Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Owen
“Listen... you’ve got the footage. You know it was me. What questions could you possibly have?”
“Mr. Armstrong, before we go any further, are you sure you don’t want an attorney here on your behalf?
” Detective Hibbs asks from the other side of the table in the crowded interview room.
Two other detectives, my sergeant and lieutenant, along with the two uniformed officers who escorted the suspect into the room are also on the other side of the glass window.
My stomach twists as I watch Hibbs question the traitor who has been torturing the McKinnon’s.
I had just put my truck in reverse when Daisy forwarded me the text she received. I rushed back into the house to find the light I had seen in her eyes when she kissed me goodbye gone. For that alone, I want to rip the throats out of every person involved in this shitshow.
Smith and his security team are tracing where the text came from, and we agreed it was best for me to go to work and follow my usual routine.
County and local officers have been stationed at the ranch, the store, the bar, and our homes.
Sharon and her dog, Petey, are staying with my mom, and we have a county officer there, too.
I know we’re covered, and coming to work was the smart thing to do, but I’m going mad.
The need to be with Daisy has formed an ache in my chest so deep I can barely breathe.
When I got to work, I made it clear I was watching this interview. There was no pushback, so here I am.
“Nope. No need for an attorney,” Dusty says. “I won’t be here long.”
“We’d like to know who else is involved.”
Dusty leans back in his chair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He folds his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his face. I doubt he can afford a lawyer on his own, but he seems confident that whoever hired him will have him out of here as soon as this interview is over.
“Were you paid to start the fires?”
“The McKinnons think they’re better than all of us.
They own the hardware store, the local bar, and the ranch.
Hell, you can’t even remodel a house without the women of the family getting involved.
They think they have their own personal police officer in their pocket with Swift.
It’s time someone put the McKinnons and Swift in their place. ”
“And you’re that person?”
“Why not?”
“Did you act alone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you also cut the fences on the McKinnon and Shelton properties?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were you paid by a third party to cut the fence lines and set the fires?”
“Can’t say. But you’re na?ve to think I’m the only person who hates that damn family. They’re learning the hard way they don’t get to have everything.”
“So, you were paid?”
Dusty shrugs.
Keep going, Hibbs. He’s too stupid to realize he’s about to give you what you’re looking for.
"Sorry, we can't transcribe shrugs," Hibbs says. “I’ll ask again. Were you paid to set the fires and cut the fence lines?”
Dusty leans forward, maliciousness in his eyes. “I had no choice since the McKinnon bitch got me fired. I’d do it again.”
“Let’s try this again. Who paid you?”
“Just some guys from out of town.”
“Did they pay you in person?”
“You mean, are they still in town? Like I’d be stupid enough to tell you that.”
But you just did, asshole.
“You said ‘still’. Does that mean they were here?”
Dusty realizes his mistake and shuts up.
“You were seen with two men at The House a few nights ago. They weren’t local. Is that who paid you?”
“I think I’ve given you plenty.”
“One more question. The men with you the other night. Were they visiting from Boston?”
Dusty’s body stills. His face pales. I think he may have just pissed himself.
After the shock ebbs, he sits back, arms crossed once again. He’s scared. And it appears he’s done talking.
The two uniformed officers stand him up and escort him out of the room, but as soon as he crosses the threshold he yells over his shoulder. “Tell the McKinnons to give them what they want. These fuckers are just getting started.”
An hour later, I’m in my patrol car driving through town aimlessly, my mind reeling as I play back Dusty’s interview.
His final warning as he left the room continues to haunt me.
Then there was the hateful look on his face when he mentioned me.
It’s no surprise to hear he isn’t my number one fan, but his belief that the McKinnons think they run this town and have me in their pocket is unsettling.
Every head on the other side of the glass turned my way after his statement.
When the interview ended, my bosses naturally had some questions for me.
I explained what happened with Chad a couple of months back and then my chat with the suspect.
As far as I can tell, they believe me. However, I’m on their radar now, and not for the right reason.
Not to mention, I’m worried about Livvy and Mom.
If these assholes have something against me, is my family safe?
My personal phone pings with a text from Daisy. Just seeing her name on my phone takes a little of the weight from my chest.
Clover:
Mom and I made it to my appointment safe and sound.
Owen:
Good. I’d hate to have to gut Smith, I like him.
Clover:
Down boy.
Owen:
Text me after. Hope it goes well.
Clover:
Her message sends my heart soaring, but only for a moment, because not a minute later my work phone rings, and my sergeant's name appears.
“Hey, Sarg.”
“Swift, I hate to be the person to tell you this, but Armstrong’s mother posted his bail after his arraignment.”
Fuck!
“How the hell did Marcy Armstrong come up with that kind of money?”
“I had the same question. I’m guessing she recently, as in today, came into a large sum of money from a bank account on the East Coast.”
“Ain’t this some bullshit.”
“Sorry, man.”
“Do we have eyes on him? Do we know where he went?”
“Every agency within a fifty-mile radius is stretched thin to make sure the McKinnons and their properties are safe.”
Shit. He’s right.
“Sorry, sir. You’re right. Still, we need to let TSA know to be on the lookout in case he attempts to skip town.”
“Already done.”
“Appreciate you.”
“We’ll do everything we can to keep Armstrong in town and figure out who he’s working with.”
“We know who he’s working with.”
“We need proof. You know that.”
“Yes, but you saw his reaction.”
“I did, Swift, but it’s not enough. We’ve got all hands on deck. We’ll get these assholes.”
“I won’t sleep until we do.”
“Understood. Listen, I have to go, but we’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks again, Sarg.”
Our call disconnects, and the wheels in my mind spin with a million different scenarios.
Will Dusty try to skip town?
Now that he’s confessed, he would be a fool to do anything else, so he isn’t really a threat anymore. Right?
Then there’s the text sent to Daisy. They don’t have to trace it. We all know who it’s from. They’ve already pushed her off a cliff and set the ranch on fire. Whoever sent that text isn’t fucking around. We all need to be on the alert.
And now I have to tell my favorite people in the world that Armstrong is free. Our shitshow just keeps getting worse. Just as I’m about to spiral, I get a text that makes me chuckle from the woman who fucking loves me.
Clover:
Say goodbye to the boot, baby! I can drive again. Sweet, sweet freedom!