“Nope. Just that he was terrified.”
Laurel kept her voice calm. “Is there any place Tyler would hide something? More info?”
Sandra fiddled with her earring. “Dunno. I went through his fishing stuff. He liked to fish the Red River, right off the Salty Campground? Just fly-fishin’. He didn’t have a boat or anything.”
Walter shoved his hand in his pocket. “We need a list of his friends and their numbers before you go. Is there anybody he trusted more than others?”
“Just me,” Sandra whispered.
Just wonderful. “Did he have any illnesses?” Laurel asked.
Sandra shrugged. “He had bad allergies, and he got a lot of migraines. I think he was stressed.”
Migraines? Ones from lesions? “How long has he had migraines?” Laurel asked.
Sandra picked at a cuticle. “As long as I’ve known him. He said he’s had them for years.”
Long enough for lesions to form on his brain? Laurel pushed a tablet of paper toward the woman. “Please list all of his friends, acquaintances, even sources. As well as places he’d frequent. Does his vehicle have GPS?”
Sandra snorted. “No. He had a beat-up compact from the seventies.”
Unfortunately, his computer and phone had been taken, and according to Nester, never turned back on. His car was still missing as well. “So he told you nothing about this new podcast investigation?”
Sandra took a pen and started a list. “No. All he said was that if he didn’t stop them, a lot of people were gonna die.”
Chapter 20
After making a quick phone call toDCwhere the deputy director had not only warned her to stay alive but had then questioned her about how many people she’d seen in the last week who’d worn emeralds, just to entertain himself with her memory skills, Laurel sat back in her chair as Walter ambled into the conference room with two buckets of popcorn. He set them down on the conference table before sinking into one of the too-sleek, white chairs that looked out of place around the scuffed, fifties-era table.
He handed her one of the buckets. “Ena popped it. Fish and Wildlife has a better microwave.”
“Thank you.” Laurel took the popcorn, her stomach growling from the scent of melted butter. “We could get a new microwave.”
“We definitely should.” Walter pointed the remote at the wall screen and hit the button.
The monitor snapped to life, spilling Tyler Griggs’s first of two unaired podcasts into the room. His jittery voice filled the air, his pitch too high, his energy twisted and erratic.
Laurel slipped a piece of popcorn onto her tongue. It was warm, buttery, and properly salted.
Tyler’s face appeared on the screen, eyes darting with a fevered energy that seemed to vibrate just beneath his skin. “Hi, folks,” he began, his smile jagged and off-balance. “I’ve been watching the Elk Hollow Police Department, and let me tell you, the stench of corruption is so thick you could cut it with a chain saw.”
Walter muttered something low and indistinct.
Laurel looked at him and swallowed. “Walter, this is too much for you. I can take care of it.”
“No. The least I can do for the kid is figure out who might’ve wanted him dead.”
“All right,” Tyler’s voice piped up from the screen, almost giddy. “Now, here’s the evidence I have, and let me tell you, the corruption goes deeper than this.” His grin widened. “Not only are these two having an affair, and keep in mind they’re both married to somebody else, but they’re taking bribes.”
The screen cut to a series of grainy photos of Detective Robertson and Officer Jackson entering motels at all hours, their bodies angled close. One of Officer Jackson’s hands brushing Detective Robertson’s arm as they walked into a run-down building off Route 8, and one of Detective Robertson’s hands on her lower back as they crossed a parking lot together.
They weren’t looking over their shoulders, but as cops, surely they became suspicious?
“It seems like they prefer motels with bad lighting and nobody asking questions,” Tyler said, his voice a strained whisper. “But they should’ve been asking themselves some questions. Like who’s been recording their little meetings.”
The screen flickered again. More clips, all marked with time stamps Tyler had added himself. The kind of meticulous, obsessive detail that suggested he’d spent hours combing through footage, stringing it all together.
There was footage showing Detective Robertson and Officer Jackson laughing together in a diner parking lot. Of them walking out of a bar just after midnight, heads bent close, Officer Jackson’s fingers tangled in Detective Robertson’s sleeve. Then several more clips of the two kissing passionately in Officer Jackson’s patrol car.
