Ivy stood.
“Only one thing I can do.”?
?Chapter 7
They were sixmiles from the Princeton PD headquarters. Farmland. A narrow, secluded, one lane access road.
Seven Princeton PD cruisers were already on the scene—no, make that eight. A blacked-out Crime Scene Unit cargo van was also parked off to the right.
Darnell hadn’t told Vaughn anything about the crime other than his eloquent description. Vaughn preferred it this way. A clear head, no bias.
Beyond the cars, a red barn. Not ancient, but definitely not a new build.
Vaughn and Darnell got out. A couple of the uniforms recognized them, nodded.
Vaughn nodded back.
Only one came over.
“Detective Ryan.” A smile. “Detective Darnell.” No smile.
“Officer Delaney.”
Vaughn and Darnell continued toward the barn and Delaney followed.
“Got here about an hour ago,” Delaney offered. “Anonymous call came in the middle of the night.”
“Who owns the building?”
“An old LLC. Hasn’t been used in at least a year. Probably longer.”
“Anybody notice anything? Cars coming and going?”
“No. There are a couple of farms around here. Plants, fruit. Early to bed, early to rise, that sort of thing. I have my men asking around, but so far nobody reported noticing anything unusual. There’s also the Cedar Ridge Preserve not too far from here—”
“The Preserve has security,” Darnell interrupted.
“Coupla rent-a-cops who were probably sleeping or jerking off in the woods last night.”
“Delaney, get someone to head over to the Preserve, talk to them.”
Darnell made no effort to hide his dislike of the cop. Spoke quickly. Exerted his authority.
“Right.”
“Now, Delaney.”
“Right.”
Delaney bound off.
“Don’t know why you put up with that guy,” Darnell said.
I put up with you.
Harsh and maybe unwarranted after what his partner had been through. Didn’t make it any less true, however.
The massive front doors to the barn were in decent shape. Firmly closed. Locked via chain and padlock. Vaughn tried to peer through the wooden slats, but couldn’t make anything out. Strange, given that there were gaps in the old wood.
