Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I stared at my computer screen, watching the little clock in the bottom corner as I waited for the last four minutes of my shift to pass. I was taking a half-day, planning to go over to Gracie’s and check on her before the memorial later that night.
The clock ticked over to noon, and I turned off my monitor, spinning around in my seat as I felt the responsibilities of my job fall away for a moment. They were never far, each and every case tucked away at the back of my mind as I worked to solve them.
Never present. That was one of Gracie’s complaints, though we both knew that wasn’t the real reason she had requested a divorce. I just wish she could be more honest with me—with herself—about why we didn’t work out. Why we never would have.
My ring tone went off just as I stood up.
“Shepherd,” I answered, not recognizing the number on the screen but knowing it could be one of a dozen people I had handed my business card out to on my active cases.
“Detective.” The voice on the other end of the line had a distinct edge to it that told me the man speaking was a professional. I’d grown up with this concise conversation, every phone call with my father overly formal. “This is Special Agent Noah Delgado from the Portland FBI Field Office.”
“Agent Delgado,” I replied, my back stiffening as I prepared for whatever the fed was about to throw at me. It wasn’t every day you got a direct call from the FBI, after all. At least one that wasn’t about making plans for Thanksgiving. “How can I help you?”
“I have a C.I. who has relocated to your jurisdiction,” Delgado said, and I immediately felt a sense of relief wash over me.
Whatever this call was about, it wasn’t personal.
There was no bad news about a family member who had been kidnapped or found murdered across state lines.
“They’ve come across a body in your area and wanted to report it, however they don’t want their name on record, so they called me instead. ”
“C.I.’s can be pretty skittish,” I replied, bobbing my head in understanding. “I’m glad they reached out to you, though. Where should I be looking for this body?”
“Are you familiar with the Good Dog Trail?” Delgado asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “My C.I. was hiking along the riverbank, not on the trail proper, but they pulled up the coordinates on their phone and it looks like they’re about half a mile North of the Good Dog Trail.”
And just like that my stomach dropped. I closed my eyes, not wanting to answer. Not wanting to know. Because this call was meant to be strictly professional, no loved ones in danger. But if a body had been found on a trail South of Bend, chances were high that it could be Lexi.
The timing couldn’t be worse. I had been at Gracie’s side for every one of the Lexi Tate memorials, but with the divorce settling between us I couldn’t seem to do or say the right thing to support her anymore.
Even with the potential for closure, the chance to bring Lexi home, Gracie was going to be a wreck.
And what were we supposed to tell Hadley?
“I know it,” I said through clenched teeth. Because whoever had been found deserved a proper burial and their family deserved closure.
“Excellent,” Delgado said, his voice way too chipper for a conversation about a body that had been found, regardless of my own personal connection to the case.
Potential connection, I reminded myself.
There was every chance the body didn’t belong to Lexi and until I knew for sure I had to put away my own grief and focus on the job.
“The body is wrapped in a tarp and pinned to the bottom of the river. My C.I.’s dog is the one who found it.
While they don’t plan to stick around, they did find a branch to stick in the rocks and mud to signal where the body is so you don’t have to go searching, and they’ve left a doggy bag with the few strands of hair that came away from the corpse tied to it, so you can’t miss it. ”
“Thank you, Agent Delgado,” I said, rubbing at my still-closed eyes. “I’ll send a team to go check it out. And tell your informant they did good. There’s a family out there who will get closure tonight because they called you.”
“Will do, Detective,” Delgado said, his too-cheerful tone had dimmed a little, taking a solemn edge.
He ended the call then, and I opened my eyes, staring down at the phone screen for a long moment as I wondered how an agent from Portland had gotten my direct number.
A mystery for another day, I decided, and took a deep breath before getting to work.
Whoever was buried at the bottom of the river had been there long enough. It was time to bring them home.