“It might not be illegal, but it’s definitely unethical to channel county money to your boyfriend.” Jager adjusted an earring. Personal grooming was a sign of stress. She wasn’t as confident about her accusations as she was pretending to be. Jager was a lot of bluster. Unfortunately, in politics, bluster was very effective.
“Matt is a former deputy.” Bree nodded toward him. “He was a seasoned investigator long before I came to Randolph County. There is no one who doubts his expertise. We only call him in when we have a case too complex for me to handle solo. I have too many other responsibilities to be able to dedicate my time one hundred percent to any one investigation. Since there’s no room in the budget for a dedicated detective, by using Matt on a case-by-case basis, we save the county a significant amount of money.”
“That is not how the board sees it.” The muscles of Jager’s face shifted as if she were trying to say something but couldn’t decide on the right words. “You have a conflict of interest with your current investigation.”
“Do I?” Bree asked.
“You knew the victim.” Jager’s frustration all but seeped from her pores.
“This is a small town.” Bree lifted a shoulder. “Everyone knows everyone.”
“He used to work for you.” Jager pushed: “You forced him out.”
“That is true,” Bree acknowledged. “Which puts me in the unique position of having background knowledge of one of the victims.”
“I heard he was the one who published the pornographic pictures of you,” Jager said, her tone smug.
Bree shouldn’t have been surprised. Leaks happened. “We didn’t know that until the day after the bodies were discovered.”
“Prove it.” Jager pushed away from the table.
Bree’s face tightened, showing the first chink in her defense. “How do I prove I didn’t know something? It’s not possible.”
“Well, then . . .” Jager trailed off, as if she’d made her point. “Mr. Crighton and his attorney have alleged that you are targeting him as the prime suspect for his sister’s murder to distract from your own potential guilt.”
“In that regard, now that certain facts have come to light about Eugene Oscar’s life, I’ve decided we’re too close to the investigation. I’ve already called on BCI to take the case. I don’t know which detective will be assigned, but I’m sure you can find out. Someone from the Albany office is en route to pick up the files.”
Jager opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She hadn’t expected that.
The door opened. Marge stood in the opening. “Sheriff, I need to see you. Now.”
“We’re in a meeting,” Jager protested.
“Excuse me.” Ignoring the supervisor, Bree hurried around the table and out the door. It closed with a solid thump.
Matt stared at Jager, letting the uncomfortable silence hover for two long minutes. She glared back at him for a few seconds. Then one of them broke eye contact, and it wasn’t Matt. Jager checked her phone. Then Bree pushed the door open and motioned for him. “We have to go.”
Jager leaped to her feet. “You can’t blow me off.”
Bree ignored her. Matt met her gaze. She was wearing her cop face. Only someone who knew her well would read the worry in her eyes. He rose and headed for the door, leaving the county supervisor sputtering, “I’ve never been treated so rudely.”
Bree craned her head to peer around him. “Ms. Jager, I apologize for cutting our discussion short. You can schedule another meeting with my administrator.” She pivoted on her heel. Matt followed her out of the station.
“There’s a fire at the vacant farm next to my place. The responding deputy says there’s a message for me. Fire department has been called.” She rushed across the blacktop and jumped into her SUV.
Matt slid into the passenger seat and buckled his belt. Flipping on the light bar and siren, Bree stomped on the gas pedal and sped out of the parking lot.
“I’d better call Dana.” Bree used her hands-free setting. After Dana answered, Bree said, “There’s a fire next door.”
Dana paused, then said, “I’m looking out the window. I see a thin plume of smoke. Nothing crazy.”
“Is Luke back from his ride?” Bree asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll check the barn. Hold on.” After a brief pause, Dana said, “He’s not back. I’m going out to look for him. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Same.” Bree ended the call. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel until the knuckles went white. The tires squealed as the vehicle took a turn fast.
Matt grabbed the armrest as the SUV leaned through a curve in the road. Bree cut several minutes off the short drive by pushing the SUV to its limits. As they neared the farm, they could see black smoke rising into the air. Bree slowed, then turned into the driveway. A patrol vehicle was already parked on the grass. Bree pulled up next to it.
Fifty feet in front of the vehicles, a bonfire burned on the front lawn. Matt stared through the windshield. “Why would someone set a bonfire?”
“If it were winter, I’d say to keep warm, but it’s seventy-five degrees today.”
“Some people just like to destroy things. Others just like fire.” Matt scanned the property. The barn was huge and falling down. Beyond it, empty fields rolled into the distance. There was a huge garage as well, and a silo. “What kind of farm was this?”
“They grew corn and wheat, kept chickens, raised the occasional steer or pig for meat. I only met them a handful of times before they went bankrupt.”
Matt noted the knee-high weeds around the foundation and heavy graffiti on the barn and house. “How long has the place been empty?”
“A few months,” Bree said.
Matt focused on the house and froze. It was a two-story white building, a stereotypical farmhouse, complete with a wrap-around porch. A tree had fallen onto the porch roof. The words FUCK SHERIFF TAGGERT had been painted across the front of the house. “I guess that’s the personal message.”
Bree sighed. “Looks like it.”
Matt squinted at the windows of the house. Then he turned toward the barn, looking for potential snipers. “Feels like a trap.”
“Yep.” Bree grabbed the radio mic and reported her arrival on scene to dispatch before stepping out of the vehicle.
Matt got out and closed the passenger door. Warm wind sent dead leaves tumbling across the cracked grass.
Juarez walked over. He was one of the newer deputies in her small department. He’d finished his field training and was out on solo patrol, but he had only about a month of real experience. He still sported an academy buzz that made him look like one of the cast of 21 Jump Street.
“What’s the situation?” Bree asked.
“Fire department is on the way.” Juarez pointed to the message for Bree. “I thought you’d want to see it.” The red-and-white lights from the roof of his patrol car swirled on his face, highlighting the tension in his features.
Bree scrutinized the area. Matt did the same. The bonfire appeared to have been built from broken boards taken from the partially collapsed front porch. Sections had been ripped out of the steps. Vines covered the foundation. Reachable windows had been boarded up, but several sheets of plywood had been pried off and tossed aside.
There were a dozen locations someone could watch them from without them knowing. A creepy sensation crawled up his spine.
“Have you checked the property?” Bree asked.
“No, ma’am.” Juarez flushed. “I wanted to wait for backup.”
“Smart.” Bree nodded her approval. “This situation has the potential to be an ambush.”
Juarez’s tanned throat shifted as he swallowed. Another sheriff’s vehicle drove up, and a deputy stepped out.
Matt shrugged into his vest and retrieved Bree’s rifle from the back of the vehicle. He couldn’t shoot a handgun to his satisfaction with his off hand, but his aim with a long gun was still excellent. “House, barn, or garage first?”
“We’ll take them left to right: barn, house, garage.” She started toward the barn. Juarez followed at her heels. Matt brought up the rear. They jogged across the grass toward the barn. The double doors were open, and they could see into the big, empty space. Except for two small pens, the space appeared to have been used to store large equipment.