With Jade now safely ensconced in his office, Mitch began to assign duties. “Burt, I want you on the computer finding everything you can about George, the Carsons, their fishing business and bank accounts. Sam, while you’re on patrol, talk to anyone who might have known him well. I’ve informed the mayor that our resources are spread thin, but we’ll do the best we can. Lance, you and Grant head to George’s house. Comb through it and see what you can find out.” He looked over at him and, rubbing his chin, said, “Lance…I know you’re supposed to be part-time right now, but we could really use your investigative skills in this case. Tell you what, Ginny, I’m reassigning you to go with Lance and Grant to George’s house, but after he has a chance to look around I want Lance back here with me. He and I’ll talk to Skip to find out why no one reported George missing. Then we’ll talk to the Carsons and take a trip to visit George’s son in the Indian Creek Correctional Center in Chesapeake.”

“What about Jade?” he asked.

Mitch thought for a moment before shaking his head. “We don’t have the personnel to give her full-time protection and haven’t made a connection between her and George. The only thing I can think of is for her to stay here at the police station.”

His heart plunged, knowing how she would hate that suggestion, but he was also unwilling to leave her unprotected.

“She can ride with me for part of the day,” Sam suggested. “It’ll get her out of the station and I can make sure she’s protected.”

“Can she be with others, as well?” Ginny asked. “If she’s at the pub, I know Brogan and Aiden will protect her.”

Lance nodded, saying, “Maybe a combination of those…part of the day with Sam and part of the day at the pub.” Looking at Ginny, he asked, “Will you talk to Brogan? Let him know what’s going on?”

“Done,” she said, standing and leaving the room as she pulled her phone out.

“I agree,” Mitch said. “As long as she’s protected and moving around, she should be safe.” Looking back at Lance, he added, “You good for working this case? I know we have to keep a check on your hours and not exceed what you’re being paid for.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, receiving appreciative nods from all in the room.

* * *

Lance pulled up behind Ginny and Grant’s SUV in the weed-infested, gravel driveway of George’s house, set back from the road with few other houses visible. Climbing out of his vehicle, he stood for a moment, hands on his hips, surveying the area. Tall weeds in the yard, a sagging front porch, and a window shutter that hung at an awkward angle.

“Wow,” Ginny said, as they approached the porch. “This looks terrible.”

“I know he worked all day, only hired a few seasonal workers at a time on his boat, but still, I would have thought with his restaurant connections he would be doing better than this,” Grant surmised.

Lance interjected, “We’ll know more once Burt has a chance to look into his finances.” They entered a hall that appeared to run the length of the house, beneficial for allowing a breeze to blow on hot days. He was halted by the sight of the living room, closely resembling Jade’s in its destruction. The couch had been pulled from the wall and slashed with cushions tossed to the floor. The TV was left unmolested, but the easy chair had been destroyed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Grant cursed, stepping into the room, snapping on his gloves.

Ginny walked in the opposite direction. He looked over his shoulder as she entered the dining room that appeared to not be used for eating, with its table scattered with bills, magazines, and newspapers.

The kitchen opened to the back of the dining area, exposing a sink, cluttered with a few dishes, and old appliances. The cabinets had been opened and the contents scattered all about. The refrigerator and freezer doors stood open but they were unable to ascertain if anything had been taken. Drawers had been emptied and the floor contained the remnants of the search.

He moved toward the back, entering a bedroom on the left that appeared to be the master. The mattress had been slashed, women’s clothing scattered from the open dresser drawers. The musty scent made him wonder if George had slept in this room at all since his wife died. Moving to the closet, his thoughts were confirmed when he saw the only clothing was a woman’s. The closet had been searched but, other than clothes off hangers, there was nothing else there.

Moving across the hall, into what may have at one time been the son’s room, the bed was also slashed, but the room appeared to have been lived in recently. George’s clothes were in the closet and on the floor.

As his appraisal moved over the house, he shook his head. What would George have that someone was looking for and why would someone think Jade had it?

* * *

Jade sat in Mitch’s office, in the old, squeaky chair behind his desk, twirling out of boredom. Looking up as Lance came in, she smiled.

Lance had left Ginny and Grant to complete the sweep of George’s house, and headed back to the station to report to Mitch and check on Jade. Finding her spinning, he met her smile. “Bored?”

“God, yes! I went out with Sam for a while and that was interesting…for about twenty minutes.”

“Well, I’m taking you to the pub and leaving you there while Mitch and I make a run into Chesapeake to talk to George’s son.”

At the mention of George, Jade’s smile left and she heaved a sigh. Not wanting to be a pest, she nodded and said, “That’s fine. Whatever I need to do.” Standing, she added, “But this can only continue for the next couple of days, you know. Monday morning I’ve got to be back at school.”

Lance said nothing in return, but wondered how that would work, if they were no closer to finding George’s murderer.

* * *

From the doorway, Lance observed the meeting room at the Indian Creek Correctional Center. He learned from Mitch that the ICCC was an intensive, long-term, institution based treatment program for incarcerated substance abusing offenders. George’s son, Anthony, had been held in the medium security, dormitory designed facility for three years and was scheduled to be released in about six more months.

Walking in, they sat down at the table where Anthony was already sitting. The clean-cut young man reached his hand out in greeting as they were introduced.

“I know you’ve come about my father,” Anthony said, his voice shaky. “I’ll be able to attend his funeral, but…” sighing, “I can’t believe I never had the chance to stay goodbye. I hate that the last thing he thought about me was that I was a still here and not out yet. Fuck…we had plans.”

“When was the last time you spoke to your father?” Mitch asked.

Rubbing his forehead, Anthony replied, “I called him on his birthday, which was about two months ago. We chatted for the ten minutes I was allowed and I haven’t talked to him since. I would’ve emailed, but he never got into computers, so that left us with just the phone calls.”

Anthony shook his head, his lips pinched together.

“Did that bother you? About the computer?”

“Yeah, sure it did. I don’t mean just so I could have talked to him more, but even for his business. Dad still used the phone to make calls, set up restaurant contracts…hell, everything. He could have done so much more with his business if he’d stayed up to date with technology.”

“You mentioned plans earlier. Can you elaborate?”

“When I was growing up, the last thing I wanted to be was a fisherman like Dad. You know, typical teenage rebellion. I never wanted to go to college, but thought about working on cars or something like that. Hell, I even thought about joining the military at one time. Anything but smelling like fish all the time.” Shrugging, he admitted, “But I got in with the proverbial wrong crowd. Started doing stupid shit like staying out half the night, smoking weed, then moved on to coke. Tried heroin, but coke was my drug of choice. I got my hands on it easily from a supplier and then started selling. Hell, I thought I was the shit, man. I made more in a week than my dad made in a month or more out on his boat fishing from sunup to sundown.”

Lance noted as Anthony grew introspective, a blanket of sadness settling over the young man. He had no idea if it was from past screw-ups or getting caught. “Something change with your dad in recent times?”

Anthony’s gaze jumped to his before sliding over to Mitch. “Detox was a bitch and I hated the counseling at first, but I gotta tell you, I don’t want to be back in here again. I also know that it’ll be hard getting a decent job when I get out, so I got to thinking about my dad in a different light. He was his own boss. Worked hard but, at the end of the day, he got paid decently for what he did. He spent his days outdoors, not stuck in some cubicle somewhere.” Sighing, he added, “After Mom died, Dad was lost, but seemed excited when I started talking about joining him when I got out. Said he had some plans for increasing the business. Said he wanted to buy a bigger boat. I remember he got kinda jealous when the Carsons bought a new boat.”

“Was there competition between them?”

Chuckling, he nodded. “Sure…they worked in the same bay for their whole lives, competing for the fishing business and contracts. But the Carsons are up on technology while Dad was still in the dark ages.”

Mitch explained, “When your father’s house was entered by my officers this morning, it had been broken into and tossed. It appears someone was searching for something…drawers emptied, sofa and mattresses slashed.”

Anthony leaned back, his eyes wide.

Continuing, Mitch asked, “Can you think what your father would have had that someone wanted?”

Shaking his head, Anthony replied, “Seriously? No. When Mom was alive, she kept a neat house, but neither of them liked a lot of stuff just sitting around, so it was kind of sparse. I wouldn’t be surprised that Dad slacked off with just him there. But…but…fuck, man, that makes no sense. I know Dad said he was saving for a new boat, but he had his money in the bank. There’s nothing there that anyone would have wanted.” Squirming, he added, “Of course, I’ve been here a while and haven’t been home, but I can’t imagine Dad changing.”

Lance observed Anthony carefully, “Can you think of a reason why someone would want to murder your dad?”

Anthony winced at the word murder, but shook his head. “Dad? Jesus, he wasn’t hurting anybody. Never had…never would.” He held Lance’s gaze when he added, “I mean, who the hell would gain from Dad’s death?”

As Mitch and Lance drove back across the long Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, he pondered the question he had asked Anthony. Who would benefit from George’s murder…and why would they think Jade was involved?