It was time to stitch every detail together.
Lacy and I reached the concrete building that was the police station, the only real eyesore in town, in record time.
“You go inside,” Lacy said, knowing why we were here. “I’ll keep the car running.”
Because there was so little crime in Aubergine—until recent months—the station was just an open-air office plan with three small cells along the far wall.
As soon as I walked in, I spotted Charlie through the bars of one of the cells, and our eyes met.
He was wearing the same button-down shirt he’d been wearing at the rehearsal dinner, and even from here I could see the stubble that ran along his pronounced jaw. My heart beat faster when I saw him sitting there, unable to do anything to help this case along—but I knew that I could fix that by talking to him here and now.
I started toward Charlie, a new determination taking shape. One way or another, I would get him out of here today.
“Ma’am, you can’t go back there,” an officer at the front called. It was Officer Keith Becker, the same one who’d let me inside Todd’s room at the deputy’s command last night.
“I’ll be quick,” I said, not making eye contact.
“Ma’am, I need to ask you to?—”
“No, Keith, I need to ask you to back off.” I spun around and stared him down, hoping that my voice would stay even and that I could sound more confident than I felt in that moment. “I know how Charlie runs this department, and I have the right to talk to him, to see what he needs, to find out at what point he wants me to get in touch with his lawyer.”
At the mention of a lawyer, the officer appeared suddenly flustered. He lifted a finger and fumbled around in the stack of papers on his desk.
“Yes, Ms. Green, I understand, and… actually, I was just going to ask you to look at something that the deputy left here for you,” Keith said, nearly cowering as he handed over the papers.
I took the sheets from the man and scanned the contents: one a background previously run on Will Hurt, and the other two new documents on Todd Anderson and Valerie Hurt, which Jill had requested. Valerie’s was almost entirely blank with only two Aubergine addresses. On the men’s documents, there were no crimes or previous offenses listed, but one address on each page was circled and next to it was written, “Episcopal Boys’ Home.”
I checked the dates of residence. For Will, the dates were from 2009 to 2012, and for Todd, they were even longer, 2003 to 2014. An overlap of only a few years, but certainly formative adolescent ones.
Todd and Will had definitely known one another before this weekend.
I checked the most recent residences on each page. Will Hurt had lived in Aubergine ever since he’d got engaged to Valerie a few years ago. In that same time, Todd had lived in Swanson, moving from apartment to apartment until about six months ago when his residence was listed as a house. I pulled out my phone and googled the address. Sure enough, it was the Swansons’ house.
I could suddenly see how it had played out.
Todd had started dating Patty Swanson sometime in the year she was separated from her husband. Todd had obviously gotten close enough for Patty to reveal her family’s real money-making business. When Todd had heard that Patty’s son lived in Aubergine, it was the perfect opportunity to get his hands on some easy art and invite his old friend to come in on the job to make some extra cash. When the wedding was announced, it was all the better: a perfect distraction for their heists. They’d be back in Swanson before anyone was the wiser.
“Have you seen this?” I asked Charlie, who was now leaning against the bars.
Charlie didn’t answer and instead motioned with his chin toward Officer Keith. He didn’t want to talk in front of him, so I would need a reason to see my boyfriend. Alone.
I cleared my throat and narrowed my eyes at the young officer. “I’m going to need to speak with the sheriff on some urgent business in the interrogation room.”
Keith looked confused. “Interrogation room? You mean the break room?”
I cleared my throat. I should’ve known there wasn’t anything as official as an interrogation room. “Yes, that. Exactly.”
Keith glanced from me to the sheriff and back again, conflicted. After a moment though, he straightened his spine. “I’m sorry, Ms. Green, but I can’t let you do that.”
I frowned at Keith and dared a glance at Charlie, as if to ask if he believed this guy.
A smile was playing about Charlie’s lips. He was proud of the officer. He’d trained him well.
“Fine, then,” I said, huffing out a breath as I addressed Keith again. “Where is Deputy Wright this morning? We were supposed to get some intel and then”—I searched for a word that sounded official—“and then reconvene.”
“After the deputy ran this report for you, she decided to drive out to Richmond, to the state’s cyber investigation headquarters,” Keith answered, his voice steady. “She’s hoping she can trace the fake security call that came in to the sheriff last night, right before Todd Anderson’s death.”
I was impressed at the deputy’s proactivity, especially on a Sunday morning.
