Zach paced and responded conclusively, “You’re right—we’re on the verge of holding Pimentel and his associates accountable for their transgressions. Whether or not that includes the death of Eddie Jernigan is still up in the air.”
Katie was of the same mind. She continued to hold out hope that Eddie was somehow able to sidestep the worst outcome for his disappearance. If only for Landon—and his resumption of romance with Raquelle.
* * *
LANDON WAS AThis desk as Lexington County Coroner’s Office Deputy Coroner Jeannie Estrada appeared on the screen of his laptop. Fortysomething, she was on the slender side and had short, straight brown hair with blond highlights and brown eyes.
She smiled. “Afternoon, Agent Briscoe.”
“Afternoon,” Landon said anxiously. “What did you come up on with on the death of Fred Davenport?”
Jeannie went right into business mode as she responded in a measured tone of voice. “We’ve completed the autopsy on Mr. Davenport. Though the preliminary exam suggested that his death may have been a suicide, we now believe the decedent’s death was a homicide…”
“Is that so?” Landon cocked one brow. “Why the change of heart?”
“The initial observation was never meant to be the officialcause of death,” she defended the coroner’s office. “It was only after conducting a complete autopsy that we were able to ascertain that, in fact, the decedent was shot at close range by another person—and it was made to look like a suicide.”
“Hmm…” Landon gazed at her with interest, knowing that this played into his own strong suspicions that Davenport was taken out to silence him. Much like they had tried to do with Eddie—and might have succeeded as well. “Go on,” he nudged her.
Jeannie nodded and said, “There was some deep bruising on the shoulders of the decedent to suggest that he was being held down by someone—or possibly more than one person. The blood patterns on his arms indicated that they were raised in an upward position after death. Pretty hard to pull off for a dead man acting alone,” she uttered wryly. “Finally, the placement of the gun on the bathroom floor indicated that Davenport would’ve used his right hand to shoot himself in the temple. Problem is there were no lacerations or abrasions on the decedent’s index finger that normally would be present when one fired a weapon. Hence the final conclusion is that the manner of death was murder by a single shot to the head, causing significant damage that proved to be fatal.”
“Not surprising that we’re talking about a homicide here,” Landon had to say. “Makes sense when coupled with some other factors in our investigation. What’s the estimated time of death?” he asked for context in gathering evidence on the crime and those involved.
She gave a two-hour window but cautioned him, “It could have come a little earlier or later.”
Close enough to work with, Landon told himself. Then he said to her routinely, “I understand.”
After ending the video chat, he went to brief the special agent in charge, finding her in the field office’s gym.
Shannon, keen on fitness, was moving briskly on a treadmill when Landon walked up to her. “What do you have for me?” she asked assumingly.
“Just got the autopsy report on Fred Davenport.”
“And…?”
“Turns out, he was murdered—not a suicide.” Landon watched her reaction. “The Korth 2.75-inch Carry Special .357 Magnum revolver that killed Davenport was the same handgun used to shoot Lim Ramírez.”
Shannon’s eyes widened. “You think someone else killed Ramírez?”
“I think Davenport was hired by Ivan Pimentel—or more likely, his right hand, Yusef Abercrombie—to blow up my CI’s boat,” Landon told her, laying out the facts again as he saw them. “Bomb-making materials discovered in Davenport’s apartment corresponded with those used to construct the IED placed on the Crest Savannah 250 SLSC vessel. When Eddie managed to escape the explosion, by all accounts, I believe that Davenport—needing to complete his assignment—shot to death Ramírez, mistaking him for Eddie. But then Davenport himself became a loose end that needed to be taken out of the equation.”
“Hence using his own weapon to make it appear that he shot himself—allowing Pimentel and company to wash their hands of a hit gone wrong,” Shannon ascertained, using a towel to wipe perspiration from her face.
“That’s how I see it,” he said in agreement. “But it backfired, as we now know that Davenport was murderedwith a firearm—from his own stockpile of weapons—and Eddie may well still be a thorn in Pimentel’s side.”
“So, what’s the next move in piecing this together?” she asked impatiently.
“We try to find surveillance videos or cell phone information that can place one of the suspects at or near Davenport’s apartment around the time of death—to go with any forensic evidence we can gather.” Landon jutted his chin. “While also moving progressively on the case we’ve built against Pimentel’s crime organization on stolen and forged Native American artwork.”And hope Eddie is still able to provide us with more intel on the criminality, Landon told himself.
“Good.” She drew a breath. “By the way, in case you hadn’t heard, HSI CPAA investigators picked up fugitive art smuggler, Hans Duey—after Zach and Katie made him while Duey rendezvoused with Pimentel and Abercrombie at Saluda Shoals Park.”
“I knew about the meeting,” Landon said, having been brought up to speed by Katie. “I’m glad to hear that Duey’s been arrested. Homeland Security can keep him on ice while we make the case in tying our investigations into cultural property thefts and trafficking together.”
“Exactly.” Shannon offered him a smile, then resumed her workout. “Keep me posted.”
“Always.” Landon grinned. He walked away, thinking,We’ll get this done and arrest the culprits and make it stick. Even while the current state of affairs for Eddie remained a conundrum.
* * *
