The deputy wouldn’t look him or Sheriff Greer in the eye.
Billy Osburne had disappeared into the wind. His truck was still in the parking lot, having been watched carefully by a deputy, but when they stepped inside the store, they’d discovered Billy had left fifteen minutes before. The other auto parts employee was baffled by their interest in Billy and also surprised that his truck was still in the lot.
“Billy didn’t act worried about anything,” the employee told them. “He asked if I could cover the rest of the evening since things were slow.” He shrugged. “Then he left. I assume he called a ride. What do you think is wrong with his truck?”
Zander didn’t tell him that Billy had been under surveillance.
The deputy on Billy duty drooped. “I saw him through the store window not that long ago. I couldn’t see him the whole time unless I went in the store. I figured I was good as long as I had his truck in sight.”
Greer simply stared at his deputy, making the man wilt even more.
Zander could almost hear the lecture that had to be running through Greer’s brain.
“Since you’re so good at watching his truck,” the sheriff finally said, “you can continue watching it for the rest of your shift after you call in his description. I want everyone keeping an eye out for Billy Osburne.”
“What if I’m needed somewhere else?” the deputy asked, his focus on his shoes.
“If no one else is available, then go, dammit. Citizens come before an empty truck.” Greer shook his head and turned to leave, gesturing for Zander to follow him.
“Back to Kyle’s,” stated Zander.
“Yep. I doubt Billy is there, but I want to put the fear of God into Kyle.”
The sheriff had shown himself to be a man of few words and reminded Zander of a parent who could get his kids into line by giving them “the look.” As they returned to their vehicles, he wondered exactly how Greer would instill the fear of God in Kyle.
“You called him,” Zander stated to Kyle as they stood on his porch again.
There was no repentance on Kyle’s face. He stood calmly in his doorway, leaning casually against the frame, trying to avoid the deadly stare of the sheriff. Zander understood. Even he was slightly unnerved by the fire in Greer’s eyes. Their temperature would scorch skin.
“Of course I did. You didn’t say not to. You had to expect that I would call him—but I didn’t tell him to get lost. That was his own idea. I told him he wasn’t in trouble for the fight.”
“Then why did he run?” Greer asked. “He didn’t take his truck, so I assume he called someone to pick him up. There’s no place to go on foot around there.”
“He’s not real fond of you, Sheriff.” Kyle shrugged, finally daring to quickly glance at Greer. “Even I got twitchy seeing you at my door, even though I’ve stayed out of trouble. Can’t help it.”
“Who would he call?” Zander didn’t care for Kyle’s attempt to place the blame for Billy’s disappearance on them. He was surprised the man had suggested it under the hot stare of the sheriff.
Kyle screwed up his face in thought. “You got me there. He really doesn’t have any friends.”
Greer snorted.
“Maybe another guy who works at the store?” Kyle added hastily.
Annoyance struck Zander as he realized they might have to go back to the auto parts store to get some names. Back and forth, back and forth.
Ridiculous.
“What about a girlfriend?” he asked.
Kyle’s expression cleared. “That’s possible. I wouldn’t say girlfriend, but I know he hooked up earlier this week. Didn’t come home for two nights. I don’t know anything about her,” he added, beating Zander to his next question.
“A hookup and Lindsay Fitch?” Zander asked.
Kyle grinned. “Is there ever enough?”
“No name?” Greer scowled.
“Nothin’. I don’t give a shit where he sticks it.” He pressed his lips together and took a swift gander at Greer as if worried he’d be berated for cussing.
Zander believed him. Frustrated, he pointed at the bottom half of Kyle’s tattoo below his sleeve. “Where’d you get the European Kindred tattoo?”
Kyle pulled away from the doorframe and tugged at his sleeve, a frown in his eyes and on his mouth. “What’s it to you?”
“I’m curious. Indulge me.” Zander met his stare.
Greer shifted his feet and tucked his thumbs into his duty belt, and Kyle carefully considered the sheriff’s hard expression. The silence stretched among the three of them.
“I was with them in prison,” Kyle finally said, raising his chin. “You have to choose a side unless you want your ass kicked every day.”
Zander eyed the tattoo’s smooth edges and sharp color. “That’s no prison tattoo. A professional did that.”
Kyle’s shoulders twitched. “Kinda hard to brush people off once you’re out. They have expectations.”
“They wanted you to deal for them?” asked Greer in a tone that sounded like Zander’s father when he was in trouble.
“No one tells me what to do.” Defiance flashed.
“Billy have the same tattoo?” Zander watched him. Kyle was struggling to hold still. His hands went into his back pockets and out again, and then he tried to resume his earlier casual, slouchy stance against the frame and failed, looking like a board leaning against a wall.
“Nope.”
Zander glanced at the sheriff and lifted a brow. Done?
Greer scrutinized Kyle, making him twitch again. “Let me know if you hear from Billy. Immediately. Tell him we have questions.”
“I already told him that,” Kyle muttered. He stepped inside and closed the door.
Greer and Zander exchanged a look and headed toward their vehicles.
“You do a pretty good fear of God,” Zander commented. “He was starting to look like a tweaker.”
“I had kids.”
Zander’s lips curved slightly. “No calls or emails on the Copeland scene?”
The sheriff checked his phone and tapped the screen, perusing his email as they stopped at his vehicle. “Nothing.” He shoved his phone in a pocket and looked back at the Osburne house. “I can’t get Nate Copeland’s face out of my mind.”
He wasn’t the only one.
“I’m struggling with the idea that it might be murder,” Greer said slowly. “Who lets someone shoot them in the mouth? Nate didn’t have any defensive wounds. No signs of a struggle at all.”
“No forced entry,” Zander added.
“That doesn’t bother me much. Few people lock their doors here. He could have gone outside for something that morning and left it unlocked.”
“Perhaps the autopsy will reveal he’d been incapacitated in some way. A blow to the head that hid under his hair or had been disguised by the exit wound. Maybe he was drugged.”
Greer gave him a side-eye. “Like the Fitch couple.”
Zander grimaced. “Depending on what the autopsy turns up, we should request testing of the food and beverages in his house.”
“Shit.” The sheriff threw up his hands and stalked away several steps. “What is going on?”
“We’re jumping ahead,” Zander pointed out, taken aback by Greer’s visible frustration. He’d begun to believe the quiet man was part android. “Let’s get that autopsy report first.”
“I know.” The sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled heavily. “How in the fuck did I suddenly get three dead people in my county?”
Zander said nothing. Greer didn’t need his encouragement. He was venting, something Zander understood too well.
“I think I should stop by that meeting at the church,” the sheriff said. “My truck-duty deputy can ask at the auto parts store for employee names and find out about a possible girlfriend—or whoever—and get us the information.”
“We’ll both go to that meeting.”
Madison drove Alice to the Methodist church and silently argued with herself about whether or not to attend the meeting. She didn’t want to hear details of Lindsay’s death and face nosy questions from busybodies. But she did want to know how the investigation was proceeding. Her need for answers overpowered everything else, so she parked, resigned to attend and avoid as many people as possible.
Alice thanked her for the ride and darted out of the car before Madison had turned off the engine. Surprised by her speed, Madison watched until Alice disappeared inside the church.
The parking lot was nearly full. Fear had brought people out of the woodwork. She slammed her car door and strode toward the building, wondering how her community would calmly discuss two murders. She wore the Goonies cap pulled low on her face and kept her coat collar high, preferring to not be noticed.
“Hey, Madison.”
Knowing that voice, she turned and faced the tall man. So much for staying under the radar. “Uncle Rod. I’m a little surprised to see you here.”
“A double murder in the city limits? You bet I’m curious.” Her mother’s brother had been the only male relative in Madison’s life since her father’s death. Even though he lived on the outskirts of Bartonville, he rarely mixed with the townspeople. Madison appreciated him. He was one of the few people who didn’t eye her with sympathy, wondering why she kept to herself. He simply accepted her for who she was.