Chapter 11 #2
Bulldog turned to Ghost. “Update the text message. Tell the ol’ ladies to come here with the teens. Ask Chip to keep an eye on Lila and Scotty.”
Ghost nodded, pulling out his phone. Bulldog must have spent enough time with Chip to trust him with Lila’s and Scotty’s safety like that.
Shit, maybe Ghost was right and Pumpkin really had been pulling away from the club.
One thing was for sure, though, he was exceedingly grateful Dosia, JJ, and SJ weren’t here.
“Toni Anderson is meeting Steel at the Sheriff’s Station,” Bulldog continued. “Ghost and I will be heading down too. It’s a Friday afternoon. Toni was given a head’s up, but there’s likely nothing that she’ll be able to do this late in the day.” His look turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Jenna.”
Jenna raised her chin. “I want to go with you but I have a feeling Keys will tell me more about what’s going on than the DEA will.”
Bulldog nodded, “No doubt.”
Ghost and Bulldog set out shortly after that.
It took some time to get the ol’ ladies into the clubhouse.
Some were still in town setting up for the festival.
The teens arrived first, and Jenna pulled Ollie aside to inform him about Dixie Gilbert’s death.
He didn’t look shocked or sad at the news, but Pumpkin was sure the grief would hit him eventually.
She might have been a shit mother, but she had still been his mom.
Jasmine, Sophia, and Tally came in next. They hurried over to their men. Though blind, Tally went to Scar in the back corner of the clubhouse like there was an invisible tether guiding her to him. Scar took Tally into his arms, burying his face into the crook of her neck.
By the time everyone arrived and was settled, Keys said he had more information to share.
He quickly caught the others up on what he’d discovered while they were still up in the Chapel.
By that time, Bulldog had sent a message that Steel had been processed and was currently in the interrogation room—which was just Carlos’s office because the Mount Grove Sheriff’s Station didn’t actually have an interrogation room—with DEA Agent Dylan Strouse.
“So the good news is they haven’t actually charged Steel with anything yet,” Keys told the room. “The bad news is, they have forty-eight hours to do so, and that doesn’t include the weekend.”
“What do you mean?” Jenna inquired. “He’ll be in jail overnight?”
Keys winced. “Likely through the weekend. Monday is hopeful but Tuesday is more likely.”
Tessa, who was still sitting next to Jenna, reached over to take her hand. Ollie, on her other side, did the same.
“I need to call my other kids,” Jenna said forlornly. “They need to know what’s going on with their father.”
“We all know Steel didn’t kill Dixie Gilbert,” Lucky said. He was standing by the bar with Harper in front of him. His arms were around her shoulders, keeping her against his chest. “What evidence do they have that they think it’s him?”
Keys made a face. “That’s where things get a little complicated.” His eyes shot to the teens. Bree’s wheelchair was off to the side. Both she and Aaron were squeezed onto the couch next to Ollie.
“Just say it, Uncle Keys,” Bree said with a note of impatience. “There’s nothing you could say that would make us believe Uncle Steel killed Ollie’s bio mom.”
Still, Keys checked with Lucky before he continued. “Dixie Gilbert wasn’t just shot in the head. It was a long-range shot from a sniper rifle. They’re still waiting on ballistics, but based on preliminary findings, the angle and the distance make the possible suspects a very narrow list.”
“Is Fang on that list?” Cage asked .
Keys shook his head. “Even if he could have taken that shot, he didn’t. He was standing next to Dixie in the motel room when she was killed. He’s the one person they’re sure didn’t kill her.”
Someone to Pumpkin’s left let out a low curse.
“Steel was a sniper,” Papaw stated plainly.
Keys glanced at him and then Angel, a former Army sniper. “They estimate the shot was taken from a cell tower seven hundred and fifty meters away.”
Angel cursed, her hands balling into fists. “Show me an aerial view of the motel.”
Keys pulled a tablet from his bag. After hitting a few buttons, he passed it to her. “It was a seedy, backwoods motel, Angel. There’s literally nothing else around.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Angel muttered as she walked away, studying the satellite footage.
Papaw, who had trained Steel in sniper school, crossed his arms over his chest. “Seven-fifty is impressive but not exceptional. There are plenty who could take that shot.”
“And how many of those people had an altercation with the victim the afternoon before her murder?” Keys asked Papaw.
“Dixie Gilbert was the one who came to my store,” Jenna argued. “We didn’t seek her out.”
Keys did not look happy to be the one to tell Jenna, “When Steel escorted her from the store, a witness states that he heard Steel tell Dixie that if she comes near you or Ollie again, he would kill her.”
“Who’s the witness?” Lucky demanded.
“I don’t recognize the name, but I’m not a local like you and Bear,” Keys said with a shake of his head. He was growing his hair out and it hung around his ears at the movement. “Timothy Murphy?”
A snort sounded and everyone in the room looked to Grumpy. The man was standing at the end of the bar, leaning on his elbow.
“What?” Keys asked as Lucky demanded, “Do you know the name?”
“I do, but either it’s a major coincidence or someone is fucking with us,” Grumpy stated.
“More specifically, Steel.” When no one said anything, Grumpy straightened.
“Timothy Murphy is one of the first recorded American snipers during the Revolutionary War. So, like I said, either a huge coincidence or the name’s a fucked-up alias.
” Realizing what he’d said, he added towards the teens, “Sorry.”
No one looked happy at this idea. Lucky turned to Keys. “Is there a town resident or a family member who might be here for the festival named Timothy Murphy?”
“Not that I could find,” Keys said, “but I’m still looking. It’s not as easy as a Google search.”
Jenna’s phone rang. She fished it out of her pocket. “It’s Bulldog,” she stated before answering. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker.” She hit a button and then put her phone in the center of the coffee table. Everyone crowded closer to hear better. “How is he, Bulldog?”
“Pissed,” was the gruff answer. “Agent Shit-for-Brains is taking him back to the holding cells now. Toni is trying to get ahold of the prosecuting attorney. Since the DEA is federal, it’s not as easy as taking a trip to the courthouse.”
“Am I allowed to visit, bring him things?” Jenna asked.
Bulldog’s voice softened, “Honey, you can bring him anything you want. Carlos would never turn you away.”
Jenna nodded, though Bulldog couldn’t see it. “I’ll pack us a bag and be there soon. I also need to find coverage for my duties tomorrow.”
Others started to argue, but Bulldog’s voice through the speaker cut them off. “Jenna, Steel’s already told me to tell you that, under no circumstances, are you coming down here to stay. He will never turn you away for a visit, but you’re not spending the night.”
Jenna scowled at the device. “Well, you can tell him to get bent. I’m going and you can’t stop me. I am not leaving my husband to stay in a jail cell alone for the weekend. The festival will survive without me.”
Bulldog grumbled something. “Let me see if I can find Carlos. We’ll need to get you a bed in here.” There were background noises like Bulldog was walking around the station. “He’s not going to like this, Jenna.”
“I don’t care,” she snapped back, and then flinched, straightening her back.
It took her several deep breaths before she loosened her stiff posture.
Pumpkin knew that technique all too well.
He had to do the same when his back or legs seized.
He hoped the stress of the situation wasn’t going to cause Jenna to have a flare-up.
Background shouting came over the speaker. Not enough for them to pick up the full conversation, but Pumpkin did recognize Carlos’s voice as one of the participants. He was pretty sure Carlos just called someone a moron.
“DEA’s pissed,” Bulldog’s voice was amused. “Can’t say I mind. He tried his damnedest to get Steel to confess, even went as far as to try to cut him a deal, but Steel never cracked. Unfortunately, you’re his only alibi, Jenna.”
“Do you have time of death?” Keys asked before Jenna could respond. “The report hasn’t been updated yet, still states TBD.”
“Twenty-two thirty-two,” Bulldog answered in military time, still talking over the shouting in the background. “It helps when there’s a witness.”
Once again, Grumpy snorted. Everyone turned their attention to him. “Ten thirty-two is police code for ‘man with a gun’.”
A dark scowl appeared on Jenna’s face. “Jack’s being framed.”
Grumpy’s expression was filled with pity. “I’m no expert, but that’d be my guess.”
A hard knocking came over the phone. The shouting stopped and Bulldog said, “Just letting you know that Jenna’s moving into the station. We’re going to need a cot for her.”
“Absolutely not!” came a hard male voice.
“You may be able to barge your way into my station and use my cells for your pointless vendetta,” Carlos snapped, “but you have no say who I allow in my house.” To his brother, Carlos added, “She can use my office. We’ll bring everything she needs in before she gets here.”
The other voice, no doubt DEA Agent Strouse, tried to argue again, but Bulldog spoke over him, “Thank you, fratellino .” It was Italian for ‘little brother’.
The shouting grew quieter, indicating Bulldog was walking away from Carlos and Agent Strouse.
“I’m heading back to the holding cells so you can tell him yourself, Jenna. ”
Jenna snorted. “Chicken,” she mocked.
“Damn straight,” Bulldog answered.