Allison Brennan - Sudden Death

Perez stared at Megan. “He was.” Then he left.

“He certainly doesn’t like Jack,” Hans said thoughtfully.

“Was anything he said true?” If Jack knew something that would help in this investigation, why didn’t he say something? Megan didn’t like being deceived or manipulated.

The desk sergeant led them to the evidence room and put the files in front of them.

An hour later, Megan stood up and stretched. Perez had spent more time tracing Jack’s steps than following his own investigation. And Jack had done what she’d have done were she investigating the murder. But he wasn’t a cop, and he had overstepped his bounds. Perez had some justifiable reasons to arrest him, though certainly not to allow three armed men in to attack him. Meg wasn’t sure the chief of police hadn’t known about that.

“There’s not much here,” Barker said. “Perez was more interested in following Kincaid; that’s where all the info came from. We should talk to him.”

“He’s at the rectory,” Hans said. “We’ve been working with him.”

But he didn’t share this information with us. She didn’t know what, if anything, Jack had learned about Scout’s murder, but she had a few choice words for him. If he didn’t answer her questions right she’d put him in jail herself.

Barker stuffed a piece of gum in his mouth and said, “Perez fucked up the collection of evidence. How could he let so many people contaminate the crime scene? The kid, the kid’s mother-”

Hern said, “She was Scout’s girlfriend.”

“-the priest, Kincaid, a half dozen cops. I swear, half of Hidalgo walked through that house before Perez sealed off the place.”

Hans said, “My boss has given us priority use of the trace evidence lab, just let me know what you need. They’re already working on two of the other murders and maybe something will come from this one that will help.

Hern said, “We appreciate the help.”

“There’s no autopsy report,” Megan said. “Wouldn’t the autopsy have been done by now?”

“I’ll ask the sergeant,” Barker said and left the evidence room.

“Is the body here?” Megan asked.

“Probably up in Edinburg, at the morgue. Twenty minutes or so north.”

Megan glanced at Hans. “We need that report. I’d like to talk to the supervising pathologist as well. Compare the marks on Johnson and Perry with Scout.”

“Agreed,” Hans said. “Would you like to join us?” he asked the Ranger.

“One of us will,” Ted said. “We’ll also want to follow up on the witness statements from El Gato. And no one talked to the girlfriend or her kids.”

“Do you want to follow us back to the rectory, then we can split the interviews?” Hans asked. “Meg and I are headed to Las Vegas tomorrow morning if nothing breaks here. We have a meeting with the coroner and investigating officer.”

“I didn’t know the FBI sent teams around the country. I thought you folks were regional.”

“Special circumstances,” Hans said.

Barker returned. “No report. I called the morgue and they haven’t done the autopsy yet. I told them to hold until we got there, unless you don’t need to see it. For us, we can take the report.”

“Same here,” Megan said, “but I’d like to observe.”

Hern said, “We’ll meet you at the rectory in thirty minutes.”

They shook hands, and Hans and Megan left. When they drove up to the rectory, Jack stood on the front porch looking at the sky. “The rain finally came,” he said.

The first fat drop fell from the sky as Megan got out of the Jeep.

“Did you learn anything?” he asked.

“Plenty,” Megan said. “Were you going to tell me about the interviews you conducted, or was I supposed to learn about your private investigation from the police chief’s reports?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t learn anything that you can use.”

“What were you expecting to find? Fingerprints? A receipt from the local motel? And how do you know what I can use? How many murders have you investigated? How many have you solved? This is my responsibility, not yours, and I will not allow anyone to withhold information without serious consequences.”

Jack stepped forward. Within seconds the rain turned from fat droplets to a downpour. “Scout is my responsibility. Don’t think for a minute that I’m going to back down. If I thought anything I learned was important, I’d have-” He stopped.

“What?” Megan demanded.

“Scout’s tags.”

She blanched. “How do you know about the dog tags?”

“What do you know?”

She raised an eyebrow and didn’t say anything. If this arrogant soldier thought she owed him any explanation or information …

Jack said, “For what it’s worth, I planned on telling you about the missing tag, but with the events last night, it slipped my mind.”

“Tag? One tag was missing?” Just like Price.

“Scout had only one tag-the other was pulled when he went down four years ago on his last mission. Fell off a cliff, broke his back. They couldn’t move him without a chopper, so pulled a tag just in case. So he wore only the one, and it wasn’t on his body. No chain, no tag. Is that the same as the others?”

“Not exactly. Price was missing one of the two tags, and the killers sent it to me. But Johnson and Perry- Johnson’s sons have his tags, and I’m still trying to get word from Vegas about Perry.”

“Why would the killers take Scout’s identification? To dehumanize him?” Jack tensed.

“Maybe they’re planning on sending it to someone else. Or to me.” She frowned. “Hans, what’s going on here? I’d think they were keeping souvenirs, but they’re not. They’re using them for something.”

Hans said, “We’re getting drenched. Let’s talk about this inside.” He walked into the rectory, expecting them to follow.

Jack and Megan stared at each other in the rain.

Her anger had dissipated, surprising her. Jack was used to being in charge, but it didn’t bother her because even when he was pushy, he wasn’t manipulative. So much like her father, her brother-she felt as if she already knew Jack Kincaid and how his sharp mind worked. It was comfortable, like meeting up with an old friend after years apart.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I should have told you last night. I meant to.”

“I’m sorry I snapped. I know you feel responsible for Scout, but we’re on the same team.”

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

Her smile faltered when Jack reached out and brushed back strands of her hair that had fallen out of her knot. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked in his eyes. His dark stare was so intense, so powerful, that for a moment she was mesmerized, caught in a trap she didn’t want to escape. His rough fingers skimmed her face, down her neck, a light touch that made her shiver in anticipation of more.

When his hand dropped to his side, Megan could finally let out her breath.

Jack said, “I’ll fill you in on everything I did yesterday. I don’t know if it’s going to help, but it’s worth a shot.”

Ethan woke to nothing.

No movement, no noise. He froze and listened. Distant cars moving fast. Birds chirped and squawked. A motor, but not the truck.

He sat up, looked around. Where was she? She’d left him. Deserted him. Just like the army.

The gunfire was so loud but unreal at the same time. Pop-pop-pop. Poppoppoppoppop. A machine gun spewing out bullets. One nicked Ethan in the arm. He looked down and saw blood. Just a bit. Nothing to worry about.

He was in the middle of a firefight! He wished he had a camera, but on this clandestine mission cameras were forbidden. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. His first real firefight. He pulled out a notebook and rapidly jotted down words and phrases. 103 degrees. Dry and dusty. Arid. Flashes of gunfire. Brows beaded with sweat and tension. A precision team. Well oiled. Well trained. America’s elite. Fighters. Killers. Comrades. Oh, that was good!