Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Claire
I sat at my desk, staring mindlessly at the paperwork in front of me.
It was the worst part of the job.
I’d rather be out on patrol. Heck, I’d even prefer serving warrants.
Or, as was more likely, spending my day trying to convince old Mrs. Haskins to stop calling 911 every time her new neighbor tried to practice his trumpet in his garage.
Even that was better than sitting at a desk.
But when I’d arrived this morning, Sheriff McGrath had told us all to stay put so we could meet Agent Weston when he arrived.
I was going to lose my mind if I had to sit here much longer. And I was still irritated I’d been sent home yesterday, as if I was going to break after one rough night.
Still, when the two of them finally made their entrance, I tried my best to give a better impression than the one I’d likely made on the scene. I stood and put a smile on my face while Sheriff McGrath rambled, attempting to impress Agent Weston with our low crime rates and efficiency.
Mr. Hollywood, to his credit, kept a polite smile on his face, too, even nodding in appreciation as Sheriff McGrath bragged. As if someone who’d shown up in a black leather jacket with a swagger to match hadn’t worked in places a hell of a lot more impressive than our tiny town.
Finally, Sheriff McGrath made the introductions. Seemed a little silly to me, since Agent Weston had already met two of the three of us, but the sheriff seemed intent on us looking extra professional or something.
Trey, of course, jumped forward with his too-eager smile, saying how great it had been to work with Agent Weston the day before. Agent Weston’s face was neutral as he shook Trey’s hand, and he didn’t return the sentiment. Trey was clearly disappointed.
Next, Sheriff McGrath introduced Joseph Castillo, our night shift deputy.
I knew he was ready to get this over with so he could go home and crash.
I hadn’t worked with Joseph much, but I didn’t mind him.
He was a quiet type who kept to himself.
Worked hard, even though he didn’t make the job his whole identity like Trey did.
But he and Trey were buddies, which made me question whether he was a good judge of character.
After Joseph, Sheriff McGrath turned to me.
“And of course you remember Deputy Claire Hawkins. She’s our newest deputy, but she’s served ten years on our county SAR team as one of our most dedicated volunteers.
It’s only thanks to her dedication that those remains were found, and true to character, Deputy Hawkins volunteered to secure the site overnight despite it being her day off. ”
I clasped my hands behind my back, blushing under the unexpected praise. Trey’s nostrils flared with irritation, while Joseph shot me a congratulatory smile.
Agent Weston’s face remained neutral, but those piercing blue eyes studied me. He said nothing. Just a nod of acknowledgment before turning to Sheriff McGrath. “I know the remains were found outside the city limits. But does Wildwood have a local police department?”
Sheriff McGrath turned red and let out an awkward chuckle.
“Unfortunately, no. Not anymore. We had a small one—a chief and two officers. But they all decided to quit at the same time over low pay. Thought they’d be able to get a raise if they walked out together, but it didn’t work out that way.
Right now, it’s just us handling things, sometimes with support from state on traffic patrol. ”
“Things are usually pretty quiet around here, I’m guessing?” Agent Weston asked.
Sheriff McGrath nodded. “Usually.” He opened his mouth like he was going to say more but glanced at me and stopped.
I knew what he was thinking. Things hadn’t been quiet at all lately. When Rhett had come back to town, not everyone had been happy about it, and we’d had the kind of drama—and danger—that this town hadn’t experienced in decades.
But that didn’t fit the impression the sheriff was obviously trying to give concerning his tenure. He clamped his lips, straightened, and addressed the room instead.
“Listen up, everyone. I’ve asked Agent Weston to take point on this investigation.
Wyoming DCI has more resources and experience with this kind of thing than we do.
Besides that, we need to prepare for a potential influx of people in the community after the news breaks.
If it turns out that this is, in fact, Katelyn Brown, Agent Weston has said we’ll likely have reporters, podcasters, and more flocking to this area.
He’s right. We’ll need to be prepared for it. ”
Trey leaned back against his desk, rolling his eyes. “Yep. Watch all the wannabe investigators drive up here, looking for their fifteen minutes of fame. Don’t these people know they should stay out of the way so we can do our jobs?”
Agent Weston’s eyes narrowed. I wondered if he was thinking about some of the cold cases that had recently been solved by “wannabe investigators” who had refused to give up even when law enforcement was forced to switch gears.
There had even been cases solved by SAR teams. My own friends from another county had put in countless unpaid hours in order to bring a victim home—and a killer to justice.
But whatever Agent Weston was thinking, he didn’t reveal it, even as his eyes flicked to me.
Sheriff McGrath sighed, giving Trey an annoyed look. “Well, like I was saying. Thanks to the help of DCI, we’ll be able to focus on keeping our town running smoothly. But I’d like to partner one of you with Agent Weston to assist him and to keep us in the loop.”
Joseph moved backward and looked away, clearly hoping someone else would get picked.
I didn’t blame him. But I knew he didn’t have anything to worry about.
Trey, much as I disliked him, was the obvious choice.
And by the way Trey straightened, putting on a confident smile as he smoothed out the front of his uniform shirt, I figured he and Sheriff McGrath had already decided the whole thing.
Sheriff McGrath cleared his throat, then turned his gaze toward me. “Claire, you’re the one who found our victim. I’d like you to work with Agent Weston and see this through.”
My eyes widened. I wasn’t sure who was more surprised—me, or Trey, whose head had jerked back in shock.
Or Mr. Hollywood, for that matter, whose face finally revealed a genuine emotion. I tried not to be offended that he was as shocked as the rest of us.
I filled my cheeks up with air and blew it out slowly, not realizing how ridiculous it must look—until Joseph stifled a laugh and looked away.
My face burned with embarrassment. “Of course. Thank you, sir.” Then I turned to Agent Weston, attempting to be professional. “I look forward to working with you.”
The words were a lie, and the twist of his lips told me he knew it.
I sat across from Agent Weston in the glorified closet Sheriff McGrath had repurposed as an office for him, tapping my pen on my thigh as he leisurely flipped through a file.
We’d been in here for ten minutes and the man hadn’t said a word.
He’d merely gestured at the empty seat in front of his desk as I followed him in.
Then he tossed his jacket on the desk, took his place behind it, and started reading without even acknowledging my presence.
I disliked him already.
This was Wildwood, Wyoming. We were friendly here—or at least tried to be.
Most of us, anyway.
But he had waltzed in here with his shiny leather and his sharp eyes and acted like he owned the place. Hadn’t even bothered to speak to me since I’d been assigned as his partner. Hell, he hadn’t even looked up from that file. Every minute that ticked by made me want to crawl out of my skin.
Sitting in silence, with nothing to do, was even worse than being stuck on desk duty with paperwork.
I tapped the pen faster, staring at him with narrowed eyes until he finally looked up.
He gave me a placid stare back. “Yes?”
I raised my hands helplessly. “Do you have an assignment for me? Something you need me to research or someone I should go talk to? Or am I just supposed to sit here, grateful for the privilege of watching you?”
Speaking to a superior like that was way out of line. But sitting quietly for so long had used up all my willpower, and I’d never mastered the art of biting my tongue when I was pissed off.
He smirked. “There will be plenty of work to do, I’m sure. How about you start by getting me a coffee?”
Oh, hell no.
I sat back, putting my hands flat on the arms of the chair, and gave him a death stare. “How about you get your own damn coffee?”
Half of his mouth twitched in a smile before his gaze dropped back to the papers in front of him.
Another four minutes passed without either of us saying a word. Four excruciating minutes of silence that had me contemplating all of my life choices.
He had to be punishing me on purpose. No one naturally stayed quiet for that long.
I finally cleared my throat and started to speak, but he held up a single finger in a gesture to be quiet. I crossed my arms and scowled.
“Finished,” he said, closing the file and tossing it onto his desk so that it slid my way. “Sheriff McGrath gave me that when I got here. It’s the missing persons report on Katelyn Brown, sent over from Laramie PD. You should familiarize yourself with it.”
I grabbed it.
“I was serious about needing coffee,” he said, standing. “I’m going to get a cup. Do you want one?”
I looked up in surprise. He was offering to get me coffee? After I’d smarted off to him?
Was this a trap? I should say no.
Coffee though… It was too tempting. My skin hummed just thinking about it. “Um, sure. Thanks.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “How do you take it?”
“Black.”
A nod of approval. “I’ll be right back.”
I stared as he disappeared down the hallway, wondering if I had misjudged him. But then I remembered him putting me through almost twenty minutes of silence in his office and decided I hadn’t.
He was still a prick.
It took Agent Weston half an hour to return—much longer than it took me to read the file. When he did, he held two purple cups from the coffee shop down the street. He came in and handed me one, then took the seat at his desk.
“Why’d you go all the way there?” I asked. “We have coffee in the breakroom.”
“One, because breakroom coffee isn’t usually very good. Two, because it gave me a chance to meet people and check out a local spot.”
“Alright,” I said, accepting his explanation. “But just so you know, our coffee here is great. Andrea makes it, and she buys the good stuff. Plus, it won’t cost you an arm and a leg every time you need a cup.”
“Maybe next time. Did you read the file while I was gone?”
“Yes.” Twice. With time to spare. But I managed to keep my irritation to myself.
“Any thoughts?”
I took a sip of the coffee, annoyed that it really was better than what we had in the breakroom. “Yeah. I think they didn’t work very hard to find her.”
“I figured you’d say that, being a SAR operative.” He leaned back in his chair, giving me that half grin of his as he gestured for me to hand him the file.
When I did, he opened it and began repeating the facts.
“Katelyn Brown was an adult—age nineteen. Voluntary disappearance. Last seen March thirteenth of this year. Last known location was at a gas station outside of Casper on the same night she left Laramie. She was alone. No suspicious circumstances.” He looked up at me, a challenge in his eyes.
I nodded and picked up where he’d left off. “She got into an argument with an ex-boyfriend at a college party. Went back to the apartment she shared with a roommate, packed a bag, told the roommate she was done with college, and left.”
“Security camera footage confirmed the roommate’s story,” he went on. “Katelyn showed up at the apartment visibly angry. Left half an hour later with a bag. Drove her own vehicle away.” He looked up at me, watching for a reaction.
I didn’t give him one.
So he continued. “She left her cell phone behind at the dorm, so no way to track her with it. But they got a hit on her credit card that night at the gas station south of Casper. Security camera footage showed her alone, in her own vehicle. No further hits after that.
“Police contacted her mother, her friends, her job—all known contacts. Her mother said it wasn’t the first time she’d run away.
Said she had a long history of being emotionally volatile and would usually show up on her own at some point.
Katelyn’s picture went out on the news and social media. There weren’t any credible leads.”
He looked up and gave me a pointed stare as he closed the file and put it on his desk. “So what, exactly, would you have had them do differently?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“But you think they didn’t do enough to find her?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Maybe. I don’t know. It just goes against everything inside me to give up on a search.”
He cocked his head. “That’s understandable. But I imagine everyone you’ve searched for has been anxious for you to find them.”
“Something horrible happened to Katelyn. You don’t think she wanted someone to help bring her home, too?”
“We don’t have confirmation that the remains you found are Katelyn—”
“It’s her,” I said firmly. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did.
There was something in his eyes that almost— almost —looked like approval. “Maybe. But back to the file. Did anything strike you as odd?”
The fact that he’d asked meant he thought so. But nothing stood out to me.
When I didn’t answer, he filled in the blanks. “What nineteen-year-old girl heads out on a trip and leaves her cell phone behind?”
And I finally understood what he was getting at.
Maybe Katelyn Brown hadn’t wanted to be found.