Truman briefed him on the fight and fake license. “I want them locked up until they’re coherent.”
Samuel nodded. “Will do. I got this one.” He grabbed Clint’s arm and easily hauled him to his feet. “This way, princess.” The two men disappeared out the door.
Ryan sat silently, his head down, still swaying. Truman hoped he wouldn’t puke in the back seat when he drove him in.
“Nice job.” Owen approached and shook Truman’s hand.
“Thanks.” The simple fact that Owen approved of Truman’s police work was a big sign of the change in Mercy’s brother. He’d been suspicious of police and government all his life. Enough to make him rub shoulders with a growing militia several months ago. He’d learned from his mistake and had grudgingly also accepted his sister as a federal officer.
“I heard Joshua Forbes will be arraigned tomorrow,” Owen commented, his words casual but his eyes alert as he studied Truman.
“I heard that too,” said Brick.
“Word travels fast.”
“He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed,” added Owen.
“I noticed that,” said Truman. “You know him well?”
Owen shrugged. “Everyone knows the Forbeses.”
“Not me.”
“They try to stay under the radar,” said Owen. “His dad had a few run-ins with the courts and police back in the day. He’s in a wheelchair now, and that’s reined him in. But Joshua seems to be following in his footsteps.”
Brick nodded. “Right here in this bar, I’ve overheard him try to convince people about the straw man theory. He’s pretty fervent in his beliefs.”
“People fall for it?” asked Truman.
“Hard to say,” answered Brick. “It’s easy to get people’s attention when you tell them they’re not legally obligated to pay taxes and that the government actually owes them money. Making the life change is a difficult commitment, but sometimes people are just hungry and desperate for answers. No taxes sounds like heaven.”
“Have you seen these?” Truman showed Owen and Brick the fake diplomatic license. “I’d like to find the supplier.”
Owen grinned. “You arrested the supplier the other day.”
“Joshua Forbes made it?” Truman was surprised.
“Yep. Sells them too,” said Brick. “Makes a pretty penny, I believe.”
Truman nudged Ryan with his boot. “Is that who your brother got this from? Joshua Forbes?”
Ryan wobbled and nearly tipped over. “I don’t know where he got it. He doesn’t tell me shit, and he’s an idiot for carrying it around.”
Truman scowled, wondering if he could get forgery added to the charges against Joshua Forbes. “Glad to hear you weren’t sucked into this scam, Owen.”
Mercy’s brother looked grim. “I stay away from big talkers now. Besides, everyone knows those aren’t legal. Well, everyone but the sovereign citizens who want to believe.”
“Good.”
Ryan suddenly fell to one side and moaned. Truman jumped backward as the man vomited where Truman’s boots had been a split second earlier.
Truman’s stomach heaved at the odor, and Brick cursed like the professional wrestler he’d been.
Better here than in my vehicle.
TEN
Two miles away from the scene at the Hartlage house, Mercy parked at the closest neighbor’s home. Kenneth Forbes’s house strongly resembled the Hartlages’, but there was a long ramp to the front door. An ancient sedan without license plates sat beside the home, weeds growing around its tires.
Does he live alone?
Earlier a deputy had briefly visited Kenneth Forbes, returned to the Hartlage crime scene, and reported that Forbes believed Corrine Hartlage’s brother had lived in the home with the family, but didn’t know his name.
“What else did he tell you?” Mercy had asked the deputy. “When did Mr. Forbes see them last? Has he been by the farm recently?”
The deputy had looked at his feet and shuffled them. “He wasn’t very cooperative, ma’am. And he’s disabled. I didn’t want to pressure him.”
Mercy had exchanged a look with Detective Bolton. The deputy was very young. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Forbes,” Mercy stated.
Still in her vehicle, Mercy looked at the cat, who’d curled up on the passenger seat and gone immediately to sleep. I thought cats hated cars.
Should I stop at a pet shelter?
If a Hartlage relative wanted the cat, leaving it at a shelter could lead to a hot mess. Mercy decided she’d keep it until they heard if anyone was interested in it.
I’ll tell Kaylie up front that it might leave.
As Mercy got out of her vehicle, the front door opened, and a man in a wheelchair appeared.
“Mr. Forbes?” Mercy stopped ten feet from the ramp.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick. I’m investigating your missing neighbors and could really use your help.”
The man gave a short laugh. “Help? Do I look like I can help anyone? You’re just here to ask more questions. I already told that other policeman all I know.”
Kenneth Forbes appeared to be in his midfifties. His short hair was salt and pepper, and his face was well weathered and lined. Even at this distance, Mercy could see his eyes were a piercing blue. Anger radiated from him.
“Did you know the girls, Alison and Amy? There’s a lot of blood in their room, and it appears they’ve been missing for months.” Mercy lobbed the loaded question at the man. If missing children didn’t affect him, he wasn’t human.
He was silent for five seconds. “Blood?”
“Yes. In all the bedrooms. The house hasn’t been lived in for a long time, but their belongings are still there.”
His cheeks tightened as he flexed his jaw, and he spun his wheelchair around. “Come in then,” he said over his shoulder.
It wasn’t the welcome she’d hoped for, but she’d take it.
The home was extremely plain inside, with wide paths for his wheelchair. He motioned for her to sit in an old easy chair by the front door. He maneuvered his wheelchair so he could face her, crossed his hands in his lap, and looked at her expectantly, his eyes still hard. “What do you need to know?”
No coffee. No tea. No small talk.
“When did you see any of them last?”
He grimaced. “I’m not sure. Last summer, I guess. And that was just passing them on the road.”
“But they’re your closest neighbor.”
“No, I’m their closest neighbor. My son lives a quarter mile away from me.” He frowned. “Just because I live near someone doesn’t make us friends. I didn’t need anything from them, so I rarely interacted with them. Are they dead?”
Mercy blinked at his bluntness. “We don’t know.”
“You said there was blood.”
“I did. But we didn’t find any bodies there.”
“Why does the FBI care about a missing family? Shouldn’t this be handled by the sheriff?”
“Missing children are always our business,” Mercy stated firmly. “Did you know the children?”
“I’ve seen them.”
Mercy waited.
“I’ve never talked to either one.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t even know their names if you hadn’t said them. I’ve only spoken with Richard. He told me his wife’s brother was living with them, and I got the impression he wasn’t very happy about the intrusion.”
“But you don’t know his name either?”
“No, but I’ve seen him once or twice.”
“Was the brother Asian?”
Kenneth gave her a confused look. “No. Why on earth would he be Asian?”
“Just following up on a possible lead.”
Who is the Asian skull?
“Do you know who can tell me more about this family?” she asked.
He looked beyond her, scratching his chin. “Maybe my son. If he’s met them, I’m unaware of it, but he is the next-closest neighbor.”
“Do you live alone?” Mercy asked curiously.
Defensiveness filled his face. “I do. My son brings my groceries and helps me out.”
“I noticed the car out front.”
“Haven’t taken it out since my accident ten years ago. Thrown from a horse.”
“I’m very sorry,” Mercy said awkwardly. His anger had returned during the statement.
“Me too. Fucking hate this chair.” The bitterness in the room was suffocating.