Chapter Three #2
Campbell peered at him and responded with an edge to his voice, “On Founder’s Day, a woman was discovered in Reston Hills Park—dead from an overdose of fentanyl.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Kenneth uttered tonelessly. “Again, why are you here?”
“We think that she was part of the so-called Braison Family,” Campbell replied bluntly.
“As she was found naked and with no identification—apart from your initials tattooed on her right forearm—I need you to identify her…” Campbell watched Kenneth react to this before he took his cell phone out of his sport coat and pulled up a picture of the initials on the victim’s arm. “Look familiar?”
“Yes, it does,” Kenneth admitted. He added defensively, “We don’t require anyone to do what she or he doesn’t want to do. The initials are all about showing you’re serious about being a part of our community and not here for games. That’s it.”
Campbell was sure there was pressure to capitulate, as a way to maintain control over his flock. “I’m not here for games,” he pointed out sharply and then showed him a photo of the woman’s face in death.
Kenneth took a long look at the decedent’s face before sucking in a deep breath, then saying evenly, “Her name is Mia O’Dell.”
Campbell took note of this. “How old was she?”
“Twenty-eight. Or so I was told.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“A couple of days ago,” he claimed.
Campbell set his jaw. “Did she live here?”
“Yeah, Mia stayed in one of the cabins when she chose to be at the compound.”
Campbell peered at him. “Have any idea how she ended up at the park naked and strung out on drugs?”
Kenneth shrugged. “Wish I could say I did, but afraid not. There are no guards or gates keeping anyone locked in against their will—as opposed to keeping unwanted intruders out. So people tend to come and go as they please. It’s better that way.
” He lowered his chin. “As to OD’ing on fentanyl, we do not use drugs here, Detective, as you discovered the last time we were graced with your presence.
We have no control over what people choose to do away from the Braison Family ranch.
Apparently, Mia decided to play by her own rules when she was elsewhere… ”
“I think she was playing by the rules of whomever supplied her with the deadly fentanyl,” Campbell countered straightforwardly.
“You could be right about that,” Kenneth said. “But you won’t find that person here. As I said, we don’t allow drug use or dealing on this property.”
“Wish I could simply take your word for that. But it doesn’t work that way when investigating a homicide.”
Kenneth flinched. “You said she OD’d…”
“She did,” Campbell reiterated. “But whoever gave Mia the drugs could be criminally liable for killing her—and won’t get away with it.”
“Nor should they,” Kenneth said in agreement.
But he was too smug for Campbell’s comfort. “Where were you in the early hours of Founder’s Day?” he asked him directly, in corresponding with the estimated time of Mia’s fentanyl exposure and death.
Kenneth answered quickly, “Right here—all night long and throughout the day. We celebrated Founder’s Day here at the ranch.” He paused. “Or most of the Family did.”
“Can anyone vouch for this?” Campbell asked acutely.
“How about everyone?” Kenneth responded with ease. “We had a bonfire and sang songs. It was a real lovefest. Feel free to ask anyone.”
Campbell doubted that any of his followers would contradict his alibi. Certainly not any who were still alive. Meaning that he likely wouldn’t get very far in loosening any tongues if the man had drugged Mia. Or had taken or followed her to Reston Hills Park.
Campbell thought he might try a different tack. “You mind if I take a look around?”
“Not at all,” Kenneth began, then added, “So long as you have a warrant. If not, then I do mind. This is private property, and we like to guard it like Fort Knox from any unreasonable intrusion. I’m sure you understand?”
Only too well, Campbell told himself. Braison was buying time for himself or others to cover any tracks that needed to be covered. That still didn’t mean someone there was directly responsible for what happened to Mia O’Dell. But the resistance certainly caused his suspicious meter to shoot up.
“I’m sure I’ll be back with the search warrant,” he told him warningly.
Kenneth ran a hand across his mouth and glared. “Do what you must.”
Campbell held his gaze. “I’ll show myself out.” He walked away and could feel all eyes on him as if he intended to break up their happy home. Only if there was good reason to. Like being responsible for one death. Or maybe two poisonous deaths crossing two long decades.
* * *
KENNETH brAISON WATCHED intently as Detective Campbell Sawyer left the compound.
He seemed full of himself. Just like his father, Mason Sawyer, who had once gone after Kenneth’s own father, Wendell Braison.
Decades ago, he had been accused of poisoning to death Lynda Boxleitner, a former member of the Braison Family. But the investigation had gone nowhere.
Though Kenneth had long suspected that his father had murdered Lynda—one of his then-lovers—after she had rebuffed his advances, he had denied this till his dying breath.
Maybe he simply couldn’t bring himself to come clean, not even to his only flesh-and-blood relative.
Or maybe his father had been innocent after all and someone else inside the Braison Family, or outside of it, had killed Lynda for whatever reason.
Now Kenneth felt it was like déjà vu. Only this time, Mason Sawyer’s son had all but accused him of killing Mia.
Though they had slept together a few times, he had more action than he could handle and had no wish to end her life.
Nor did he believe any other Family member would dare to do something without his permission that would damage its reputation.
Much less, put them under the microscope again in a criminal investigation of that magnitude.
But then, even with his powerful position as the undisputed leader of the Braison Family, did that truly mean that someone hadn’t decided to supply Mia with a life-ending drug? And if so, had her death been accidental? Or was there a reason why someone would have wanted her dead?
He headed to his residence for a moment or two of further contemplation, knowing he would need to gather everyone to share the unfortunate news of the unexpected passing of one of their own.