Riordan wasn’t going to tell him that Chief Clayton had called him, or that he’d already heard from the governor, warning him to tread lightly in the case. Even so, he had no intention of easing up on anything. He just had to be careful how he went about it.
“I wanted to gather every bit of information I could get from the autopsy and ballistic reports before I began, because we don’t really have a motive. And since there are obviously a number of possible suspects, I need to go in prepared. We had the coroner expedite the autopsy because of the delicacy of the situation.”
It was a slap in the face to the whole Youngblood family, and the anger in Bowie’s voice reflected that.
“There’s nothing delicate about my father’s murder. He gave you the name of the guilty family, and it is your damn job to find the motive. I object to the fact that special consideration is being taken just to protect the rich and powerful.”
“No, that’s not what—”
Bowie quickly interrupted. “Yes, it is. Give me the respect of admitting that much, because we both know the truth.”
Riordan sighed, and Bowie took that as a yes.
“When can our family get a copy of the autopsy?” Bowie asked.
“I don’t even have a copy myself, and giving out a victim’s information is—”
“Your ‘victim’ is my father. He belongs to our family, and everything pertaining to his murder is our business. If I get even a hint that there’s going to be a cover-up, I will take this story to every news outlet in the nation. The Waynes are big shots, and big shots in trouble are always good for ratings.”
Riordan’s stomach rolled.
“There’s no need to get defensive, Bowie.”
“You misunderstand me, Constable. This isn’t defense, it’s offense, and you’ll be in the spotlight right along with them. If you aren’t physically at the Wayne estate tomorrow, ready to interrogate every last one of them, autopsy or no autopsy, I won’t give you a second chance. I work for powerful people, too.”
“It is against the law to threaten the office of the constable of this county, and you don’t want—”
“I didn’t threaten you at all,” Bowie snapped. “I informed you of my intentions. It wasn’t a warning. I thought I was doing you a favor in giving you a heads-up. There will be representatives from our family watching to see if you show up there tomorrow. If you don’t, then we will assume other people besides you are running the show and act accordingly. I’ll be in touch,” Bowie said, and disconnected.
The rain was coming down so hard now that it sounded like hailstones against the cab. Bowie turned the windshield wipers on to the highest speed and put his phone in the console. That call had been as futile as his appearance at the Wayne estate. He’d accomplished nothing, but at least all parties involved now knew where the Youngblood family stood.
*
Riordan cursed beneath his breath. The call was nothing he hadn’t expected, but all it had done was increase the pressure on him. Still, Youngblood was right. If this had been any other case, he would have been talking to the guilty family the same day the body was discovered. Instead, they’d had plenty of time to prepare their statements and get everyone’s alibis straight. It had been an unforgivable move on his part, but it was too late to take it back.
“Damn it,” he muttered. He glanced at the clock and realized he’d missed lunch, but he’d lost his appetite. He was retiring at the end of the year. Why in hell couldn’t all this have happened after he was gone?
*
Bowie had his emotions under control by the time he arrived. Instead of parking in his usual place, he drove to the back of the house and up to the wide covered porch, parking right beside the steps.
His mother had obviously been watching for him, because she was wearing a waterproof poncho when she came out to help carry in the groceries.
“Stay on the porch, Mama. I’ll bring the sacks to you,” he said as he got out, then opened up the door to the backseat and began grabbing bags and handing them over.
Jesse came outside smiling and talking about the rain. Bowie handed a heavy sack off to him and sent him back inside with it. By the time they’d carried in the last of the groceries, Bowie was soaked to the skin, but he didn’t care. The rain was emotionally cleansing. He moved the truck away from the steps, then ran up onto the back porch and began stripping down to his briefs so he wouldn’t track water through the house.
Leigh came outside carrying a towel and a dry pair of pants.
“Your Aunt Polly is inside. I don’t want you to give her a heart attack parading yourself through the house.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
She eyed the smile. “You talked to Talia.”
He nodded as he began toweling the rain from his body.
When he didn’t elaborate, Leigh poked a finger against his chest.
“And...?”
He paused.
“And it was good... We’re good.”
Talia’s eyes welled.