At the sound of voices, I rise, and I’m halfway up when my swinging flashlight beam catches something in the hole. Fabric. I lean in to see a hat of some kind. It must have fallen off Conrad when he stumbled. Just before the second blow.
I use a stick to pull it up without touching it. Since I’ve already, you know, touched the damn murder weapon. As I lift the hat, I frown. I’ve seen it before. A dark gray baseball cap that honestly doesn’t look like anything I can imagine Conrad wearing. The man is really more the fedora type.
The killer lost their hat? Buried it with the body? Oh, that would be too good. The ultimate half-assed murder.
There’s an insignia on the front. I shine my light as I twist the baseball cap on the stick.
It’s a Canadian military hat. One I know very well, because I bought it as a joke. That’s why this cap seemed so familiar.
It belongs to Will Anders.
THIRTEEN
April and Dalton have come, with Jacob leading the way and two militia members following. April does an onsite assessment and declares Conrad fit for transport. The militia and Jacob carry him on the stretcher, with April keeping watch over her patient. As they leave, Dalton sets up a battery-operated floodlight for me to process the scene. When he turns, I’m holding Anders’s baseball cap in one gloved hand.
“I found this in the grave,” I say.
“Fuck.” He sighs and throws up his hands. “Well, that’s it. Case solved. I’ll go arrest Will.”
“Funny man.” I lift the cap higher. “Though I might be tempted to actually laugh if I wasn’t rolling my eyes hard enough to hurt. Is this actually supposed to incriminate Will? When he was with you at the time of the murder? With you the entire evening?”
“We aren’t dealing with a criminal genius,” he says, taking out my camera. “Although, to be fair, given the inexact science of determining time of death, it would have opened up a window of doubt if we didn’t know exactly when Conrad died.”
“One would hope that Will, being a police deputy, wouldn’t let his baseball cap fall into the shallow grave as he’s burying the body.”
“Still reasonable doubt.”
“Agreed, which is why I wasn’t waving it in front of the others.” I look up at Dalton. “I do not want to suppress evidence, Eric. In an actual investigation, police keep lots of things from the public to help us narrow down suspects and weed out crackpots. Up here, it’s not as if I publicly report every finding, but this…”
“If we don’t mention it—and residents find out—they’ll scream cover-up, even if you’ve noted the cap and filed it as evidence.”
“Yep. And even if you and I agree this doesn’t introduce an iota of reasonable doubt, given Will’s ironclad alibi.”
“The guy providing that alibi is his boss and his friend. I can say he’s been with me all evening, except for a two-minute piss break, and they’ll argue he managed to attack Conrad then. Or that I’m outright lying.”
“I don’t want to put this burden on you.”
“I’m the sheriff. It’s my call. And my call is…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck. My call is that we can’t be accused of covering it up. I’m not walking back to town waving that hat over my head, but it needs to go out in a public message.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I just suggested you do one of those damn statements.”
“It’s the only way to handle it. Full statement first thing tomorrow about what happened to Conrad, and as part of that, I will mention the baseball cap. You will alibi Will. Before any of that happens, Will needs to be warned and we need to figure out where the baseball cap came from. Presumably the break-in.”
“Which is awkward when we think Conrad did that.”
“He could have brought it along as a souvenir. Showing off for whoever he was meeting. Or whoever summoned him was his accomplice that night. Or it was stolen later, when we had Will’s house open as a crime scene. Our best bet, though?”
“Hoping Conrad wakes up to identify his attacker?”
“Yep.”
* * *
We set Storm on the would-be killer’s trail. She follows it back to town, where she loses it in the web of scents. I wish I could ask her whether it’s the same scent as the one at the break-in. If there’s a way of doing that, we haven’t trained for it. Another thing to add to my endless list.
We warn Anders next. He’s shaken, more than we were. To me, it’s a truly eye-rolling frame-up job. To him, though, a killer has actively tried to pin a murder on him.
The last time he wore the baseball cap was a week ago. Since then, it’s been in his front closet with all his outerwear. After the break-in, he checked valuables, but he didn’t look through his clothing or other everyday items.
We stop in at the clinic next. Yes, Anders was our priority, and I will feel no guilt about that. Conrad is in my sister’s hands, and he couldn’t receive better care.
I walk into the clinic. Dalton peeks over my shoulder, sees Diana there and murmurs that he’ll meet me back at the station. I’m sure he’s retreating because four people in the tiny room is too much, but yes, if he doesn’t need to deal with Diana, they’re both happier for it.
My sister is busy with Conrad, who’s unconscious on the table.
Diana slides over and murmurs, “I haven’t had time to talk to you in person lately. How’s Will doing?”
Anders and Diana had a one-night stand shortly after she arrived. She’d hoped for more, and when it didn’t materialize, she’d blamed me—I must have said something to Anders or batted my lashes and lured him away. That is Diana.
Is it more accurate to say that was Diana? I think so. She’s changed. I know that if she hadn’t, we wouldn’t be the semi-friends we are today. We’ll never be best friends again. I came to recognize the toxicity of our fifteen-year friendship and decided I deserved better. She’s given me better, and I must acknowledge that.
“Will’s managing,” I say.
“In other words, he’s as well as can be expected. If there’s anything I can do to help…”
“Just stay on his side. Please.”
She nods. “I’m there. Always. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Are you two done chitchatting?” April says as she prepares an IV for Conrad. “If you aren’t, I’ll ask you to leave, Casey. I require my nurse’s full attention.”
“I’m your nurse now?” Diana says. “Can I get that in writing?”
“Certainly. As soon as you can provide your nursing degree. Now, do you think you can help me with this, Diana?”
“That depends. Two minutes ago you shooed me away.”
Diana brings the IV tube over to April. Diana’s nursing background comprised one summer when we’d both been candy stripers. My parents had insisted I take the job, still holding out hope of a medical career for me. As for Diana, she just wanted to meet cute interns.