“Political?” Baz looked around. “What the fuck does this get them? This is JJ’s house. For all we know, Dante’s the one who bashed her over the head.”
“Well, we won’t know until we investigate.”
Baz hated that Brantley was right. This very well could be aimed at the governor and whoever was targeting Greenwood was simply using JJ to relay the message. It seemed a stretch for him, but then again, Baz had seen the criminal element at work. Often there was no rhyme or reason. Logically, at least.
“I need to get her out of here first,” Baz told Brantley and Reese, ensuring they heard the concern in his tone. “We all know there’s enough evidence to throw suspicion on her, and if we have any hope of finding Dante, we can’t have her detained.”
“Nor can Dante afford for the cops to be focusin’ in the wrong direction,” Brantley agreed before glancing over at Reese.
“Whatever we do, this place has to be treated like a crime scene. We can’t confirm that’s all Dante’s blood until we test it,” Reese added, as though that should’ve been an obvious conclusion.
This time Baz heard the underlying meaning. If that was all Dante’s blood, the chances of him still being alive … well, they were very, very slim, and unless he was at a hospital already, they were growing slimmer by the second.
“Good point. JJ, why don’t you go change.” Brantley nodded at Reese. “You call the sheriff, report the scene.”
Baz watched as JJ went into her room. She moved slowly, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the blood or because she had a head injury.
“And you”—Brantley tapped Baz on the shoulder—“call Charlie. Tell her we need her over here ASAP.”
“Will do.”
“And I’ll call Trey,” Brantley continued. “Have him bring over a kit. I won’t notify the governor until we know for a fact this is Dante’s finger. To know that, we’ll need to fingerprint it.”
Reese pulled out his phone. “I’ll step outside to make the call.”
No one spoke as Reese ventured out the front door and into the bright morning sunlight.
“Yes, I need to speak to Sheriff Endsley,” Reese said, his voice trailing off as he stepped onto the porch.
Baz sighed. “I can’t wrap my head around this. I thought Dante was more of a douche than a dirtbag.”
“He is,” Brantley confirmed. “Which is why I don’t think he did this. Or if he did, he didn’t do it on his own.”
“You don’t think he’s capable of hurtin’ JJ?”
“Physically, no.”
Baz wasn’t sure why that made him feel moderately better, but it did.
“I don’t wanna go to jail,” JJ whispered, drawing all eyes to her as she emerged from her bedroom wearing a clean sweatshirt and jeans, a pair of Nikes on her feet.
“You won’t,” Brantley stated firmly.
“You don’t know that,” she argued.
As much as Baz wanted to believe Brantley could control this situation, maneuver the outcome in their favor, he had his doubts. Reese was right, this place had to be handled like a crime scene. Unfortunately, JJ was smack dab in the middle of it all with the blood covering her, the knife likely used to cut off Dante’s finger in her bed… There was just too much that implicated her, especially as seen by an unbiased spectator.
“She’s right,” Baz said. “Whoever did this wanted to implicate JJ. There’s the knife in the bed, which no doubt will have her prints on it.”
“It’sherknife,” Brantley countered. “Of course it will.”
“Herbloodyprints,” Baz snapped, feeling the thread of his control beginning to pull tight. “Why would she be holding the knife with bloody hands? Think about it.”
“You said she didn’t have blood on her hands.”
“I didn’t,” JJ confirmed, holding her hands up.
“She’s been unconscious for hours, Brantley. We have no idea what happened here.”
