Chapter Seven
Hours later, JB stormed into the Crayton Police Department’s new two-story brick building. He’d spent the last hour arguing with Marcy about whether he should stay home and rest or go rattle the police to see what the hell they’d found out on the bombing. Finally, he agreed to make the meeting short and eat a bowl of minestrone soup when he got home. Evidently, she’d added being nearly blown to smithereens as something cured by her famous minestrone, right along with broken legs, gunshot wounds, and the common cold.
No one better try to convince him the explosion had been caused by the water heater blowing up or a gas main rupture. No doubt that’s what the evidence would show. He’d bet money against it. Whoever was behind what was going on in town had crossed the line when they’d involved his ex-wife.
“Where’s Deputy Evans?” he asked the grey-haired sergeant behind the front desk.
“He and that FBI friend of yours are over at what remains of your…uh…” Awkwardness didn’t begin to describe the expression on the sergeant’s face as he cleared his throat. “At what’s left of the tattoo parlor and counseling office.”
JB thanked the man and bolted to his truck. He should have gone by there first, and he would have if his head didn’t hurt so damn bad he couldn’t think straight. And the nausea rumbling through his stomach didn’t speak well of the night to come.
A couple minutes later, he parked his truck parallel to the police tape stretched across the street a block away from the scene. Deputy Evans and Special Agent Landon were deep in conversation a few feet away from the broken down building that used to be Marcy’s office.
Deputy Evans held out his hand as JB approached. “Glad you’re okay.”
The cop’s grip felt firm and genuine.
“What are you doing here, deputy?” JB scanned the area for markers.
“Watching the arson and bomb people do their job. The sheriff will want a full report not just on what they find, but one from me on how they performed.”
Sounded like something Sheriff Davis would insist on. The man always dug deep and then even deeper once he was involved in a case. Plus, being the uncle of one of the victims meant he was involved on an entirely different level.
Landon walked into the conversation. “Good to see you’re still walking around. Shouldn’t you be home resting?”
JB shot him a glance. “Still hanging around I see.”
“I figure since I’m here on the bank robbery, I might as well see if I can lend a hand on this case.”
Might be the appropriate thing to do, but JB wasn’t convinced Landon was being entirely truthful. “Maybe you should let the Crayton Police Department take care of their business. They know when and who to call in for cases involving experts they don’t have on the force. Isn’t that right, Deputy Evans?”
“Right.” Evans agreed as Kennett stared into the air.
Just thought I might be of help.” Landon walked into JB’s space. “What are you doing here anyhow?”
JB might have felt like his head might explode, but his ex-partner provided all the incentive he needed to stay in the moment. “I plan to see who bombed the building where Marcy has…had her office. If that means sticking my nose into the investigation, then so be it.”
Landon poked his finger in JB’s direction. “You’re too damn personally involved to think with anything but your—”
“You might want to stop before you finish that sentence.” JB’s hand fisted as he stepped within an inch of the loudmouth. “Otherwise, I’m gonna plant you in the ground.”
Kennett, the rookie, eased to the side of the combatants.
Deputy Evans cleared his throat. “It’s been a long day, men. Maybe we should take a step back and wait for the experts’ conclusion.”
“All I’m saying is you’re making a lot out of some tattoo parlor getting blown up.” Landon glanced at JB. “Unless you think this is tied into that whole bank robbery episode.”
“Don’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind.” JB relaxed his stance.
“I don’t plan to tell you anything since you’re no longer part of the FBI.” Landon shook his head. “Damn shame.”
“What?”
“I said it’s a damn shame. I thought you were smarter than that.” The special agent narrowed his focus at JB. “And just for the record, I was going to say you were thinking with your heart instead of your head. That’ll get you in trouble every time. Got your last partner, Jennings, killed.”
JB realized Landon was right. Jennings had gone on the last police call to meet an informant. Some young girl who’d come up to him on the street and said she was being used in a child slavery scheme. She’d agreed to meet him the next day with more details but had been so scared she didn’t trust anyone else coming along. Jennings had gone by himself like she wanted. Thought with his heart…not his head. He’d been ambushed and killed at the meeting point.
Evans finished his notes and tucked the pad in his pocket. “What makes you think the target was the tattoo parlor?”
“May be a long shot, but look at the facts,” Landon said. “Their business is closed for a few days. The owners are out of town and can’t be reached. And, from what I’ve heard around town, Cross’s Tattoo Parlor caters to some real lowlifes around the area.”
Kennett straightened.
Landon ambled along the perimeter of the crime scene tape. “Probably nothing more than payback for a bad drug deal.” He crouched to eye something on the ground, then straightened and walked away as his phone rang.
JB turned to the deputy. “What can I do to help?”
No response. He opened his mouth to ask again, but Landon walked back in to the group, so JB decided to wait.
“Just for the record, I’m the one in charge of this case until the sheriff gets back. So don’t go trying to pull anything over on me or my men.” Deputy Evans pulled out his pen and pad. “That goes for both of you.”
JB nodded in recognition. Guess he and Landon had just been put in their place.
Evans looked up. “By the way, JB, Sheriff Davis requested you stay in town until he gets back. Just in case there are any more…problems.”
“Problems? Don’t you find it a little coincidental that Marcy’s been in the line of fire twice ?” JB stepped in front of Evans. “Maybe you ought to see what her uncle thinks.”
Hands on hips and jaw set, the deputy made it clear he didn’t like being told what to do or his decisions being questioned. “The sheriff and I discussed matters when we spoke a few hours ago.”
“And?” Landon asked.
“Her uncle said he’s cutting his vacation short. Should be back by the end of the week.” The deputy lowered his voice. “Coincidences do happen, JB. But I’ll have a cruiser drive by her house every so often.”
JB looped his thumbs in his jean pockets in an effort to appear non-confrontational. He shook his head as he scanned the heap of destruction from the office building.
Evans walked away. “Kennett, call the Crayton Hardware store and have them hold all their tarps just in case we get some rain before the investigators are finished. In fact, take a couple of guys over and pick them up.”
“Before I go, I’ve got something to say about the tattoo parlor theory.” Kennett took a deep breath and blew out a long sigh. “Cross’s is a second-generation business. Never had any trouble with them as long as I’ve been here.”
Sounded the same as when JB’d been the deputy of Crayton.
The rookie’s clear voice rumbled strong. “Second, the owner got called out of town two days ago because his father had a heart attack on a hunting trip in the Canadian outback. They went to bring him home. They weren’t lured out of town.” Kennett thumbed his finger at the debris. “So Special Agent Landon may want to rethink his assumption.”
JB nodded his aching head and cleared his vision momentarily. The rookie was okay. He’d keep him in mind when knowing who to trust came to the forefront. A lawman never knew when he’d need someone not afraid to say what they think.
Landon stepped up beside JB as they watched the police walk away. “So, what’s your take on this?”
“Nobody better try to tell me it was a faulty water heater or a propane leak. Not unless they’ve got good evidence, and nothing else is in the pipeline of possibilities.” JB might not be cozy with this agent, but anything he could do to get info, he’d do, including sharing theories. “You?”
“Like I said before, it’s a damn shame you quit the Bureau.” The man smirked, then turned and walked away.
Sonofabitch. Guess he needed to work on his let’s-be-friends attitude if he wanted any answers from him.
Landon stopped and glanced back. “By the way, how’s your wife doing after this?”
“Ex-wife.” JB wondered why the man was concerned with the health of Marcy. “Fine.”
“Tell her I asked about her. Hope she’s okay.”
No way in hell would he mention Landon to her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea seeing as how you didn’t exactly make a shining impression the first time you met.”
Landon stepped to leave. “You’re probably right. Forget I brought it up.”