Previously: Shauna confirms Wolfrun isn’t all that geographical.
Riley breathed a sigh of relief when Scott Mallory tripped over his ex-wife’s garden gnome and rolled ass-over-tea-kettle into her legs. It was much too early for chasing and tackling.
“Alright,” she yelled over the man’s squawking. “In you go. Watch your head.”
“No, listen to me!” he demanded. “Hey, I pay your sal—” he managed before the Sheriff’s Department cruiser door shut in his face.
Deputy Hollenbeck rolled his eyes. “Never heard that one before.”
“At my old precinct, there were four phrases our unit chief would put a dollar in a jar for, so long as we got it on our body cams. ‘Salaries’ was most popular. Once the jar was full, we’d order in take-out.” They shared a laugh and ducked back into the house, stepping over broken glass and tufts of couch guts.
“I’m pressing charges,” was the first thing out of Avery Mallory’s mouth.
Hollenbeck side-eyed her. “Rock, paper, scissors for the booking paperwork?”
“You’re on.”
Riley’s fingers had deadened to the first knuckle by the time she’d returned from the Sheriff’s Station’s holding cells. She left Hollenbeck at his desk with the paperwork he’d won by losing best-two-out-of-three—dude went for rock every time—and found the morgue’s entrance around the back of the station. The doors were locked, but there were several people in the building—dead, of course, given she’d gone numb past the wrist. The faint taste of the killer’s signature welled in the back of her throat, proving John Doe’s body remained in residence. Too bad Riley couldn’t get a signature off an inanimate object. It would’ve been nice to know if she’d spent last night in the the swampy innards of Doe’s rental or if she’d done a bunch of evidence work for a case of insurance fraud.
Riley gripped her steering wheel as she regained more sensation in her hands with every mile towards her own station. Probably best Shauna hadn’t been in. She’d have been too tempted to ask for a tour of the racks to get rid of the pins and needles, like it was a perfectly normal request for her to gawk at bodies unrelated to a case.
Anne’s face brightened when she walked in. “Oh, don’t you look spiffy. I didn’t think you were scheduled today.”
Riley tugged at the collar of her new uniform blues for the hundredth time. “Ross called me in to cover the morning shift. Catch anything exciting while I was out?”
“I had some messages about hunters up in arms over trap and tent tampering.” Anne rolled her eyes. “There were plenty of calls from concern citizens about that structure fire yesterday, too.”
“Anyone injured?”
She rested a hand on her chest. “No, thank goodness. It was an old shed near Campton Scrap Yard. It hadn’t been used in ages.”
Kellen breezed in, barely on time for their shift change, and greeted them both with a, “Good morning.”
Anne beamed as he passed. “Well, seems like he’s lost that chip off his shoulder. He really is such a nice man. Losing a close friend is tough, so I’ve cut him some slack.”
There were these magical little devices that allowed communications across great distances in this day and age. Eli hadn’t died. If they both made the effort to remain invested in each other’s lives, they could maintain their friendship. Kellen had been making an effort to be nicer, so she’d return the same courtesy and keep her unkind thoughts to herself. Riley should take her own advice and call the friends she’d left behind in Cincinnati, so she couldn’t throw that particular stone without getting blow-back anyway.
In the bullpen, Riley pulled a blue sticky note off her computer with a simple ‘see me’ in Ross’s scrawl. Across the room, Kellen held up a matching one. They approached the chief’s office together.
“You’re kidding me,” Ross growled into the cell phone mashed against his ear. He’d slumped behind his desk, clicking his mouse like he meant to put a finger through it. He waved a mug in the air to let them know he’d be a moment. “We’re stretched thinner… I can’t be gone for… no, I understand. Fine.” He let the cell drop to his desk. Good thing he had one of those unbreakable phone cases. “Patrol?”
Riley rested her hands on her belt. “Ex-husband tore up his former home looking for his lucky golf ball. Other than that, all’s calm on the Woodrun front.”
Ross snorted, softening the lines bracketing his mouth. Stress quickly replaced them. “Okay, so, Andy’s down in Kalimon dealing with parents and administrators of some college idiots who dragged their prank war up here on their camping trip, Greg’s on the arsons with Tony, and I’ve been called away to Waverly County to give a deposition on a case I assisted with six months ago.”
Riley shared a resigned glance with Kellen. Two officers splitting patrol on top of their Doe case? Not ideal.
“I don’t expect to get back until tomorrow evening. Kellen, if you could—“
“Double patrol today? No problem,” he broke in.
“Red, I know I had you down for mid-shift tomorrow—“
“I’ll do a morning-mid double patrol.”
Ross rubbed his face and sighed. “I appreciate it, guys. We’ve got Sheriff Walton and his deputies if needed. Red, the car?”
“No plates, prints, or paperwork, but it had decals for Pritchard Rentals—a small business out of Trenton. I contacted them with the make, model, and VIN. They’re not a franchise, so we shouldn’t have as many legal hoops to jump through to get info. Still might need a warrant. I got what forensics I could and sent it out first thing, but I’m not holding out hope on any results after however long it was in the river. If we get a name off a credit card from the rental company, I’ll consider it time well spent.”
“I’ll put the word out we might need a warrant while I’m on the road.” Ross shooed them back into the bullpen with, “I’ve got a few more calls to make,” and shut the door.
From his desk, Kellen said, “Sorry you had to work the car alone. I didn’t see the message until this morning. It was dumped not ten minutes from the motel, right? You think it’s our Doe’s?”
“It matches close enough to what Clark saw parked out front of the room.”
“That’d be a lucky break.”
Kellen left for patrol as Riley booted her computer. Ross’s shadow swept back and forth behind his office door, betraying his pacing during a muffled conversation. Seven minutes later, he stepped out and shuffled over to Riley’s desk. “I need you to do something else for me.” When she nodded, he asked, “Will you accompany someone to the scene at Clark’s motel this afternoon?”
She patiently waited for him to elaborate.
“It’s a simple consult. I’d planned to take care of it myself before this deposition derailed me. I’ve got pressure to release the scene, so it can’t wait.”
Riley cocked a brow. “A consult on a well-worked crime scene?”
He scratched the back of his neck and looked away. “Another set of unbiased eyes wouldn’t hurt, right?”
Questions failed to trip her weaker truth-seeking, so she tried, “You got a crack detective that owes you a favor? Or are we sucking up to the Feds?”
Ross huffed a laugh. “Nothing like that. But, if you could log it without a full write-up until I get back, I’d appreciate it.”
Shock froze her for a moment. Asking to go over notes before they were entered into the official case record wasn’t done. It skirted too close to shady pre-ALERA shit. Ross deserved the benefit of the doubt, didn’t he? Riley crossed her arms. “Alright. Who am I babysitting?”
“Luke Singer.” Ross winced at the answering expression on her face. “He knows what to do, and what not to do. Like I said, a fresh perspective couldn’t hurt. Luke’s got a good head on his shoulders.” The hopeful glint behind his eyes held an intriguing touch of apprehension.
Riley nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”
He blew out breath, but didn’t look all that relieved—resigned, maybe. “I’ll let him know to meet you there at three?”
“Sure,” she said, not at all sure about the merits of Ross’s request. He left while Riley pondered her next move. She wouldn’t mind getting her hands on Luke again. His knack for wiggling out of her questions with half-truths remained a burr in her side. Andy, Shauna, Ross, and Greg had thrown plenty of those her way, too, but Riley had to work with them on a regular basis. Better to piss off her neighbor with an interrogation than her boss or coworkers.
Obligatory Legal Stuff:
This chapter is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidences are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, locals, and events are coincidental.
No generative AI used. No AI training or scraping allowed.
All rights reserved.
Chapter Title Image created in Canva. Background image from Canva Pro.