He stooped and picked up the handgun he’d dropped when Kruger kicked him. He’d taken it off a stupid kid a few months before and kept it, just in case he would need a gun to toss next to a suspect. He slid it into his pocket. He’d planned to use the throwaway weapon to kill Kruger and Dane before they’d gotten away.

He hadn’t expected to have to hunt them down. Kruger’s rush had thrown a wrench into his plans. He should have expected it. The PI was more dangerous than he’d thought. He wouldn’t underestimate him again.

The rifle felt balanced and comfortable in his hands. It would do. He closed the trunk and turned to the woods.

Time to go hunting.

Chapter Forty-Five

Sharp left the store with a new phone in his hand, his account data freshly downloaded from his cloud account to the device. A series of messages from Lance popped onto the screen. Sharp read them, stunned by the news that someone had tried to kill Jenny in the ICU, and that Stan was now the top suspect. He dialed Lance’s number, but the call went directly to voice mail.

He left a message. “Call me after you and Morgan question Stan. One of the boys set up a meeting for me with someone who was at the sheriff’s station on August 10, 1994. I’ll let you know if I learn anything interesting.”

Sharp pressed “End,” slid his phone into his pocket, and drove to the meeting location, Bridge Park. He stopped his Prius in front of the Revolutionary War monument and parked next to an old Chevy Chevette at the base of the old stone bridge that spanned the Scarlet River. A figure hunched on one of the three wooden benches facing the water.

Sharp zipped his jacket, making sure his sidearm was accessible. He might not like to carry a weapon, but considering the rate people were dropping in this case, he’d make an exception.

He got out of the car. Snow fell in lazy eddies of wind and gathered on the grass as he walked across it.

The figure on the bench stood. “Are you Sharp?”

“Ned?”

“Yes.” Ned eased back onto the bench. He was in his seventies. The black wool coat and fedora he wore were old and threadbare.

“We could have met somewhere warmer.” Sharp turned his face away from the wind.

Ned shook his head. “This meeting is not public. I’m only talking to you because I owe Bill. He pulled my kid out of a car wreck years ago.” He craned his neck to give the area a nervous scan.

“What are you afraid of?” Sharp asked.

“Have you seen all the dead people lately?” Ned’s tone hinted that his fear was justified and obvious. “Bill says you’re investigating the skeleton they pulled out of the lake a few days ago.”

“Yes,” Sharp said. “The skeleton was identified as Mary Fox. She disappeared August 10, 1994. Bill tells me you were working that night.”

Ned nodded. “But no one knows I saw anything, and that’s exactly how I want it to stay.” He took a deep, audible breath. “I was a janitor in those days. I took care of the sheriff’s station and a couple of other small county buildings. Sheriff’s station got cleaned twice a week.” He toyed with a hole in the thumb of his black leather glove. “I was in the maintenance closet, getting ready to mop floors. There was a commotion in the hallway. The door was open a couple of inches. I looked out. The sheriff, he was Chief Deputy King back then, he was bringing a young woman in through the back door.”

A chill settled low in Sharp’s gut. Mary?

Ned continued. “There wasn’t a camera covering every single inch of the station in those days. The back corridor was a blind spot. Deputy Walsh was struggling with a drunk. King cuffed the woman to a ring next to the payphone that used to be there. He handed her a quarter, told her to make her call, and went to help Walsh. The drunk was raising a ruckus, shouting and cursing and thrashing around. Neither King nor Walsh had any patience left. They beat on him, then it got real quiet.”

Lou Ford.

Ned paused to catch his breath. He raised his eyes and stared out over the river. “I backed into the dark part of that closet. I didn’t want either of them to know I saw. I didn’t come out until they were both gone.”

“What happened to the woman?” Sharp asked.

“I heard King offer her a deal. He’d drop the charges against her if she promised to keep her mouth shut about what she saw.” Ned paused. “He took her right out the back door. Never brought her inside the station.”

King might have offered Mary a deal, but he didn’t live up to his end of the bargain.

Ned set his hands on his thighs and pushed to his feet. “I don’t know anything else. That’s all I saw.” He raised a hand, palm toward Sharp. “Before you ask, I will not testify. Nor will I admit this conversation ever took place. Not unless King is six feet underground or in a prison cell. He isn’t the kind of man who lets things go.”

“You think Sheriff King is killing people?” Sharp asked.

“There ain’t anybody else left. Walsh moved to Florida. I heard he was dying.” Ned shivered. “Walsh, he was shook up when he realized the prisoner was dead, but King just shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. The sheriff is one cold-blooded SOB.”

“Thank, Ned.”

“Nothing to thank me for. We never talked.” Ned walked toward the beat-up Chevy.

Sharp went back to his car and stared the engine. Holding his hands to the heat vents, he chewed Ned’s revelation down to the bone.

King must have killed Mary.

Once Sharp’s brain made that connection, everything stared to make sense. Events slid into place, clicking like the tumblers in a lock when the right key was inserted. They’d thought King was running a parallel investigation. In reality, he had known all the players ahead of time and had used his investigation time to kill off any potential witnesses.

If Brian had dropped Mary back at PJ’s that night, Mary must have been arrested at the same time as Lou Ford. The other two men had been taken directly to the ER. It made sense that every deputy on duty had been called to the bar fight. At least one would have accompanied the additional two men to the ER. If King saw Mary proposition someone, he might have arrested her too. If P. J. saw King arrest Mary, then once Mary’s body turned up and they connected Mary’s death to the bar fight . . .

They’d put those pieces together right in the sheriff’s conference room, which put Sharp, Lance, and Morgan all at risk.

Sharp picked up his phone, a sick feeling rolling around in his belly. He dialed Lance. Still no answer. Sharp’s unease grew as he tried Morgan’s line. She didn’t pick up either. He sent them each a text. Morgan, always worried about family emergencies, paid close attention to her phone.

Sharp lowered his phone to his leg, his brain still churning out possibilities.

What happened to Vic? And why kill Crystal and try to kill Jenny?

What if Mary made that phone call? She would have called Crystal. So Crystal would have known that Mary had been in the station. Was King eliminating anyone who knew that he’d arrested Mary that night?

P. J. and Crystal could have been able to link King and Mary on August 10, a connection that didn’t matter until Mary’s body turned up. But Sharp had no theories about how Vic or Jenny played into the scenario.

His phone buzzed a few seconds later. Hoping it was Lance, Sharp snapped it up. Disappointment filled him as he read the name of his Florida PI contact on the screen.