situation is complicated. Imagine what Blaire is going through this week. I’m going to ask you to respect her privacy and her need to process the recent upheaval of her whole world.”
“Did the Masons steal her?” a reporter shouted.
“We don’t yet know how she came to be with the Masons, but we do know that the Masons were involved in other criminal activity.” Bree detailed their illegal legal services and fake charity, giving what seemed to him like purposefully mundane details.
Matt scanned the crowd. The financial aspects of the case seemed to bore everyone in the room and quell their initial excitement over Claire’s real identity. Who said Bree wasn’t good at politics?
A few seconds of silence passed.
Then Bree leaned forward. “For our next order of business, an alligator has been discovered living in Grey Lake.”
Excited murmurs spread through the room as everyone reanimated, and Matt applauded her use of the distraction.
Bree continued. “We’ve fielded two calls regarding alligator sightings and have confirmed the animal’s presence with a photograph. I’ll have my office release a copy of that image for your use.” Reporters shot out rapid-fire questions at the same time. Bree held up a hand. “The animal is estimated to be three feet in length. At this size, it is not expected to pose a significant threat to the community. In an abundance of caution, we suggest keeping your pets on leashes and away from the water’s edge. We also advise staying out of the lake until we’ve caught the alligator. We’ve enlisted the help of a reptile expert from the zoo.” Bree gave his name, his credentials, and the contact number of the zoo.
Someone yelled, “Where did it come from?”
“We don’t know for certain, but the most likely explanation is that the animal was a pet that outgrew its enclosure and was released.” Bree paused for effect. “Please don’t do this.”
A quick burst of quiet chuckling rippled through the crowd at her dry tone.
But the questions didn’t stop. Reporters yelled over top of one another. They repeated themselves and hammered at Bree for every detail about the gator’s activity. Bree answered a few questions, then silenced the group by simply holding up a hand. Pride surged in Matt at the way she commanded the room.
“We are doing everything in our power to capture the animal. We do not want anyone going after it on their own.” She leaned closer to the mic and enunciated very clearly. “I will not tolerate hunting parties. Alligators tend to shy away from human activity, but if this one was raised and fed by humans, it might not. You might lose a body part you’re attached to, and civilian interference will disturb the animal, drive it deeper into the wilderness, and hamper our efforts to capture it. We’d like to accomplish this without harming the animal, if possible. It’s not the gator’s fault it’s in the wrong place.”
Her gaze panned the room, and Matt knew she was making eye contact with cameras, letting the public know she was serious. Because he’d lived in this town his entire life, he also knew at least a dozen alligator hunting parties would be planned by morning.
She looked down and checked her phone, then ceded the mic back to Jager, leaving the politician to wrap up. She turned from the crowd and caught Matt’s eyes. The gleam of her own hunting instincts shone in her gaze. Something was up with the investigation. He fell into step with her as they strode from the room.
“What’s going on?” Matt asked in the corridor.
She shook her head and didn’t answer until they were in the middle of the parking lot. “I told you Zucco’s mom volunteered as an emergency foster for Claire?” She unlocked the SUV.
“Yes.” Matt climbed into the passenger seat.
She closed her vehicle door and started the engine. “Someone was watching the house. Zucco found a baseball cap bearing the logo for A-Plus Cleaning in the vacant lot behind her place.”
“You want to talk to Liam?”
“I do,” Bree said. “We’ll knock on his door and request an interview. If he sends us away and wants to meet us at the station in the morning with his attorney, that’ll do.”
“We can get a look at his biceps anyway.”
“That’s the thought.” Bree drove to an older neighborhood. Mature oak trees lined the street, their roots pushing up entire blocks of sidewalk. Small houses crowded compact lots. Bree parked in front of Amanda Ward’s house. Liam’s description of a “crappy little dump” had been overly harsh. Sure, the homes were small. If you stood in the side yard, you could touch their house and the one next door at the same time. But most of the houses appeared well kept, and Amanda’s bungalow was cottage-cute. She’d put clear effort into making it cozy. Flowerpots adorned her porch, and the door was freshly painted in a bright french blue. Liam should appreciate his mother.
A black Ford Explorer was parked at the curb. As they walked past the SUV, Matt touched the hood. “Still warm.” Someone had driven it recently.
Bree led the way up the front walk. The sun had set, and twilight was rapidly fading.
Matt thought of Liam and his attitude and veered to the side. “I’ll go around back, make sure he doesn’t skip.”
“Good plan.”
“Give me two minutes.” Matt crouched as he jogged through the side yard, discreetly looking into the windows on his way past. No sign of Liam. Matt emerged into a backyard the size of two parking spaces. He took a position at the corner of the house, out of sight but with a view of the back door.
The house was tiny, so he heard the front door open and Bree ask to speak with Liam.
“He isn’t here, and he isn’t talking to you without a lawyer,” Amanda said. “I already called one. He says you can call him if you want to talk to Liam.”
“His name?” Bree asked.
Amanda gave it. Having seen no sign of Liam, Matt returned to the sidewalk through the other side of the house. On the way, he might have peered into a few rooms. But he didn’t see Liam in any of these rooms either.
Bree was on the sidewalk, staring down the street. A man stood on the porch of the house across the street, smoking a cigar.
Matt fell into step beside Bree as they approached him. “Good evening.” She introduced them both.
The man smiled. “I know you, Sheriff. Are you looking for Liam?”
“We are.”
The man snorted. “What did the little shit do?”
“You don’t like him?” Matt asked.
“I don’t like the way he treats his mama. She does everything to raise him right, and he’s always looking to score easy cash. Too lazy to work hard.” The neighbor crossed his arms.
“We want to talk to him,” Bree said in a neutral voice. “Have you seen him?”
The man nodded. “Yesterday. Not today.”
“Does Liam have a tattoo?” Matt asked.
The man puffed on his cigar. “He does. A big-ass tiger.” The man patted his own bicep.
“Thank you very much.” Bree took his contact information, and they walked back to the SUV. “Based on the tattoo and cap, we’re going to request a search warrant for Liam’s house. I’ll call his attorney and arrange for him to come in for questioning. Hopefully, we can search his house while he’s at the station.”
Matt couldn’t wait to arrest the man who’d chased Claire and shot a firearm in a residential neighborhood. “So back to the station?”
“Unfortunately.” Bree drove in silence. On the way, she called home and they talked to the kids. Then they listened to the radio chatter for the rest of the trip.
They weren’t in the conference room for more than three minutes before someone knocked on the door.
Juarez poked his head through the opening. “Sheriff? Some dude just walked in and confessed to killing the Masons.”