Bree joined him in the driveway. They stood together in front of Todd’s vehicle.
“We went to the gun range last night, talked to Jim Rogers.” Matt thought back over the conversation. “Maybe someone saw us and didn’t like it.”
Bree surveyed the front yard and surrounding forest. “Or didn’t like something else he was working on. We have been stirring things up.”
“That’s the job, right?” Matt imagined Todd pulling into his driveway. “Todd gets out of his vehicle and heads up the driveway.”
“Someone comes out of the woods and jumps him.”
Matt eyed the trampled grass next to the driveway. “More than one person.”
“He would have fought back.”
Matt nodded. “Todd’s no slouch in a fight. He would have left marks on anyone who jumped him.”
“Forensics will collect blood samples. Maybe some of it is from his attackers.” Bree held up the evidence bag. “One of them lost a watch.”
Matt held out his hand, and she dropped the evidence bag into it. He turned the watch over and examined the back. “There’s an engraved inscription.” He tilted it for better light. “AD EOW 6/16/1983.”
They looked at each other.
“EOW,” Matt repeated.
“End of watch.” Bree’s mouth turned down at the corners. “A memorial for a fallen officer.”
And Matt knew. “AD is Arthur Dylan.”
“Let me guess.” Bree’s brows dropped in fierce intensity. “That was Brian Dylan’s father.”
Matt handed her the evidence bag, whipped out his cell phone, and called Marge.
“Did you find Todd?” she asked immediately on answering.
“Not yet. Do you know the date Deputy Arthur Dylan was killed in the line of duty? It was in the ’80s.”
“Hold on. It’s engraved on the plaque in the hallway.” Her breaths quickened as she rushed through the station. She wheezed. “June 16, 1983.”
“Thanks.”
“Matt, find him,” Marge pleaded.
“We intend to.” Matt lowered the phone and turned to Bree. “You heard?”
“I did.” Bree was already headed toward her vehicle. “Dylan grabbed Todd, but why?”
As they approached the driveway, Cady stepped forward. Her face was pale, making her freckles stand out. “Well?”
Matt slipped his phone back into his pocket. “We think he was taken away in a vehicle.”
“Oh, no!” Cady hugged her own waist.
“We’re going to find him,” Matt said with more conviction than he felt. Would they find him alive or dead? But damn, his sister did not need any more stress in her life.
The line between Cady’s brows deepened. “Do you want me to take Brody home?”
Matt glanced back at his dog. “No. I might need him.” Dylan’s property was extensive. But if Todd was there, Brody would find him.
“I have a portable bowl and some kibble.” She ran to her minivan and took a tote bag from the back seat. Returning, she thrust it at him. “I’ll leave them with you in case you need it.”
“You saved me a trip home.” The day was bound to be long. Matt didn’t mind missing meals but wouldn’t allow his dog to go hungry. “Thanks.” He kissed his sister’s cheek. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Nodding, she turned and went back to her van, her steps dragging.
A deputy came running from across the street. “Bingo. The neighbor has a camera on his vehicles. There have been break-ins lately. Last night, starting at 10:06, a pickup truck loaded with men drove past Chief Deputy Harvey’s house three times.”
“Tell me you could see the license plate,” Bree said.
The deputy’s eyes gleamed. “Got it. The vehicle belongs to Shane Bartholomew. He lives in Grey’s Hollow.”
“Pick him up. Bring him to the station,” Bree instructed.
“What do I tell him?” the deputy asked.
Bree paused. “Tell him we need his help in solving a crime. Don’t treat him like he’s a suspect. Treat him like he’s important.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He returned to his vehicle and drove off.
Bree headed for her own SUV. Brody trotted at Matt’s side as he broke into a jog to catch up with Bree.
“We need a search warrant for Dylan’s place.” He opened the back door, and the dog jumped in.
She glanced at the watch in the evidence bag in her hand. “This is the only piece of evidence we have. It’s not enough to prove a crime even happened, let alone establish probable cause for a warrant. All we know is that Todd is out of reach. There are a couple of blood spots on the driveway, and we found a watch we think belongs to Brian Dylan in the woods. We believe Todd was jumped and abducted, but we don’t have any actual evidence that happened. He could have cut his hand and gone to a doctor for stitches. He could have lost his phone.”
“We need someone to confirm that Dylan wore that watch.”
Bree nodded. “Let’s hope this Shane Bartholomew is that person.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bree stood in the monitoring room and stared at the screen showing interview room one and sized up Shane Bartholomew. Her deputy had found him at home, sleeping. His truck had been parked in his driveway. Spots of blood had been visible in plain sight in the truck bed, and an electronic search warrant had been obtained. A forensics tech was currently going through the pickup for additional evidence. Any lab tests on trace evidence would take too long, but the tire tracks on the road near Todd’s house matched Shane’s pickup. The vehicle caught on surveillance video definitely belonged to him.
They had no evidence Shane had done anything wrong, but they needed him to spill his guts.
Next to her, Matt sat at the table staring at the monitor, a laptop open in front of him. While they gathered enough evidence for the warrant to search Dylan’s property, Bree sent a deputy to sit on the road and watch his driveway. Unfortunately, the deputy wouldn’t be able to see the house, but he’d know if anyone entered or exited the property.
On the screen, Shane sat at the table, chewing a thumbnail. He was an average-looking twenty-one-year-old. About five nine, lean build. There was nothing remarkable about him. He was no Brad Pitt, but he wasn’t Quasimodo either. A jittery foot exhibited his nerves, and hunched shoulders conveyed his lack of confidence.
Matt looked up from his laptop. “Shane is currently unemployed. He used to work in the electronics department at Great Buy. He was recently fired after harassing the female employees.”
“What did he do?”
“He masturbated onto their lockers.”
“There’s an image I didn’t want in my head,” Bree said. “How does he know Dylan?”
“Like Dylan, he’s interested in all sorts of conspiracy theories and belongs to many of the same social media groups, including the Hudson Footmen.”
“So that’s how he knows Dylan.”
“Probably, but Shane is also a self-proclaimed incel.”
Bree had read articles about incels, short for involuntary celibates, a self-described group of men who couldn’t find women willing to have sex with them. These incels were angry and hostile toward women. They felt as if they were entitled to the sex they were being denied. A movement that had begun as a support group for dateless men evolved into a hate forum.
Matt said, “How do you want to work him?”
Part of a successful interrogation was reading the subject and determining which interviewer would get the best results. In this case, Bree sensed that Shane wouldn’t speak in the presence of a powerful female. She was the very thing he blamed for all his woes. Matt, on the other hand, was everything that Shane wanted to be.
Matt could be his hero.
“As much as I’d like a crack at him, Shane hates and mistrusts women. You’re an alpha male to his very apparent beta. He’ll be much more likely to open up to you.” She glanced at him. Physically, Matt was about as alpha as a man could get. He looked like he could snap Shane like a crayon. “We don’t have time to make mistakes. We need to crack this little jerk.”