“No evidence pointed to her. We still don’t have any evidence to implicate her. A twenty-one- year-old’s description of nice tits doesn’t cut it.” But Bree was getting desperate to find Todd.
“Ma’am?” Collins stuck her head in the doorway. “We found a couple of pictures you might want to look at.” She walked into the room. In her gloved hand she clutched some papers. “They’re photos printed on regular paper.” She dealt them out onto the surface of the desk. In the first image, Dylan held a fish from its gills against a backdrop of a lake and trees. Picture number two was of him holding another fish. In the background, Bree could see a dock, along with water and woods.
Matt leaned over the desk.
“He likes to fish.” Bree moved to the third image and tapped a green building in the background. A fourth shot showed Dylan in a boat, holding a fish. The entire backdrop was water. Bree returned to image number three. She looked up at Matt, then Collins. “Do either of you recognize this place?”
Collins shook her head.
Matt squinted at the photo. “No, but you have quite a few deputies who fish.”
Bree nodded to Collins. “Show these around to the other deputies. Maybe one of them recognizes this building.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Collins gathered the papers and walked toward the door.
“Collins?” Bree called.
The deputy glanced over her shoulder. “Ma’am?”
“Good work,” Bree said.
Collins flushed, nodded, and left the room. Bree removed the last desk drawer, turned it over, and checked the bottom and back. Then she shone her flashlight into the empty space. Nothing.
“Ma’am?” Collins returned, with Juarez in tow. “Deputy Juarez thinks he knows this building.” Collins set down the stack of photos. The one with the green building sat on top.
“It’s Grey Lake.” Juarez pointed to the image. “I grew up fishing and camping there. This looks like Dockside Fuel and Bait at the north end.” He held out his phone and tapped on its screen. “See?”
She squinted. He’d pulled up an online photo of the establishment.
Matt leaned over the desk. “That’s it!” He began to pace. “We know Dylan fishes at Grey Lake. That doesn’t mean he went there.”
“No, but it’s all we have to go on,” Bree said.
Matt’s face reflected her own doubt.
“There’s a boat in one of the pictures.” Bree sorted through them until she found the right one. “So we don’t know where he stays on the lake.”
Bree stared at the photos again. She could see a silver rail and a bit of white fiberglass behind him. A sliver of blue in the corner of the image caught her attention. “What’s this?”
Matt stared at the photo. “Fabric. A sail?”
Bree recalled the photo of the young family on their sailboat. She opened her phone and scrolled through her photo app. “Here it is.” She set her phone next to the printed picture. “The color of the sail is the same.”
Dylan was on the Crightons’ sailboat.
Energized by the discovery, Bree called Marge. “Look for a property on Grey Lake owned by Bernard Crighton.”
“You think one of the Crightons was working with Dylan?” Matt asked. “So, Todd’s kidnapping is tied to Oscar’s murder?”
“I don’t know what to think, but motive is less important than evidence. Also, we’re not working the murders anymore, so officially, we aren’t considering the two crimes as linked at this time. We are looking for Todd.” Bree and Matt shared a look. Having listened to her phone call with BCI, he likely understood she didn’t want to call the investigator.
Bree tapped on the picture. “It would be a huge coincidence if Dylan was on a sailboat that just happened to match the one the Crightons owned.”
Matt added, “Dylan and Oscar worked together for years. There’s no reason Dylan couldn’t have met Oscar’s relatives at some point.”
“Where was this taken?” Bree offered her phone to Juarez. “Do you know?”
Juarez took the phone and squinted at it. “The sails are down, and it looks like the photo was taken while the sailboat was tied up. I can see part of a dock.” He expanded the image on the phone with his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t see any other boats or slips, so maybe the house had its own dock. That’s all I can see.”
“That’s great.” Bree took back her phone. “Thank you, Juarez.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “We all want to find the chief deputy.”
Bree’s phone vibrated with a call. “It’s Marge.” Bree answered. “Did you find anything?”
“I did,” Marge said. “There are no properties owned by Bernard Crighton, but I did find one deeded to Stephanie Crighton.” She read off an address.
Bree covered the speaker and repeated the house number and street to Matt. “Find this property on a map app.”
“It’s a waterfront lot on the north end of the lake.” Matt looked up. “Not far from Dockside Fuel and Bait.”
“How is Stephanie involved?” Matt asked.
Older lady. Nice tits.
Bree turned to Juarez, the youngest person in the room. “Would a thirty-five-year-old woman be considered older by a twenty-one-year-old?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Juarez said. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Bree rose. Puzzle pieces began to shift into place in her mind. She met Matt’s gaze. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Stephanie Crighton is Dylan’s new lady friend,” Matt said.
Bree nodded. “Collins, Juarez, you’re with us. Let’s go check it out.”
All she could do was pray she was right.
Because she also knew in her heart, if Todd was still alive, it wasn’t likely he would survive the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A wave of pain roused Todd. The surface underneath him shifted, and nausea rolled over him like a bulldozer. He swallowed and breathed until it passed. When his stomach settled, he cracked an eyelid but couldn’t see much except darkness. Fresh air washed across his face, telling him he was outside, but clearly night had fallen. Something dried and sticky, probably blood, blurred his vision. He gave up and closed his eye.
The floor under him lurched. Was it actually moving, or was the motion in his head? He remembered taking a boot to the skull.
The floor shifted again. This time he was relatively sure it was not his imagination but actual movement.
Todd took stock. He was curled on his side. His hands were bound behind his back, and his ankles were tied together. Without moving his body, he wiggled his hands and feet to get the blood moving. More of his body hurt than didn’t, but miraculously, he could still move all his fingers and toes.
Hard surfaces all around him told him he was crammed in a confining space. Under him, metal mesh cut into his shoulder. He jolted, and something creaked. A wheel. He was in a cart of some sort.
If he was in a cart, then someone was pulling or pushing it.
Where was he being taken?
The cart lurched and began bouncing in a rhythm. Todd heard thump, thump, squeak.
He didn’t want to give away his conscious state, but he risked opening his eyes slightly, just enough to peer through his lashes. Actually, he could open only one eye. The other felt like it was swollen closed. The dried blood on his eyelid cracked enough that he could see. The sky above him was black and dotted with stars, and a half moon cast silvery light. He made out the silhouettes of two people in front of the cart. A man pulled the handle.
Dylan?
No wonder the voice of his attacker had sounded familiar.
The second person was partially hidden behind Dylan’s shadow. To Todd’s surprise, the first voice he heard was a woman’s.
“I can’t believe you kidnapped a cop.” Her voice rang with condemnation.
“He’s our insurance,” Dylan said.
She stepped out from behind Dylan. Backlit by the moon, her features were indistinct. “He’s a liability, you moron.”
Todd had to agree. Abducting a cop was a stupid move that would attract more attention than it was worth.
“Don’t call me that,” Dylan snapped.