Bree couldn’t hold back a laugh. Her chief deputy was normally very serious. The drugs must be talking. She should go before he said something that embarrassed either one of them. Not that he would remember.
He reached for a plastic cup on his bedside table. After swallowing some water, he rested his head back on the pillow, as if that small movement had exhausted him. “I feel stupid.”
“What? Why?”
“I let myself get jumped. I let down my guard.”
“That’s ridiculous. You were at your own house. No one expects to be ambushed in their own yard.”
His shoulder twitched, and he glanced away.
Anger shot through Bree, and she almost wished they hadn’t saved Dylan, the bastard. “You listen here. You have no reason to feel stupid. It took five guys to take you down, and you inflicted some damage on them. You kept a cool head under the most dire and terrifying circumstances.”
He stared at his cup.
Bree lowered her voice. “I—we are all grateful that you survived. You are one tough nut.”
“I guess.” Todd blew out a quick breath through his nostrils.
She touched a spot on his forearm that wasn’t black and blue. “Get some rest.” She vowed he’d get counseling in addition to physical therapy before he returned to work. He would be dealing with the mental and emotional fallout of his ordeal long after his physical injuries had healed.
He closed his eye and drifted off into a drugged slumber.
Footsteps scuffed in the hallway. Bree turned. Cady stood in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes worried. Bree wasn’t surprised to see Matt’s sister there. She’d felt vibes between her and Todd for some time.
“I need to go.” Bree headed for the door. On her way out, she nodded to Cady. “You’ll look after him?”
“I will.” Cady went inside.
“Then I’ll be on my way.” Bree left Todd in Cady’s very capable hands.
Dylan was still in surgery, so Bree headed to the station, where the state police investigator was taking statements. They’d touched base on the phone earlier, but Bree wasn’t in a rush to talk to him. The sun was rising as she parked in the lot. She slipped into her office via the back door.
Marge brought her coffee and two apple cider doughnuts.
“You’re the best.” Bree bit into a doughnut.
“I know.” Marge smiled. “Investigator Ash is in the conference room. He’s already talked to the deputies involved with the incident. I gave him coffee and a doughnut. He’ll keep until you’re ready.”
Bree washed the rest of the first doughnut down with coffee. “Would you send Morgan Dane back when she gets here?”
“I will.” Marge turned toward the door.
As she left, Matt walked in, holding Jim Rogers’s puppy in one arm.
“So, that’s where you’ve been.” Bree reached out and stroked the puppy.
“Until someone decides who gets her, she needs to be taken care of.”
Of course he would think of the dog.
“Have you talked to Ash yet?” Bree asked.
Matt nodded. “All done. I kept it basic.”
A minute later, someone knocked on Bree’s doorway. Morgan Dane peered inside.
Bree stood. “Let’s get this done.” Anxious to put the interview behind her, she led the way to the conference room.
“Stick to the facts,” Morgan said as they walked. “If a question isn’t relevant to the case or last night’s incident, don’t answer it.”
They entered the conference room. Phillip Ash was a big, bald man. His suit slacks and dress shirt showed the wrinkles of a long night. Rolled-up sleeves highlighted Popeye forearms.
Bree introduced herself and Morgan, and then they took seats facing Ash across the table.
Morgan folded her hands. “You have Sheriff Taggert’s written statement.”
Ash nodded. “This is a simple debriefing.”
Despite his words, Bree needed to be on her toes. Morgan clearly didn’t trust him. They had that in common.
“Describe the events leading up to last night’s boat chase.” Ash leaned on the table.
Bree listed the highlights. “My written statement is more detailed.”
“You’d passed the murder off to BCI,” Ash said. “Why didn’t you also hand off the search of Stephanie Crighton’s house?”
“My deputy’s life was in danger. Exigent circumstances.” Bree would be very happy never to utter those words again.
Ash narrowed his eyes. “Would you elaborate on that statement? Did you receive any indication that your deputy was in immediate danger?”
“My deputy had been beaten and kidnapped.” Bree kept her answers short, but it annoyed the hell out of her that she was being treated like anything short of a law enforcement officer. Ash’s ego was in a knot because she hadn’t reported to him before going after Todd.
Too bad.
A vein in Ash’s temple throbbed. “It didn’t occur to you that the kidnapping was tied to the double murder of Eugene Oscar and his mother?”
Bree said, “I was focused on finding my chief deputy.”
“But when you deduced that Stephanie Crighton was involved with both the murders and the abduction, you still didn’t see fit to notify BCI.” Ash’s dark brown eyes gleamed. What did he want? For her to admit she’d overstepped her authority? No fucking way. Ash wasn’t her boss.
She breathed and repeated, “I was focused on finding my chief deputy.” Then she added, “Alive.”
“You didn’t have time to make a single phone call?” Ash didn’t roll his eyes, but his voice was incredulous.
“No,” Bree said.
“What’s the point in this line of questioning?” Morgan asked. “The sheriff pursued and apprehended the people who beat and kidnapped her deputy. Because of her immediate response, Chief Deputy Harvey is still alive. That those same people also committed other crimes is irrelevant. Also”—Morgan gestured between Bree and Ash—“you’re both on the same side.”
Right? Then why did Bree feel like she was being interrogated?
“I’d like to discuss the actual case,” Bree said.
Ash drummed the table with his fingertips, frustration clamping his molars together. He rubbed two meaty hands down his face. Lifting his head, he sighed in resignation. “You’re right. We’re on the same side. Sometimes the politics of the department make us all forget that. I apologize.”
Bree sat back. She hadn’t expected him to own up to his missteps. “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.” Ash opened his folder with a back to business vibe. “Some evidence came to light while you were sleeping.” He shuffled papers. “The blood on Bernard Crighton’s pants was his own.”
“Did he know what his daughter did?” Bree asked.
Ash lifted a hand. “At this time, we have no reason to believe he had anything to do with his daughter’s actions.”
Bree nodded.
“As you know, the county forensics team has been searching the lake house all night.” Ash continued. “In it, they found Brian Dylan’s computer. On the hard drive were the working files for the pornographic deepfake video and photo-edited images of you. He also seems to have been responsible for harassing emails you’ve recently received, including the penis photo he sent to you. He had a copy of that picture on a burner phone. We think the photo is of himself.”
Bree grimaced. “I didn’t need to know the dick pic was Dylan.”
“Sorry,” Ash commiserated. “Your forensics department also found a second sex doll identical to the one he used to threaten you.” He shook his head. “We suspect he kept it for his personal use.”
Ew.
“Dylan was a busy man,” Bree said.
“And he seemed determined to torment you.” Ash nodded. “The gun in Stephanie’s possession was registered to Eugene Oscar. We believe ballistics will confirm it was the weapon used to kill Oscar and his mother.”
“Did she confess?”
“Stephanie is not talking.”
“She’s smart.”
“She didn’t get away with it.” Ash closed his file and exhaled. “Because of you.” He stood. “I’ll be in touch. I’m sure there’ll be further questions.”
Unless she plea-bargained, Stephanie would be tried for murder.
“One more thing.” Ash picked up his file. “Shane Bartholomew was bailed out yesterday.”