Sam turned back, his brows raised.
“Like I said, Scott doesn’t do any deals at his house. We meet here and there. Sometimes it’s hard to find a place.”
“I imagine,” Jo said.
“But Scott once said something about the guy he gets the stuff from having the perfect day job for delivering drugs.”
“What do you mean, like a UPS guy or something?” Jo asked.
Jesse pressed his lips together. “Maybe, but I got the impression it was someone with ties to the government.”
“You mean someone who works at the town hall here?” Sam frowned, conjuring up the faces and roles of the people who worked in the brick building that served as town hall. The only sketchy one he could come up with was Jamison.
“More like someone who would have an excuse to be seen all around town.” Jesse raised his brows. “You know, like a cop.”
Chapter Nine
Back in the Tahoe, Jo looked up Scott Elliott on her iPad. “Elliott lives on Hawthorne Street. We should get over there right away before he skips town.”
“Can’t.” Sam pointed at the digital clock on the dash. “Bev Hatch is due at the station any minute.”
Jo sighed, sank back in her seat, and pushed her Oakleys up on her nose. She wasn’t sure what to think about Bev Hatch. She glanced at Sam. He didn’t seem nervous at all. After working with him for so long, she knew the telltale signs—the tightening of his jaw, the tic in his cheek. If Sam wasn’t nervous about Bev, maybe she shouldn’t be either.
But there was one thing that did make her nervous, and she was pretty sure it made Sam nervous, too. “What did Jesse mean that the distributor could be a cop?” she asked. “Do you think that’s part of Thorne’s plan to frame us?”
“Maybe. That would get us out of the way. He could put in his own people.”
“He already had his own person in there: Tyler.”
“Yeah, and Tyler’s not there anymore. Maybe he needs to get someone new into place, and in order to do that, he’d have to get rid of me.”
Jo frowned. She didn’t like the idea of anyone getting rid of Sam. “Well, I won’t let that happen.”
Sam smiled but kept his eyes on the road.
“But it could be any government employee. Might not be a cop. We might just be paranoid. Jesse probably just said ’cops’ to get us riled up.”
“Yeah, it could be any government employee, like Jamison.” Jo tapped her finger on her thigh as she thought the idea through. “You know, he’s been dying to get the mayor position. I heard rumors he was thinking of running against Dupont. Now, Dupont’s gone, and nothing stands in his way.”
“Not exactly. He has the position until the election, but he has to beat Marnie Wilson to keep it.” Sam pressed his lips together. “But now that you mention it, no one else has thrown their hat in the ring. I can’t picture Jamison getting his Ferragamo shoes dirty with murder, though.”
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be someone who works here in town. It could be someone who works for the county,” Jo said. “Like, maybe Bev Hatch. Jamison seemed pretty keen to bring her in on this. Maybe they’re in on it together.”
Sam thought for a minute and then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Bev’s been sheriff for a long time, and I’ve never heard of her being corrupt. My grandpa knew her family.” He shrugged as he pulled onto Main Street. “Then again, you never know who you can trust.”
“Well, we know we can trust ourselves.” Jo glanced into the backseat, where Lucy sat happily looking out the window. “And Lucy.”
They pulled up in front of the police station to see the Coos County Sheriff car parked in front.
“At least Hatch is on time. I hate when these sheriffs get on a power trip and purposely show up late so you have to wait for them,” Jo said as they piled out of the SUV and followed Lucy into the station.
Bev Hatch was short and in her midfifties, with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. Her piercing gray eyes read “no nonsense,” and Jo got the impression that Bev had sized her up in the first two seconds she’d laid eyes on her. Jo wasn’t sure what her conclusions were, but when Bev’s eyes fell on Lucy, a smile lit her face, and she earned a few points with Jo.
Bev pulled a dog treat from her pocket and squatted to Lucy’s eye level. “Heard about you, Miss Lucy. You’re quite the K-9 cop.”
Lucy sniffed Bev’s hand, swished her tail back and forth, and took the treat.
Bev stood and introduced herself to Jo, shaking her hand, and then shook Sam’s. “Nice to see you again, Sam.”
“Same here.”
Bev looked around and nodded. “Nice place you got here. I like an old-fashioned police station. So, why don’t you fill me in on what you’ve got so far?”
The three of them stood in front of the corkboard as Sam told Bev everything they knew about the investigation. Bev had already seen the crime scene photos, and they discussed a few of the details. They brought her up to speed on the fingerprint Kevin found and what they’d learned from Jesse.
Bev’s eyes narrowed when Sam told her the fingerprint matched the one found on the car at Tyler’s shooting.
“That’s an odd coincidence. By the way, I’m really sorry about your loss.” Bev’s eyes drifted to the desk in the corner. Wyatt hadn’t yet had a chance to clutter it up, and it was still so empty that it obviously used to be Tyler’s. “Weird they never caught the guy and now the matching print turns up. I don’t think that’s any coincidence, do you?”
“Probably not,” Sam said.
“Was Tyler investigating anything to do with the mayor?” Bev asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, but he might have stumbled onto something that night. I was going on the idea that it was some kind of drug deal.”
Bev’s gaze returned to the corkboard. “Why do you think the killer ran out through the woods? Do you think he could have been one of the vagrants squatting in the mill? Maybe Dupont’s arrival surprised them. You know, if they were high, anything could happen.”
“That’s a thought, but how do you explain the gun? Most of these vagrants don’t carry guns.”
Bev nodded. “Most of them don’t. Some do. The serial number was filed off. Sent it up to the big lab in Concord. They can do more forensics on it than we can at the county lab.” Bev’s clipped tone showed that she was fast and efficient.
“But why leave the gun?”
Bev shrugged. “Ya got me. Why do you think they left it? And why did the person who killed Dupont wear gloves, but the person who ran through the woods didn’t?”
“Maybe the person who ran through the woods had nothing to do with the murder. Maybe they happened across the scene after, got scared, and ran,” Sam suggested.
Bev pressed her lips together. “You know, that would explain something. John Dudley told me it looked as though the mayor had been patted down—as if somebody was looking for something.”
Jo’s gut clenched, and she kept her eyes trained on the photos, trying not to show any emotion. Mick had patted Dupont down, looking for the knife. Unfortunately, they hadn’t found it.
“Possibly one of the vagrants or drug users looking for money,” Sam said. “Dupont must have gotten there early, because when we got to the mill, the blood was already starting to dry. He’d been killed about a half hour before we got there.”
Bev frowned. “Now, why do you think he got there early?”
“Maybe he wanted to scout out the mill and make sure we were coming alone.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe he was meeting with someone else before us. Who knows?”
Bev crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a hip against the desk. “Now tell me about this meeting. Dupont was supposed to give you incriminating information on the drug situation here in town. Is that right?”
Sam nodded. “Dupont was going to give us evidence on Lucas Thorne.”
Bev’s left brow ticked up. “The real estate developer? Interesting. I’d heard rumors he was into something shady. Never liked that guy. Bit of a pompous ass.”