He shrugged. “Cops send people to prison. It’s their job.”
Bree changed course. “Oscar didn’t tell you Kenny was out of prison?” She waited. The silence dragged out for a few heartbeats, but Dylan didn’t answer.
She phrased her next question carefully. “Did Kenny have any reason to hold a grudge against Oscar?”
“You just told me that Oscar put him in jail, so I would think so.” Dylan tried to sound casual, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. “But you should ask him. I thought you were some kind of big-city detective. Did you get that job because you were a female too? The governor appointed you. Wait until you actually have to run for office. No one will actually vote for you.”
Bree didn’t let him change the subject. She got to the point. “Did you plant those drugs in Kenny’s car?”
Dylan’s posture snapped straight. “Fuck off.”
No denial. Lots of anger. So that’s a straight-up yes.
Matt shifted his weight, as if he’d also lost patience with the lies and evasion. “Did Kenny really shove Oscar? Or did Oscar make that up?”
Dylan said nothing. He just glared back at them, hatred simmering in his eyes.
“Oscar is dead, Dylan,” Matt said. “He can’t get into trouble.”
But Dylan can, thought Bree. Dylan had testified at Kenny’s trial. He’d knowingly sent a man to prison on fake charges. He could be prosecuted for perjury and falsifying evidence. Kenny said his lawyer was trying to establish a pattern with Dylan and Oscar. Kenny could sue in civil court. Dylan and Oscar had ruined his life.
“I won’t let you ruin his reputation or mine.” Dylan leaned forward, his chin jutting out, his chest puffed. He was trying to look arrogant and self-righteous, but it was all naked bluster.
Bree tossed out her final question. “What do you know about the Hudson Footmen?”
Dylan snapped, “If you don’t have a warrant, get the fuck off my property, both of you.”
“I’d like your contact information in case I have any more questions. Can I have your cell number?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t have one. Why would I have a device that lets the government track my every move? Now get out of here and don’t come back or I’ll sue you for harassment.”
With no real options, Bree and Matt walked back to the SUV. On her way back, she caught a glimpse of movement in the window of the house. The silhouette was female. With daylight reflecting off the glass, Bree couldn’t make out her features. The figure backed away from the window.
Bree slid behind the wheel. “Someone’s watching.”
Matt closed the passenger door. “I saw her.”
“Could you get a description?” She started the engine.
“No. Too dark.”
Bree shifted into reverse. “Definitely a woman, though?”
“Yes.”
As she began turning the vehicle around, she glanced through the windshield. Dylan hadn’t moved. Bree’s gaze went to the window. No sign of the woman. “Do you think he was lying?”
“Yes.” Matt scoffed. “About so many things.”
“He knew who Kenny was.”
“Absolutely,” Matt agreed. “He was also lying when he said Oscar hadn’t contacted him recently.”
“Yep, and when he denied having a cell phone.”
“He probably uses burners,” Matt said. “He’s definitely part of the Hudson Footmen, but he doesn’t want to talk about them.”
“Interesting that was the final straw for him. Maybe there’s some fear there.”
“Maybe. I wouldn’t trust anything Dylan said. Everything he said felt like a lie.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Matt’s stomach rumbled as they neared the station. He spotted a fast-food place. “Can you go through the drive-through? We need food.”
“I’m not hungry.” Bree turned into the parking lot.
“I’m starving, and you need food whether or not you want it.”
“Fine.” She pulled into the drive-through and lowered the window. The smell of french fries wafted into the vehicle.
Matt heard Bree’s stomach audibly gurgle. He ordered two grilled chicken wraps for himself. Bree went for a burger, fries, and a vanilla milkshake. She passed him the bag, and he handed over her food. She ate the burger in a half dozen bites, then made quick work of the fries.
“It’s a shame you weren’t hungry.” Matt dug into his second wrap.
“OK. I admit that was really good.” Bree crumpled the burger wrapper into a ball and stuffed it into the empty bag. Grabbing her shake from the cup holder, she drank. “The sugar will keep me from going into a grease-and-fat coma.”
“Interesting theory.”
“I’ll eat a salad tomorrow.”
“You won’t.”
“Probably not,” she admitted. Bree called home to let them know she’d be late. After ending the call, she said, “At least I had breakfast with the kids. I hate when I can’t put them first.”
“You always put them first,” Matt corrected. “But some days, they don’t have pressing needs, and the job does. When was the last time you missed dinner?”
“Yesterday,” Bree said.
“Before yesterday.” He knew she struggled with balancing work and family.
“It’s been a while,” she said. “The last couple of months have been nice and boring.”
Cops typically spent more time on paperwork than working homicide cases.
“You’re doing a great job with the kids.”
Bree sighed. “With Kayla, I don’t have to juggle her desire for independence with parenting yet. As a teen, Luke is more challenging. He’s annoyed with me for not allowing him to go camping with his friends.” Bree described the proposed trip.
“On the bright side, he’s acting like a normal teenager,” Matt said. “He’s secure enough in your relationship to get mad at you.”
“I guess. But he’s right. When an important case comes up, I do work too much. Sometimes I think I’m setting the exact wrong example when I work these crazy long hours. I hate choosing between the job and the family. I always feel like I’m letting someone down.”
“You’re teaching them about working hard, following through on responsibilities, and being passionate about their work.”
“I hope their passions don’t involve dead bodies.”
They arrived at the sheriff’s station. Twenty minutes later, Matt carried a mug of coffee and a notepad into the conference room and sat at the table. Bree was already inside, opening her laptop at the head of the table. Todd hustled in, carrying a computer, the murder book, and some loose files.
Bree tapped on her keyboard. “We don’t have the forensics report yet, but it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since they finished processing the scene. So far, we have the following persons of interest: Bernard Crighton, Heather Oscar, Kenny McPherson, and Brian Dylan. Todd, where are you in reviewing their personal information?”
“Can we start with Bernard Crighton?” The light in Todd’s eyes suggested he’d found something.
Bree rolled a hand in the air. “Sure.”
Matt checked his notes. “Bernard doesn’t have an alibi.”
“Any recent purchases of black nylon paracord?” Bree asked.
Todd opened a file. “Not on his credit card statements.”
“Motive?” Bree asked.
Todd opened his laptop and scrolled. “Money. He says he doesn’t need any, but he’s not exactly rolling in cash. His house is mortgaged, and he took out a second mortgage to send his youngest daughter to law school. Plus, the neighbor, Homer, said Bernard asked Camilla for money recently and she turned him down.”
Bree looked thoughtful. “I saw no sign of extravagance in his home. Where does he spend his money?”
“For the last few months, he’s paid two large sums of money to his son-in-law, Leonard Holmes,” Todd said. “Leonard is married to Bernard’s oldest daughter, Shannon.”
Matt leaned back in his chair. “Do we know what the money was for?”
“No.” Todd checked his papers. “The payments are significant. Over two hundred thousand in total. He depleted what was left of his savings.”
Bree frowned. “We need more information.”
“Does Bernard have any handguns registered to him?” Matt asked.
“No,” Todd said.