Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

S hane was in his office and felt a wave of frustration when he checked his email and saw that Taylor hadn’t gotten back yet about the Colburn’s social media. Moving on, he was halfway through organizing his notes from the Cotton Timmons interview when the phone on his desk buzzed. He picked it up to find Missy Ann, the Colburns’ eldest daughter on the line.

“I just wanted to call and get an update,” she said. “Do you have anything yet? We’re having visitation down at the funeral home tomorrow and I know people are going to be asking.”

She sounded sad and defeated.

“I understand, Missy Ann, but you just tell them the investigation is ongoing, and you can’t talk about anything like that.”

“But do you? Have anything, I mean?”

He sighed. “We’re working on it. You focus on the rest of your family and getting through this tragedy.”

“I’m trying but I don’t think we’re going to be able to do that until we have answers, Detective Weaver. Is there anything I can do to help? Please, anything at all.”

He paused. “For the most part, no, but I did want to ask you about one of your parents’ neighbors. Cotton Timmons. Does that ring a bell?”

“Yes, I know who you’re talking about. They weren’t friends—Cotton and my parents. He’s a jerk.”

“I’ve gathered that,” Shane said. “It appears that he was angry about a dog crossing into his property, possibly killing his chickens.”

She scoffed over the phone. “He said that, but Biscuit wouldn’t hurt a flea. He’s the gentlest dog in the world. Also, my parents had chickens for a while, and he would lay right in the middle of them and never react whatsoever. Daddy told Timmons he wanted proof that Biscuit did anything wrong or was even on his property and, the next thing you know, Mama found a bag of dog crap in the mailbox. Wasn’t tied up in a bag either and she stuck her hand right in it getting the mail.”

“And you think Timmons put it there?” Shane asked, taking a note.

“Well, what do you think? I mean—it’s pretty obvious. Daddy called him and told him they were going to put a camera up and, if they caught him anywhere near our mailbox or on our property, he was going to have him arrested for trespassing.”

“Sounds like it got ugly.”

“It did, but that happened last year. That I know of, it all simmered down.”

“Oh, okay,” Shane said. People could hold grudges for a long time, and he wasn’t going to tell her about the recent text messages from Timmons to her mom. He didn’t need her flying off the handle and accusing Timmons of the crime before the investigation put together more. They at least needed his DNA before he lawyered up.

“Will you be at the funeral home tonight?” she asked, her voice soft again.

“I’m not sure. I’ll try. ”

She paused. “I have just heard that, in crimes like this, sometimes the killer will come around the services. I thought you might want to look around and see who is there.”

“That’s not always true but, if I can make it, I will. I would definitely like to see the sign-in log if you put one out. Also, Missy Ann, as we are collecting DNA, I wanted to ask you if you can think of anyone other than family who was in your parents’ home recently? Any neighbors? Timmons? Cleaners, repairmen—anyone that you know of so that we can begin an elimination process.”

“No repairmen or cleaners. My parents did everything on their own and Daddy could fix anything. He did the kitchen remodel himself, along with help from Seth, and sometimes Ronnie. Oh, Mama’s Bible study group met there sometimes but it’s been a long time since it was her turn. I know because she always invites me, though I never go. I probably should. I should’ve been spending every minute I could with her. If I could go back …” she trailed off.

“Okay, Missy Ann. I think that’s all I have for you right now. I’ll call you if anything else comes up,” Shane said. He didn’t want to be talking to her if she started crying.

They said their goodbyes and he’d just hung up the phone when it rang again.

“Hello.”

“Shane, the sheriff wants you in the conference room,” Dottie’s familiar, curt tone came through the line.

“What’s going on?” Shane asked, though he had an idea.

“Those two GBIs are here. Both of ’em look like they’ve never set foot in the woods a day in their lives. Dawkins wants you to bring him—and them—up to speed.”

Shane exhaled sharply, his irritation already mounting. “On my way.”

He grabbed the Colburn case notebook and headed for the conference room. The low murmur of voices spilled into the hallway before he even reached the door.

Inside, Sheriff Dawkins sat at the head of the table, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. Flanking him were two sharply dressed strangers. The woman had an air of quiet authority, her dark suit crisp and professional. Her hair was pulled back, her posture rigid, her eyes sharp as they scanned the room. The man beside her had a slightly more casual air, his jacket slung over one chair and his tie loosened, though the intensity in his gaze betrayed his laid-back exterior.

The massive board against the wall had grown since Shane last saw it. The photos of Jane, Willis, Seth, and Erin Colburn stared back at him, along with images of the snowy property, bloody footprints, and evidence bags. A web of red string connected time-stamped photos and notes. It was the kind of thing the GBI loved—big and theatrical, designed to intimidate and impress.

He had his own version on the wall in his office, but much less busy and dramatic. He didn’t need to see their faces staring at him every day from the board; they were already imprinted in his mind. And in his notebook.

“Weaver,” Dawkins said when Shane stepped in. “Let me introduce you. This is Special Agent Maeve Hanson and Agent Jared Tuffin from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation.”

Shane nodded to each of them, shaking their hands in turn. “Detective Shane Weaver,” he said.

“Detective Weaver,” Hanson said, her voice as no-nonsense as her appearance. “As you know, we’ve been brought in to assist. Sheriff Dawkins says you’ve been leading the legwork on this case.”

“That’s right,” Shane replied, taking a seat at the table.

“Good,” Tuffin said, leaning forward on his elbows. “We’re two weeks in without a prime suspect, so I think it’s best that we all work on the same team from here on out. Sorry to put you on the spot like this, but I’d like to hear a full update, start to finish from your notes so far. Let’s see where we’re at and figure out where to go from here.”

Dawkins gestured for Shane to begin.

Shane felt his blood pressure rising and throbbing in his body, but he took a deep breath, setting the Colburn notebook on the table and flipping it open. “You already know the basics—Jane and Willis Colburn, along with their son and daughter-in-law, Seth and Erin Colburn—were all found dead on the morning of December 25th at the family cabin. Jane and Willis were located outside, in and in front of an outbuilding, while Seth and Erin were found inside, one in the living room and the other in the kitchen.”

Hanson’s sharp eyes flicked to the board and their photos as Shane spoke. “Cause of death?”

They already knew this, but Shane complied.

“Multiple gunshot wounds for all four. Preliminary forensics suggests the same weapon was used for all the victims, based on the bullets recovered. None of the four slain Colburns owned a weapon matching the shell casings found, so we’re working on the assumption it belonged to the killer.”

“And no weapon recovered?” Tuffin asked.

“Not yet,” Shane said. “The property’s pretty vast, and I still have deputies and forensics—as you know—combing through it. Tomorrow I’ll be out checking more local pawn shops and gun stores for any recent purchases that match the weapons used.”

“What about signs of forced entry?” Hanson asked.

“None,” Shane replied. “The house doors were locked, no broken windows, and nothing inside looked disturbed beyond the violence itself. It’s possible the killer was someone they knew or trusted enough to let inside. ”

Hanson nodded thoughtfully, jotting a quick note on a pad in front of her.

Shane continued. “We’ve got the phone records for Jane and Willis. They didn’t tell us much, except for a heated text exchange between Jane and a neighbor, Cotton Timmons, the day before the murders. Timmons has a reputation around town for being difficult, and the texts included some pretty explicit threats about their dog.” He paused to pull out the relevant pages and slid them across the table toward Hanson and Tuffin. He didn’t include the notes about the call with Missy Ann or the suspicion that Timmons put excrement in the Colburns’ mailbox.

Hanson skimmed them quickly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“This is new to us. Has Timmons been interviewed?” Tuffin asked.

“Yes,” Shane said. “He admitted to sending the texts but denied having anything to do with the murders. Says he was home all day on the 24 th and 25 th with no alibi except his dog.”

“And you believe him?” Hanson asked, her expression neutral.

Shane shrugged. “Hard to say. He’s got a temper, but nothing solid yet ties him to the murders, and he has a somewhat firm alibi. I’m waiting on Judge Crawford to sign a warrant for his DNA so we can see if we can match anything at the scene.”

“Good,” she said. “I’ll make sure that’s expedited. If he’s lying, I want to know.”

“I’ve already asked it to be rushed,” Shane said, his tone even. “The judge is aware of the circumstances.”

What did they think? That he was an idiot?

“I want a stab at him,” Tuffin said. “Schedule him again, for tomorrow.”

“I can give you his number,” Shane said. He wasn’t anyone’s secretary. Tuffin could do his own damn scheduling.

“What about the other neighbors?” Tuffin asked.

“I’ve talked to a couple of them,” Shane replied. “Most didn’t see or hear anything unusual, but they did mention knowing about the longstanding tension between the Colburns and Cotton Timmons over the dog situation.”

“And the family angle?” Hanson pressed.

Shane hesitated and decided not to mention Clyde Colburn. He wasn’t done with him yet and didn’t want Tuffin stomping on it. “Still working on interviews but, so far, nothing of note. The bank records for the senior Colburns are on the way, but the eldest daughter has looked through and already said nothing is out of the norm. The Vegas story from their youngest daughter who lives on the property with her fiancé so far checks out. All way down to a statement from the dispatch of the service they called to change their flat tire. I’ve done some background intel on both of them, Raya and Ronnie, and it’s all average small town citizen stuff. They both work retail, and my deputy has verified their employment.”

“And Erin Colburn’s mother? Wasn’t she on scene first?” Hanson asked.

“Yes, she was. Nancy Hurst. She was first on scene and discovered the first two bodies, unfortunately. We’ve interviewed her a few times now, but she hasn’t offered much insight as to any motives floating around out there. She claims her daughter and son-in-law are squeaky clean.”

Tuffin nodded, satisfied. “Alright. So tell me, what’s your read on this so far, Deputy Weaver?”

Shane frowned, leaning back in his chair. “My gut says this wasn’t random. The killer knew the family and likely had a specific motive. It could possibly be tied to the dispute with Timmons, or something financial with someone else. But until we get more evidence, it’s hard to say.”

“Agreed,” Tuffin said. “But let’s not rule out the possibility of a hired job. If the Colburns were involved in anything shady, that could explain the level of precision here. I want every public record on anything they’ve bought or sold in the last two decades.”

Dawkins grunted. “Shady or not, they weren’t exactly the type to have enemies. This is a small town, and everyone knew the Colburns as a quiet family.”

“You can put one of the deputies on gathering the public records,” Shane said. “I’m working on my own list of priorities first.”

Hanson stood, crossing to the board and studying it in silence for a moment. “Alright, here’s the plan. Weaver, you stay on the neighbors and family. See who else you can dig up. Get those financials and phone records processed ASAP. The sheriff and I will handle the warrant on Timmons, and we’ll serve it. Tuffin, you dive into the Colburns’ history today and see if there’s anything in their past worth killing for. Anything Weaver may have missed.”

Shane nodded, though his jaw tightened. He hated the way Hanson took control like this was her case. But talk was talk, and Shane had every intention investigating where and what he wanted to, without waiting on Hanson’s orders or permission.

“We’ll regroup tomorrow morning,” Hanson said. “By then, I want updates on all fronts.”

Shane left the room feeling both determined and frustrated. Dawkins was right on his tail and cornered him at the end of the hall.

“Check that attitude, Weaver,” he warned. “And you’d better not be holding anything back from the GBI or you might just find yourself pulled off and out there investigating something else, like whose dog shit on the town square this week.”

“Noted.” Shane kept walking. It was ironic that Dawkins mentioned the dog shit, but he still wasn’t giving that detail up yet. He also wasn’t going to check his attitude. This was his town, his case, and his people. If GBI thought they could swoop in and solve it without him, they had another thing coming.