Chapter Twelve Bree
Chapter Twelve
Bree
“Timothy James Ford Jr.”—Cap read the results generated from the facial-recognition software over Brad’s shoulder—“age forty-two, originally from Florida. He also had two priors for stalking.”
“Last known address”—Brad pointed at the screen—“was three years ago. Waco, Texas.”
“Great.” I sank into the chair and rubbed the spot where the headache wouldn’t let up. “Maybe we need to bait him?”
Brad cracked his knuckles, and I peered over at him. “You’re kidding, right?” He sounded shocked. Both guys looked at me like I was crazy.
“Jeez.” I dropped my hand from my head. “It was just a suggestion.”
“All right.” Brad closed his eyes as he thought. “I’ll have the guys dig up as much as they can on this guy. Bree, you and I can start digging into the poison and where it’s being sold.”
“Payne, you and Adam search through any names that cross-reference with this asshole and tell me if anything comes up. We can’t assume that Ford is working alone.”
“Bree.” Cap held up a hand to get my attention. “How about we get you into the shooting range this week?”
No way. I took a moment to readjust my bag on the back of the chair as I considered my answer. I had my reasons for not liking guns, not the least of them was having my own turned on me. “I’m good, Cap.” I didn’t have to explain myself.
“In this line of work—”
“I know, but I’m all good.” I refused to make eye contact with Brad.
I gathered my things and spotted two empty coffee cups in the trash bin next to his desk.
“You were late,” Brad said, reading my thoughts, “and it turns out I actually do like your drink order.”
“You drank my coffee?” I pressed a hand to my chest.
“Yup, actually, I did. Better than tossing it down the sink.” He grinned evilly at me.
“You’re a monster,” I teased as I checked the time and saw it was just after 1 p.m. “No worries—we can always stop by and grab a replacement.”
Brad shook his head as he held the door open. “You have a problem, Bree. You know that, right?” We walked together toward bookings. It was the noisiest part of the station.
“Bradley,” a voice called, and we turned around. “This just came in.”
“Thanks, Hank.” Brad’s brows went up as he happily took the box from him. “You remember Bree Jaminson?”
“I sure do. Nice to see you again, Bree.” He clicked his scanner at the bar code on the package. “Well, I got a busy day. You enjoy that.” He gave a quick retreat and headed for the front door.
“All right”—I turned to Brad—“what’s in the box that’s got you so excited?” He looked like the Cheshire cat.
“Something to feed your addiction.”
“You bought a coffee maker?” I raised a brow. I was touched that he’d thought of me. Of course I had to give him a little shit for it. “You know it’s not just about the brew. It’s about the kind of coffee, the creamer, the sugar treat that goes with it.”
“Oh, trust me, I didn’t think it was that easy,” he joked and waved at me to follow. We headed for the lunchroom, and he put the box on the counter. “Okay, we’d better go. I’ll set this baby up later.”
“Are you two on your way out?” Officer Smith called as we were about to go out the door.
“We are. Have you got something?” Brad’s eyes lit up.
“No, sir. I just wondered if you were going to the game tonight, Bree?”
“Ahh, I wasn’t aware there was one, but maybe yeah.”
“Cool, I’m hoping to make it too.” He shot Brad a quick glance before he excused himself.
We continued toward the doors. “You know he worships the ground you walk on, right?” Brad shook his head and unlocked the doors to his car.
I reached for the glove box to grab a Kleenex, and my eyes landed on the TASER, and I shuddered.
Brad gave me a look, and I slammed the glove box shut.
He stayed quiet as we worked our way across town, knocking on doors to any business that might sell plants or gardening stuff.
Something seemed to be on his mind, so I let him be.
The next nursery we headed for was known to sell exotic plants.
I left him to his thoughts as I researched the poison moss more.
There were a few cases where people had accidentally ingested the moss and died within minutes.
Animals knew to stay away from it, apparently, but some out-of-town hikers who’d gotten lost and gone searching for food hadn’t been so lucky.
It had turned out to be their downfall when they made tea with it.
We parked, and I tucked my laptop away as Brad opened my door and offered me a hand.
“Thanks. Hey.” I pulled on his arm. “Are you okay? You seem off.”
“No, I’m good.” He nodded for me to follow.
“Then why are you so quiet?”
He pulled out his badge as we headed inside. “Just have some things on my mind.” He flashed his ID to the clerk. “Good afternoon, I’m Detective Stone, and this is my partner, Jaminson. Are you the owner of the shop?”
“I am, name’s Paul Wiseman.” He looked worried as he set his spray bottle down. “Am I in trouble?”
“No.” Brad smiled at him. “But we’re trying to locate a possible customer of yours.” He pulled out Ford’s photo. “Does he look familiar to you?”
“I mean, he kind of looks familiar, but he might have one of those faces, you know?” He studied the photo for a moment. “Can you send me his photo? And if anything comes to me, I’ll give you a call.”
Nodding, I stepped up to the counter and AirDropped his photo. “Any chance you could look up a name for us?”
“Sure.” He turned his computer screen so we could see it. “What’s his name?”
“Timothy James Ford.” I watched as he typed it in, and the screen gave a little shake as if to say, No one used that name.
“Try just Ford,” Brad suggested, and a list of names came up.
“No Timothys.” The clerk shrugged. “Hang on, I’ll try something else.” We watched as he tried different variations of the name. “I’m sorry, nothing is coming up.”
“It was worth a try.” Brad shrugged, and we went back outside, where he checked the time. “That’s all the nurseries in town. Why don’t we grab a late lunch and regroup?”
“Sure.”
Brad took us to a mom-and-pop sandwich shop, and we sat outside and ate at one of their picnic tables to enjoy the warm sun while it lasted. The heat felt nice on my back. A cool breeze made it perfect. I chomped happily on my smoked meat on rye. This was my absolute favorite time of year.
“Can I ask you something?” Brad’s voice was muffled as he spoke around his mouthful of sandwich. I shrugged, unsure I wanted to commit in my happy moment. “Why won’t you take Cap’s offer and get yourself a gun?”
I stopped chewing and slowly put my sandwich down. “I can do my job without one. Not gonna start now.” Brad studied me, then shook his head as if frustrated.
“You sure know how to shut down a conversation.”
It immediately ticked me off because he was right. “You carry, so why should I?”
“Because of times like the nightclub where you could’ve been killed. What if he approached you? Or pulled a gun on you?”
I shrugged and pretended all that stuff didn’t run through my brain that night. “You paint me as reckless. I made sure all my bases were covered.”
“No,” he said, then paused. “They weren’t.” He made an irritated noise deep in his throat. “Fine. If you won’t tell me about that, can you at least explain this?” He reached into his pocket, then stopped as something caught his eye behind me, and he went still.
“What?” I looked around. I didn’t see anything or anyone out of place.
“Come with me.” Brad tossed the rest of his lunch into a trash can, and I followed.
I wondered what he was up to in that sharp brain of his.
He held up a hand to a car as we crossed the road, and he led me up the front steps of the familiar church.
“Father Mark.” Brad’s whole demeanor softened as we approached the tall, red-headed man in a collar.
The man smiled as he balanced the pile of hymnbooks he carried and reached out his hand for a shake.
“Detective Stone.” He smiled warmly at Brad. “What brings you by this time of day?”
“You remember the Jaminson twins?” he asked. I stepped around Brad, feeling like I was in Sunday school again. “Well, this is Bree. She’s come back to do a bit of consulting for us.”
Father Mark’s face lit up, and I could feel his love when he stepped forward and gave both of my shoulders a friendly squeeze.
“My goodness, look at you, Bree.” I tried to smile, but I still had some deep-rooted issues I needed to deal with before I’d ever feel totally comfortable here. “Are you back?”
“For now.”
Brad shot me a look, which I pretended not to see. I had pushed back on the church after what happened at the river, and I knew some of the locals secretly judged me for not wanting to share every detail of what happened to us, every single Sunday.
He stepped back when an older lady appeared, and it was obvious she wanted a word with the priest. “Well, we’ve missed seeing you here. I sure hope to see you in the pew with your family this Sunday.” I offered a small smile and a nod. I didn’t want to commit or lie.
“Sorry for jumping right to business, Father, but would you mind if I spoke to the man in charge of the gardens?” Brad pointed outside.
“Of course not.” Father Mark spoke to the lady and told her he would be right back. He waved for us to follow, and we went out a side door. He approached a man who held a leaf blower and said something we couldn’t hear.
“You know you should really make a decision,” Brad said.
I knew he was referring to whether I was staying or not. “I was hired to work with you on this one case, and once we get this guy, I might be out of a job, so . . .”
“Detective Stone, Ms. Jaminson, this is Mandell. He and his small company do a wonderful job of keeping our grounds looking fantastic.” Father Mark smiled at the man as he introduced us.
Brad flashed his badge, and I pulled mine out, but Mandell didn’t even glance at them—he just stood rigid and looked uncomfortable.