Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“I’ll call you right back,” Emma said to her phone and thumbed the screen.
Matthias watched Emma silently process the news. Her face grew still, but a sea of emotions flickered beneath the surface.
“Is Eric okay?” he asked.
“He sounded fine.”
“What did he say? Where’s Nell?”
Emma looked at the phone in her hand. “I didn’t get a chance to ask. He called right before you walked up.” She met his gaze. “You’re sure it’s Sonny?”
“No doubt about it.” Matthias had only encountered the man once but recognized him the moment the forensic techs exposed the face. The local police and coroner, who’d been well acquainted with the developer, also confirmed Sonny’s identity.
“What happened?” A scowl furrowed Emma’s brow. “Obviously it wasn’t a construction accident.”
“Not likely. I don’t know what happened yet. They’re still uncovering the rest of the body, but I wanted to let you know it’s not Eric.”
“Thanks,” she said softly. “I appreciate that.”
Matthias wished he knew what was going through her mind, but she clearly wasn’t ready to tell him. He thumbed toward the grave. “I’m going back down there to see what’s happening. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s not like Sonny was a friend. Before yesterday, I hadn’t seen him since high school.”
“Right. Well, text if you need me.”
Fran stepped out of the car, her face even paler than before. “Can I go now?”
He wondered if she’d been listening. “No. The police need to speak with you before you leave.”
She exhaled loudly, flopped back into the car, and slammed the door. Matthias noticed the window was open. She’d definitely overheard his news.
“I’m gonna call Eric back,” Emma said. “Keep me posted.”
Matthias strode down the road toward the gathering of law enforcement. A glance back revealed Emma on her phone watching him.
* * *
Emma listened to the phone ring and was beginning to fear that Eric wasn’t going to answer when she heard a click.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Where are you? Did I hear your hot cop say something about Sonny Jones?”
She chirped a laugh. “You’re a fine one to ask me where I am. Where the hell were you? You knew I was on my way here, yet you take off, no note, and leave your phone behind? What were you thinking?”
“I know. I’m sorry. You have every right to be pissed.”
“Good, because I am. I was scared to death.”
Eric’s sigh filtered into her ear. “I took Nell to Zeke’s funeral.”
So Matthias had been right. “Did you forget your phone?” she demanded.
“No.”
She felt the blood rising into her cheeks and her head. “Eric—”
“Nell insisted I leave it behind.”
Emma opened her mouth, but the words on her tongue evaporated, and all she could manage was, “Why?”
“She didn’t want you following us. She figured you and your cop were smart enough to track my phone, and she didn’t want to have to deal with you and the funeral.”
“Deal with me?” Tears stung Emma’s eyes, and she swiped a hand across her face. “What does that mean?”
Eric fell quiet, but Emma heard the sound of a door closing before he spoke in a hushed tone. “Nell’s a raw nerve right now. She really loved Zeke.”
“Even though he got her using again?”
Eric’s tone sharpened. “See? Now that’s exactly what she didn’t want to face. You blaming Zeke. Being judgy. Her words, not mine.”
Emma closed her eyes. Eric had a point. As Nell’s big sister, Emma tried—too hard at times—to protect her. To reel her back in. But since their parents had died in a tragic car crash that both Emma and Nell blamed themselves for, there was no reeling Nell in. “Where is she now?”
“She’s here.”
“At your place?”
“Yes. I told you she’s been staying in my guest room. It took some convincing on my part to get her to come back with me after the funeral, but she did. Emma, she hasn’t taken anything for the last three days. I realize that’s not a lot, but—”
“One day at a time.”
“Right. I know you want to see her, and I want that, too. But she went to pieces yesterday, and I don’t think she can handle one more thing. Even if that thing is you.”
“I’m not going back to Erie without seeing her.”
“Fine. But not today. Okay?”
Retorts rolled through Emma’s mind. Nell had been avoiding her using one excuse or another for far too long.
“Emma?” Eric’s warning tone sounded way too much like her mother’s used to. “I mean it. Not today.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly.
“Good. Now where are you, and what did Matthias mean when he said, ‘It’s Sonny Jones?’”
* * *
One of the newly arrived uniformed state troopers stopped Matthias before he reached the grave. “I’m afraid you need to stay back, sir.”
Matthias introduced himself as a detective without mentioning Erie.
The trooper eyed him. “I thought I knew all the local police.”
From behind Matthias, came a voice. “It’s okay, Trooper Ryan. I’ve got this.”
Matthias turned to see a man he’d hoped he’d never have to encounter again. Square-jawed, broad-shouldered, and wearing a dark suit and an even darker scowl, he thrust a hand toward Matthias. “I’m surprised to see you here, Honeywell.”
“Fergusson.” Matthias clasped the offered hand. “I could say the same about you.”
“What? You mean you haven’t kept track of me?
” He didn’t include even a hint of a smile with his sarcasm.
“After I left Erie Police, PSP accepted my application. My wife has family in Pittsburgh, so I transferred to Troop B. Five years ago, there was an opening in the Criminal Investigation Division. I applied and got it.”
Matthias knew damned well there was more to Joe Fergusson’s move than he let on. A case they’d both worked had ended badly. Matthias carried the resulting internal scars, and he’d been the lucky one.
“What about you?” Fergusson asked. “What brings you this far south?”
Matthias weighed how much he wanted this guy to know, but being evasive would only bring more questions. “My girlfriend used to live down the road. We’re visiting.”
“But why are you here?” Fergusson pointed to the ground. “I mean, you’re way out of your jurisdiction. You hear about a homicide and can’t resist checking it out?”
“Something like that.” Matthias motioned toward the body. “What’ve you got?”
Fergusson studied him for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “Victim’s Greyson Jones, the guy who’s developing this property.”
Matthias didn’t reveal that he already knew as much.
“There’s a penetrating injury to his abdominal area. The coroner won’t elaborate as to the cause of death until after autopsy, but it looks pretty obvious to me.”
“Penetrating injury? Gunshot or knife?”
“My initial guess is he was stabbed. He may have been killed elsewhere and transported here, but it’s too soon to tell for sure.
The damned rain didn’t do us any favors.
It washed away all but a few footprints.
One set belongs to the woman who found the body.
” Fergusson looked at Matthias’s mud-caked boots. “Let me guess. The other set is yours.”
“Good guess.”
The sound of an approaching vehicle drew their attention down the hill, where a small SUV roared in their direction.
Two of the uniformed cops stepped onto the road, arms raised.
For a second, Matthias feared the driver was going to run the cops down, but at the last minute, the car lurched to a stop.
A petite blonde in an oversized pink hoodie tumbled out and staggered blindly toward them.
The uniforms caught her only to have her try to wriggle free.
“Let me go,” she cried. “Is that my husband? Is Sonny—” she hiccupped. “Is Sonny dead?”
Fergusson strode toward her. Matthias fell into step behind him. “Ma’am,” Fergusson said in the same take-charge tone Matthias remembered. Fergusson identified himself. “And you are?”
She continued to squirm in the uniforms’ grasp. “Ashley Jones. Sonny Jones is my husband.”
Fergusson gestured for the cops to release her. “What made you come here this morning?”
The woman rubbed her arms where the two officers had gripped her.
“A neighbor of mine called me to say she’d seen a lot of police activity at Sonny’s work site.
I’ve been frantic because he never came home last night and isn’t answering his phone, so I hurried over here and saw the county coroner’s truck.
” Her eyes glistened. “That’s him, isn’t it? Sonny?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but yes. A body has been unearthed, and several of the local police officers have identified the victim as Greyson Jones.”
She let out a mewling wail. Fergusson reached for her, but she juked away with a yelp. “I need to see him.”
Matthias heard his name called softly and turned to see Emma standing on the road behind him. Beyond, Fran and her car were gone.
Another yip from Jones’s wife brought his attention back to her. Fergusson had reached out to take her arm as he guided her toward the shallow grave. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped.
Fergusson held up both hands. “I only wanted to steady you. The ground’s slippery, and you don’t appear too steady.”
“My husband’s dead. Obviously I’m unsteady. But I don’t need your help.”
As Fergusson directed Ashley Jones to the victim, Matthias moved to Emma’s side.
“Where’s Fran?” he asked.
“I tried to get her to stay, but she refused and took off.”
“At least we know her name. The locals will track her down and question her later.”
Emma was watching the scene at the grave. “Poor Ashley.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah. She, Sonny, Eric, and I all graduated high school together. Ashley and Sonny were sweethearts even back then. He was the quarterback. She was the head cheerleader.”
“A little clichéd,” Matthias said.
“A little.”
“Did you get to talk to Eric?”
“Yeah.” Emma kept her gaze on the gathering next to the grave. “You were right. He took Nell to Zeke’s funeral.”
He gave her a grin. “Of course. I’m always right.”
She responded with a soft snort.
“Why didn’t he leave you a note? And why didn’t he take his phone?”