“There had to be surveillance cameras outside the post office and surrounding buildings,” Grimm said. “Surely whoever did this had to have gotten caught on camera from one of the angles.”
“We’ve got our tech guys checking footage.”
“How’s the task force doing on the missing women case?” Quinn asked.
“We’re making progress. We’ve collected statements and created a good timeline for each case now. I’ve got three teams working. I have a meeting with the Beamers and their attorney later today.”
“When you say Beamers, do you mean all three? Russel, Candace, and Cliff?” Quinn asked.
“That’s right. I wanted to talk to Cliff, but I had to get approval from his father, and when his mother found out she insisted on being there as well. The father said they’d be bringing their attorney with them, Samson Delacorte. Have you heard of him?”
“Yeah, he’s ruthless in court. I covered a few of his trials back in the day when I was a reporter,” Sheraton said.
“Russel’s an attorney. Why would he need to bring one?” Quinn asked.
“Lawyers never represent themselves in legal matters,” Street said.
“I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that meeting,” Quinn said.
“You can. I don’t have a local office so Detective Phillips –– nice man, thanks for putting me in touch with him, Grimm — has offered me the interrogation room down at the Altoona PD. That means you could watch from the other side if you want. He’ll be there.”
“Yes.” She swiveled around to look up at Grimm. “We can. Can’t we?”
He nodded, smiling down at her. “Sure. I’d like to see what these three have to say as well.”
“Great. I’m heading there after I leave here. I’m just waiting for a call that the search warrant has been carried out and the evidence we need has been found before I go question the Beamers.”
“This is getting interesting. Where are the Beamers?” Sheraton said.
“In the interrogation room. I told them to be there at eight-thirty this morning to meet with me,” Street said.
“It’s after nine-thirty now,” Quinn said.
“Precisely. I’m sure they are fuming.” Street looked smug. His phone rang and he reached for it. “Hello? You what…” He stood. “When? … Where? … Send photos to Detective Phillips at the Altoona office. I am heading there now.”
“What’s happened?” Logan Burrows said, speaking for the first time.
“They just found Heather Randall’s partially decomposed body in Lewistown under the Old Arch bridge. She was buried under a pile of rocks there. Some teens were fishing before school at Jack’s Creek this morning when they climbed up the rocks. It caused a rockslide, exposing her remains. The heat of summer must have sped up the decomposition.”
Quinn slowly rose, her side hurting with the movement.
Street did not make it to the door until his phone rang again. “Hello?”
He kept walking and they couldn’t hear if he said anything more this time.
“I’m coming with you guys,” Sheraton said. “I want to be an eyewitness to what goes down with this interrogation.”
“Let’s take my SUV,” Burrows said. “We can all fit in it.”
They left and followed the agent to the police station. Street flashed his credentials and asked for Detective Phillips when they arrived. Phillips came out, carrying a manila folder, and escorted them all back.
“I have your evidence from Lewistown printed in color for you to present to the Beamers right here.”
“Excellent. How have they handled having to wait?” Street asked.
“Not well. Delacorte has been out of that room twice now asking about your ETA. I told him you were at a crime scene and were held up, but that you were on your way,” Phillips said. “Did your search warrant gather any evidence?”
“It sure did,” he said. “Show these fine folks into observation and let’s get this show started.”
