“I’ll take one,” said Wyatt, standing beside him. “I like the strong stuff.”
Sam nodded approvingly and made the two coffees, putting them in navy-blue White Rock Police Department mugs.
“That was kind of weird what the mailman said about a setup.” Wyatt took his mug and looked at Sam. “You think this could be some kind of setup?”
“You never know. With Thorne, it’s likely.”
“You really think it’s this developer guy?”
“Yep.” Sam walked the few steps into the squad room. “You stick around long enough, you’ll see why.”
“So what’d you find out from John?” Jo’s legs dangled in front of her desk, and she tapped her heels impatiently against the solid oak front. Their eyes met, and Sam could tell what she was thinking. She was wondering if John had evidence that indicated it wasn’t a suicide. Might as well give her the bad news right away.
“John doesn’t think it was a suicide. The placement of the gun isn’t conducive to that.” Sam hitched his hip on the corner of Kevin’s desk and sipped his coffee.
Wyatt stood awkwardly in the center of the room. Sam hadn’t yet assigned him a desk. The other desk was the one Tyler Richardson had occupied.
Sam nodded at Wyatt and gestured toward Tyler’s desk. “You can take that desk.” A pang of sadness speared him, but he’d have to get used to someone else sitting at Tyler’s desk. Besides, as they’d recently learned, maybe Tyler wasn’t as worthy of Sam’s feelings as he’d once thought.
Wyatt looked at the desk uncertainly then sat behind it, facing them.
Lucy trotted over and sat in front of Jo’s desk, looking up at the doughnut bag perched on the corner. Jo opened the bag and tilted it toward the dog. “Sorry, it’s empty.” She crumpled the bag and tossed it into the trash can next to the coffee maker.
“I’m not surprised. I didn’t think it was suicide. Didn’t look like it.” Wyatt’s voice was neutral, but the flicker of suspicion in his eyes put Sam on alert. Sam made a mental note to be cautious around Wyatt until he had him figured out.
“There were some discrepancies at the crime scene. But we have to do our due diligence and consider all the angles,” Sam said.
Wyatt nodded.
Sam turned to Jo. “Did you get anything from his contacts?”
Jo shook her head. “I hightailed it out the back door when we saw Jamison coming. I figured it was a perfect opportunity to talk to Dupont’s assistant without Jamison getting in the way. But she didn’t have anything new to add, so I skedaddled out of there before Jamison returned. I came back here, and I’ve been calling the people on his calendar. We already talked to most of them, but I figure sometimes people think things over and remember something new. A few said he seemed a little nervous, but that makes sense given that he was having that secret meeting with us. Other than that, I didn’t come up with anything new.”
“I might have something.” Kevin pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and held it up. Inside was a green leaf.
Sam squinted at the bag. “You found that at the mill?”
“Lucy found it, actually. Looks like there might be a blood smear on the leaf.” Kevin handed it over to Sam, who held it up to the light.
“Could be unrelated to the murder. Lots of lowlifes hang out there, and who knows what kinds of things they get up to. Fights, maybe. But we’ll see if the lab can get a print off it.” Sam turned and called for Reese, who appeared around the side of the post office boxes. He handed her the evidence bag. “Can you get this to the lab and see if they can get a fingerprint or something off of it and test to see if it’s blood? If it is, have them check to see if it’s Dupont’s.”
Reese took the bag and held it close to her face, squinting. “I don’t see any fingerprint, but it’s the right shape. We learned about this last semester. I have a friend from school who is interning at the lab. I’ll see if I can put a rush on it.” She disappeared back out into the lobby, and Sam turned back to the others.
“Okay, you guys know the drill. We’re treating this like any other homicide now. Everything by the book. We’ll be under extraordinary scrutiny. Kevin and Wyatt, I want you to question the druggies who hang out at that mill building. There was no one there when we found Dupont, but maybe they were there before. Whoever killed Dupont might have been waiting for him, and someone may have heard or seen something.”
Kevin stood and grabbed his keys. “We’re on it.”
“Jo, I want you to keep on that list. Go back to last week. Check out Dupont’s neighbors. Maybe somebody saw someone coming to the house or something suspicious that day.”
Jo slid off the desk. “Will do.”
Sam started toward his office, catching Jo’s eye on the way. Now that there was no question about the direction of the investigation, they would have to be careful, especially given what they’d learned about Tyler. What they’d done to protect his name could come back to bite them.
Hopefully, they could keep anything about Tyler from coming out in the investigation. For some reason, Sam still didn’t want his betrayal revealed. For one, he didn’t want Tyler’s memory spoiled for his elderly mother and disabled sister, Clarissa. Tyler had been a hero in their eyes, even moving in with his mother so he could use his check to pay for Clarissa’s expensive treatments.
Jo fished her keys out of her desk and followed Sam to the office. “Now what? We need a plan.”
Sam nodded. “I’m hoping we can play it by the book. We know who’s behind this.”
Jo lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “And if certain things come to light in the investigation?”
“Maybe it’s good if we go over things and think them through from all angles. Not here, though.” Sam glanced at his door. He couldn’t risk anyone overhearing them. “Tonight. My house.”
Jo nodded and turned toward the door.
“And Jo,” Sam called to her as she got to the door.
She turned back to look at him. “Yeah?”
“You bring the beer.”
Chapter Five
The day had yielded a big fat nothing. Sam had spent the afternoon trying to call in favors from his contacts in an attempt to home in on who Thorne would have ordered to kill Dupont. His contacts either didn’t know, or weren’t saying. Sam couldn’t blame them. No one wanted to cross Thorne. He was a cold-hearted killer.
When he drove home that night, all he had was a smoking gun and a smudged leaf. But he had an idea about someone else he could press for information, an informant he’d been grooming for a while now. That person probably wouldn’t know who was closest to Thorne in his chain of command, but he’d know the lowest link in that chain. Sam would have to start at the bottom.
Sam lived in an old log hunting cabin deep in the woods. His grandfather had built it, and the sight of the golden logs and wide front porch nestled between pines, birch, and oaks always brought him comfort.
He pulled into the driveway, and Lucy bounded out of the Tahoe and onto the porch. The green wooden rocking chair—his grandfather’s favorite—rocked slightly as she sped past. She waited at the door, glancing back at Sam impatiently.
“You want dinner?”
Lucy wagged her tail furiously and gave him a look as if to say, “Duh.”
Sam opened the door, and Lucy rushed to her stainless-steel bowl in the kitchen. Sam tossed his keys on the cedar log table beside the door and let the day’s stress roll off. The cabin was still decorated exactly as it had been when his grandparents lived there: rustic, comfortable furniture, happy childhood memories, and the scent of cedar.