Reese fell into step with him as they returned to the house.
“I’d bet Dante called her because she’s probably the only one he knows who wouldn’t tell him to get fucked,” Reese said, closing the front door and blocking out the bright light.
Brantley chuckled. “Yeah, probably. Although she’s the first one who should.”
It was no secret that Brantley didn’t care for Dante. Not even a little. They weren’t friends, and Brantley had no qualms making that fact known. However, he had a sworn duty to his position on the task force to uphold the law and to protect the governor’s best interest. Although the relationship between father and son was strained, Brantley knew Governor Greenwood wouldn’t want any harm to come to his son.
Then again, unbeknownst to everyone, the task force wouldn’t exist come Monday, so did he really have any loyalties there?
“Did you get ahold of Charlie?” Brantley asked, careful not to disturb anything more than he had to as he pulled out his phone and began snapping pictures.
“I did, yeah. She’s on her way.” Reese moved when he did. “The sheriff’s gonna want to talk to JJ.”
“He’s got every right to want to. Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen.” He glanced over at his partner. “She doesn’t know anything.”
“Doesn’t matter. She was the last to see Dante, and her house is covered in blood.”
“Blood that belongs to Dante,” he conceded.
“Yes. Although we don’t know that for a fact. Could be some of that blood belongs to whoever’s got Dante. Maybe there was a fight. We don’t know anything at this point.”
Brantley stared at Reese, wishing the man wasn’t always so rational. At the moment, he was considering praising Baz for getting JJ away from all this shit. Although he’d told her she wouldn’t go to jail, he’d been placating her. He knew nothing of the sort. And truthfully, they didn’t have time to prove she hadn’t had a hand in this. If he was a law enforcement officer stumbling on the scene, the first thing he’d do was arrest JJ. The second would be to search for the body, because with that much blood…
“You believe the finger’s Dante’s?” he asked Reese.
“No doubt about it. It’s their way of provin’ they’re serious.”
Yeah, he figured as much, but he was hoping there was another scenario that worked here. Unfortunately, the way it played, it looked as though Dante Greenwood had been kidnapped, and whoever took him was serious about whatever it was they wanted from him.
“So who took him and why?” he wondered aloud.
“I figure it could be a couple of things.”
Curious, Brantley turned his full attention to Reese.
“Could be he’s in deep with the mob, and they’re lookin’ to make a point.”
“The mob? Dante?” No, he just didn’t see it. “Or?”
“Or someone’s lookin’ to maneuver the governor to their liking.”
That was the angle Brantley was leaning toward. K and R didn’t have to have a financial motivation. Could be they were looking to get the governor to swing one way or the other on something. He figured the finger was the key here. They wanted someone to know they had Dante and that they weren’t opposed to hurting him to get what they wanted.
However, he still couldn’t see how JJ played in all of this. It wasn’t working out in his head just yet.
*
“I just don’t understand why stage thescene like this,” Reese told Brantley as they moved toward the kitchen. “What does it get them? Why toss the knife in the bed with JJ? Seems sloppy to me.”
“Sloppy or emotional,” Brantley stated. “Take your pick.”
Yeah, Reese could see either.
They were both quiet for a few minutes while they moved through the house, starting in the kitchen. Reese noted the coffee mug sitting on the Keurig. JJ’d said she was making coffee when someone hit her over the head. He walked over, peeked down inside the cup. Sure enough, it was full and the coffee was cold.
“She was in here,” he said to himself as he stood in front of the machine. “Dante’s in the living room where she left him. She’s standin’ here, waitin’ for the coffee, when someone comes up behind her.”
Reese peered over his shoulder. Behind him was the open doorway, which meant whoever hit her could’ve been anywhere in the house. The house was likely built sometime in the late fifties, early sixties, and like most from that era, it didn’t have an open floor plan. There were walls separating each room, blocking visibility from the front of the house to the back. If she wasn’t expecting them, they could’ve easily snuck up on her.
