Chapter 22 Holt #2
“No, Lucy, wait. I need to tell Holt and Tom something… There was another car,” Lacey said, her voice strained but urgent. “A car was driving up fast behind me on that curve. It hit my truck from behind and then just drove away.”
“Can you describe the vehicle?” Holt asked, pulling out his phone to record her statement.
“I...” Lacey struggled to focus, clearly fighting the effects of shock and possibly a concussion.
“That’s enough,” Carmen interjected firmly, stepping between Holt and her patient.
“That’s enough,” Lucy snapped. “My sister needs immediate medical attention, not an interrogation.”
“I just need a few more details—” Holt began, but June caught his arm and shook her head slightly.
“I’ll come talk to you at the hospital later,” Holt promised Lacey. “Focus on getting better.”
Lacey nodded weakly and closed her eyes as she was taken up the embankment and loaded into the ambulance.
For the next hour, Holt and Tom conducted a thorough examination of the accident scene, with June providing insightful observations that reminded Holt of their old partnership.
She had always been able to see patterns and inconsistencies that others missed, and her legal mind made her naturally suspicious of convenient explanations.
“The impact damage is definitely consistent with a rear-end collision,” Tom agreed as they examined Lacey’s truck more closely. “And these paint transfer marks on her bumper suggest the other vehicle was dark blue or black.”
“We need to check with local body shops,” Holt said. “If the other driver sustained damage from the collision, they’ll need to get it repaired somewhere.”
“You may want to try Cedar Creek as well,” June suggested. “If I had just run someone off the road, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to use a local body shop.”
“True,” Tom said, nodding in agreement. “I’ll get Rad to check out all the body shops in town and some of the surrounding towns.”
“Was there anything like this during the fires ten years ago?” Holt asked.
“You’re looking into the fire of ten years ago?” June’s brows shot up.
“I’m just looking into similar patterns,” Holt told her. “I thought Willa would’ve said something.”
June frowned. “I don’t believe she did.”
Holt felt a pang of guilt as he remembered his promise he’d made to Willa. But that wasn’t about the fire investigation of ten years ago. It was about the notes and what was happening to her.
“Actually, June,” Tom said, “you may be able to help us out with the current fires.”
June looked between the two men with curiosity. “How so?”
“The Henderson farm fire yesterday spread onto federal land,” Tom explained. “We need to coordinate with federal agencies to investigate the full scope of the arson, and we’re running into jurisdictional complications.”
Holt found himself nodding before Tom had even finished speaking.
The idea of working closely with June sent an unexpected surge of anticipation through him, his heart doing an involuntary flip at the thought of their collaboration.
He pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the practical benefits of her involvement.
“That’s actually an excellent suggestion,” Holt said. “Your experience, June, with federal regulations and inter-agency coordination could be invaluable. We need someone who understands how to navigate the bureaucracy quickly.”
“I’ve dealt with federal land use issues before,” June said thoughtfully. “Environmental law cases, mostly, but the jurisdictional principles are similar. What exactly are you looking at?”
Tom pulled out his phone and showed her photos from the Henderson farm scene.
“The fire started here on private property but jumped to this section of national forest land. The Forest Service wants their own investigation, Fish and Wildlife is concerned about endangered bird habitats, and we’re trying to prove this was deliberate arson connected to a larger pattern. ”
“Multiple agencies, multiple agendas,” June observed, studying the images. “Everyone protecting their own interests instead of working together toward the truth.”
“Exactly,” Holt said. “We need someone who can help us establish a unified investigation protocol that satisfies everyone’s requirements while still allowing us to follow the evidence where it leads.”
June was quiet for a moment, considering. “The key would be getting all parties to agree on a lead investigative authority upfront. Federal crimes on federal land typically fall under FBI jurisdiction, but local law enforcement maintains authority over the private property aspects.”
“Could you help us draft a formal cooperation agreement?” Tom asked. “Something that would give us the access we need without stepping on anyone’s territorial claims?”
“I could,” June said slowly. “It would need to be carefully worded to address each agency’s concerns while maintaining investigative integrity. When do you need this?”
“Yesterday would be preferable,” Tom said with a wry smile. “But realistically, we need to have something in place before we can move forward with any meaningful investigation of the federal land portion.”
Holt felt another flutter of anticipation at the prospect of working alongside June again. During their marriage, she’d occasionally helped him prepare for complex legal scenarios in his training, and her analytical mind had always complemented his investigative approach perfectly.
“I’ll need to review the specific statutes and regulations involved,” June said. “And I’ll want to speak with each agency representative to understand their particular concerns before drafting anything.”
“How long do you think that would take?” Holt asked.
“If everyone cooperates? Two to three days to have a preliminary agreement ready for review,” June replied. “A week to have something finalized that everyone can sign off on.”
Tom nodded approvingly. “That would put us well ahead of where we’d be if we were trying to navigate this on our own.”
“There’s another consideration,” June added. “If this fire is connected to the pattern you mentioned from ten years ago, there may be federal statutes of limitations issues to consider as well. Depending on what crimes were committed and when, some charges may no longer be viable.”
Holt hadn’t considered that angle, and he found himself impressed once again by June’s ability to see the broader legal implications of their investigation.
“Would that affect our ability to pursue current charges?” Tom asked.
“Not necessarily, but it could impact plea negotiations or cooperation agreements if we identify suspects who were involved in both time periods,” June explained. “It’s worth understanding the full legal landscape before we get too far down any particular path.”
“Okay, if you don’t mind,” Tom said, looking between them. “I leave it to the two of you to work on this.”
“Work on what?” Willa’s voice had them turning toward them.
“I asked your mother to help us navigate the legal minefield of the federal land the fire jumped yesterday,” Tom explained.
“Mom!” Willa groaned and rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy. No work.” Her eyes narrowed on her mother. “You’re already helping out at the vet clinic.”
“Sweetheart, this is good for my recovery,” June defended her position. “Keeping my brain and hands busy stops me from getting mental health issues.”
Holt hid his smile and saw Tom doing the same.
You couldn’t argue with an attorney—they always had some angle that left everyone else defenseless.
“Just promise me you won’t overdo it,” Willa said, her protective instincts clearly warring with her respect for her mother’s independence.
“And don’t expect me to defend you with Aunt Carmen over this. ”
“I’ll be fine,” June promised her daughter.
“Holt and I will make sure your mother doesn’t overdo things,” Tom promised, looking at Holt.
“We’ll take good care of her,” Holt promised, the familiar urge to protect June rising unbidden despite all the years and distance between them.
“Mom, can you please fetch Grace and Becky from the Peltz’s house?” Willa asked June. “I’m going to be tied up for a while.”
“Of course,” June replied. “I’ll also get dinner from Margo’s.”
“Thank you, Mom.” Willa kissed her mother’s cheek. “I have to go.”
“Take care, honey,” June called after Willa as she moved away.
“I’d better go,” June said and turned to smile at Tom and Holt. “I’ll pop into the police station tomorrow to go over the details of the fires.”
“Thank you, June,” Tom said, and was called. “Excuse me.”
When he walked off, Holt turned to June. “I’ll walk you back to your car. It’s quite slippery.”
June laughed, and the sound seemed to echo through his soul as his heart jolted.
“That’s funny. The two injured people helping each other up a slippery slope,” June said.
Holt had to grin at the irony. Physical footing wasn’t the only thing that felt uncertain around June.
Later, Tom gave Holt a lift back to the police station. As they drove back toward town, Tom noticed his son, Clive, coming out of the auto repair shop and talking to the owner.
“Isn’t that Clive?” Holt noted.
“Yes,” Tom said. “And he should be in uniform as he is supposed to be on shift.”
“I think he changed that,” Holt told Tom. “I saw he’d swapped shifts with another officer to get today off.”
“What?” Tom bellowed and drew the vehicle to a stop near where Clive had turned to walk toward the harbor.
He noticed them and changed direction to walk toward them. Tom rolled down his window as the young man approached.
“Hello, father,” Clive said, dipping his head. “Director Dillinger.”
“Hello, Clive,” Holt greeted him.
“Why are you at the body shop?” Tom asked casually.
“Someone backed into me at Henderson’s Farm yesterday,” Clive replied without hesitation. “I was there getting fresh vegetables for the chef. When I came out, somebody had hit my front bumper panel and just taken off.”
“Did you file a police report?” Tom inquired.
Warning bells started going off in Holt’s head, but he pushed them aside, not wanting to believe Clive might’ve hit Lacey’s car. But still, he made a mental note to stop by the auto repair shop later.
“It really didn’t seem worth the hassle,” Clive shrugged. “My insurance will cover it.”
“Why aren’t you on shift?” Tom asked.
“I took the day off,” Clive said. “I needed to get my car taken care of.”
“That was not even an hour’s work,” Tom pointed out.
“I just need time off,” Clive’s voice raised slightly, and his eyes flashed. “Can you get off my back? I’m not even sure I want to be a cop anymore. Especially when my own father refuses to promote me.”
“That wasn’t me,” Tom said through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to argue with you right now. See that you are at work tomorrow or I will suspend you and cut off your credit card.”
Before Clive could reply, Tom pulled off and drove to the police station.
“Why didn’t you promote Clive?” Holt asked.
“He failed the detective’s exam,” Tom answered. “Three times.” He pulled into his parking space and turned off the engine. ‘What’s worse, I think he did it on purpose.’”
They walked into the police station, and before Holt could ask anything else, Rad returned.
“How did it go?” Tom asked Rad.
“I’ve got photographs of the scene, measurements of the skid marks, and samples of the paint transfer from Lacey’s bumper,” Rad reported to Tom. “I’ll get everything logged into evidence and start the report.”
“Good work,” Tom said. “Make sure we flag this as a possible hit-and-run rather than a simple accident.”
As Rad headed into the police station, Holt found himself thinking about the sequence of incidents that had been plaguing Sandpiper Shores.
First, the targeting of emergency personnel, then the fires, and now an attack on Lacey.
One thing they all had in common, well, most of them, was that they were all here ten years ago at the last fatal fire.
The pattern was becoming clearer, and Holt didn’t like what it suggested about the escalating danger facing the people of Sandpiper Shores, pointing to either a copycat or that the real perpetrator was back to finish what they started.
And one vital question burned through Holt’s mind—why now?