The man grabbed a nearby notepad, scribbled down the lab number and extension, and handed it over.
Sean had followed Matt halfway to the door when a thought stopped him. “What year was the penny?”
Cunningham’s brows lifted in surprise before he raised his voice toward a younger tech across the room and repeated the question.
“1993,” came the response. “Same as the other two.”
Matt studied Sean. “What’re you thinking?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He frowned. “Were pennies from the other victims in the same condition?”
“Yes,” Cunnigham replied.
Sean rolled the information around in his head for a moment. “It’s strange they’re all from the same year and still look pretty clean considering their age. They’ve been in circulation for more than thirty years. Maybe the 1993 means something to the killer.”
Evidently following the same line of thinking, Cunningham nodded. “I’ll have my techs run tests to see if they were cleaned with anything, but I’ve got a jar of loose change at home with coins older than that still looking shiny. Depends on whose grubby hands they passed through.”
After thanking the techs, the two lawmen headed out.
As they crossed the parking lot, Matt pulled out his cell phone and called dispatch. After putting out an APB on Stuart Crowell for questioning, he listened for a moment before pausing beside the sheriff’s SUV.
“Okay. Tell them we’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He disconnected the call, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, looks like I got lucky.”
“How’s that?” Sean asked.
“Not only do I have Sean Malone, famous FBI agent, helping me out, but SBI sent one of North Carolina’s finest special agents too.” Matt pointed at him. “Your brother Brian.”
For the first time all day, Sean laughed. “The Malone brothers ride again. Yee-haw.”
Chapter Four
After making a quick stop at a deli for takeout, they returned to the station and entered through a side door using Matt’s passkey. He led Sean into a conference room, then immediately disappeared into his office before returning with the files from the two previous homicides, along with the thinner file he’d started on the newest victim. Given enough time, Sean had no doubt it would grow as thick as the others.
They were just getting ready to sit at the large conference table when Brian Malone walked in with another man around his age. Both wore sports coats, ties, and khakis. Brian stood six-three like Sean, while the other agent was a couple of inches shorter and built a little broader through the shoulders.
Brian motioned between his partner and Matt. “Sheriff Matt Griffin, Rafael Montoya.”
As the sheriff shook hands with him, the other man said, “Call me Rafe, sir.”
“Nice to meet you, Rafe. Feel free to call me Matt when it’s informal like this.”
Montoya nodded before Brian turned his attention to Sean. “And this guy is the sorriest son of a gun you’ll ever meet.”
Sean laughed and drove a playful punch into his brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, well, I can honestly say you taught me everything I know.”
He shook hands with the other agent. “Hi, I’m Sean.”
“Rafe. Nice to meet you finally,” Montoya said. “Brian’s always talking about you, KC, and your uncle.”
“Ha. Proof he loves me.”
Brian pointed at him. “What he didn’t mention is that I spend most of the time trashing you.”
“That part I believe.” He set the deli bag on the table. “But you still love me.”
His brother opened his mouth, but Sean cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t deny it unless you want me to keep the sandwiches.”
Sean’s grin widened when Brian answered with nothing more than a glare. Everybody in the family knew the easiest way to control the middle Malone brother was with food. The man could eat nonstop and still remain one of the fittest agents in the SBI thanks to his habit of running nearly every morning.
