Chapter 20

Monday, March 15

9:30 a.m.

"You've got a hell of a lot of nerve coming here, Ms. Brody." Chief of Police Brent Maynor took a seat behind his large oak desk and collapsed back. It seemed the lines in his face had tripled since he'd ambushed her in the hospital, his hair thinner and whitened. A new stoop to his shoulders exaggerated his age in a matter of days. Or maybe she'd just been on so many painkillers, she hadn't noticed how worn he'd gotten.

"It takes a lot of nerve to solve a murder, Chief." Nerve he hadn't had when this town needed it. Leigh and Boucher took the chairs opposite the desk. "So I'll just get right to it. Michelle Cross assaulted your SUV outside Jack's Coffee Garage the same day she disappeared."

"And you think I had a part in what happened to her." The accusation lingered for a string of seconds. "Is that what you believe, Lieutenant Boucher?"

"I'm just here to get the facts, Chief. Way you taught me," her partner said.

Leigh's stomach acid surged upward. The chief had been Boucher's training officer. Funny how he hadn't bothered to mention that during their time together these past few days. Kind of a big conversation to keep to himself.

"The facts are Michelle Cross was a very disturbed woman. She was convinced she had the right to come into this office, to follow me home, to call me incessantly about a case I closed twenty years ago in hopes of uncovering new information. She was obsessed. Threw away her entire life because of it." Chief Maynor set both hands against the edge of his desk. Walls had gone up in his eyes at their mere presence. Her brother's case had put him in that seat, but to him, she'd always be known as the teenage girl who'd tried to prove him wrong. Just playing pretend at being an FBI agent. "Now, I'm a reasonable man. I played along for a while. I gave her a few quotes to use in the book she was writing, but that wasn't good enough. She wanted more. She wanted access I wasn't willing to give. She hounded me for months. So I stopped taking her calls. Told her courthouse security wouldn't let her through the front door, and if she kept pushing on this, I'd see her charged with harassment. That day in the parking lot, she practically threw herself in front of my vehicle to try to change my mind."

"According to the barista working that day, Michelle Cross was acting as though she was waiting for someone," Boucher said. "She was waiting for you, wasn't she, Chief? How would she have known you'd be there?"

"She must've learned my routine." The chief's determination to brush off his involvement with a woman murdered in his town didn't sit as well as he'd hoped. "It's no secret around here I'm at Jack's every morning. She could've asked my secretary. Hell, she could've put a GPS device on my vehicle for all I know."

"You didn't tell me any of this when you came to see me in the hospital." The chief was right. This was Lebanon. A poor place to hide secrets, but no matter where she looked, lies and omissions flourished. How many more would they have to dig through before they got to the truth?

"Of course I didn't, Ms. Brody. Because it doesn't have anything to do with Michelle Cross's death, and from what I've been told, your sole duty here is to put together a file about this killer's habits and criminal tendencies to stop the son of a bitch from killing again. Not to investigate. A task, I'll point out, you've failed to accomplish, given we now have three bodies inside our city limits." A strange calm smoothed the lines from the chief's face, as though he'd just vindicated himself of any connection to Michelle Cross's death and put her in her rightful place. But Leigh wasn't here to exist as this town's scapegoat. She was here to find a murderer, to vindicate her family, and to prove her father's innocence. And not even the chief of police would stop her. "That last time I spoke to Michelle, when she accosted me in the parking lot, was the straw that broke the camel's back. I filed a restraining order as soon as I got back to my office."

The chief tugged a drawer free off to his left and dropped a yellow carbon copy folded in thirds on the desk between them. "Now you tell me, Ms. Brody, why would I bother filing this paperwork and scheduling a court date with the judge if I was in the middle of planning Michelle Cross's death?"

He was baiting her. Daring her to take that next step. But accusing the chief of police of murder without evidence would ensure not only her dismissal from this case but an official strike against her with the bureau. She could lose her job. Her work with the FBI was her life, her pride, her proof that she'd been born for more than wasting her life in this small town, getting married, and pumping out kids same as Hailey Pierce had. It'd been an escape and given her a purpose she'd needed when answers had run dry and hope had dissolved. She hadn't been able to get justice for her own family, but she could get it for others. Her answer pressurized the longer Chief Maynor let silence fill the conversation, but Boucher interceded.

"She was missing for three days, sir." The lieutenant didn't waste time looking over the document before handing it off to her. "Did you have any reason to believe anything had happened to Michelle when she suddenly stopped calling, stopped dropping in?"

Leigh reviewed the rough paper from top to bottom. The paperwork had been filed by the clerk's office March 7 at 2:24 p.m. The day Michelle Cross had gone missing. Seemed the chief had been telling the truth, but it wouldn't be enough. Chief Maynor had ignored testimony and evidence in her brother's homicide investigation. He'd supplied a primary suspect with case details and arrested the wrong man in response to pressure from the mayor and this town to put an end to the ugliness that'd blossomed right under their noses. Anything he said now had already been tainted by pride and ego.

"No. I did not." They weren't going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. The chief had already made up his mind. He would do whatever it took to keep his legacy and reputation intact. No matter the cost. "Figured she'd finally pulled her head out of her ass when she was served with a copy of the restraining order. Realized she was beating a dead horse by harassing me and this department. Something you might want to consider, Ms. Brody."

There it was again. That reminder she didn't belong here. Funny thing was, he'd helped make her into this thing he didn't like, and Leigh wanted to kick him in the side of his kneecap. Hard. "I'm confused, Chief. You weren't willing to give Michelle Cross access to the original investigation file for her research, but you did share it with Chris Ellingson, is that correct? He was the first suspect identified in my brother's murder. Based on that alone, I'd venture sharing confidential information fits right up your alley."

"Brody." Boucher's all-too-familiar warning wouldn't rein her in this time.

Contained anger flashed in Chief Maynor's gaze. "You are confused, Ms. Brody. And it seems to me the task force ought to be more focused on these recent murders rather than a closed case that doesn't follow the current victimology of the killer we're looking for." The chief stood, both Leigh and Boucher following. They were being kicked out. "That being said, I'm not entirely sure you're the right fit for this investigation, and I'll be making my position clear to Director Livingstone when I meet with her for an update on the case this afternoon. Boucher, a word."

"Yes, sir." Her partner fell into line like the good officer Maynor had trained him to be.

She'd hit the mark. The one the chief had been trying to hide all these years, but sooner or later, this town would see him for the imposter he was. It was unlikely Livingstone would remove her from the task force based off a biased has-been detective who'd screwed up her brother's case, but a tendril of apprehension carved out space in her gut. Worse, Chief Maynor saw it, too, and she'd given him exactly what he wanted: doubt in her cause. But she'd always been good at adapting. "One more question before we go, if you don't mind, Chief. I put in a request to the school board asking for a list of students over the past decade who've had behavioral issues, problems with authority, and might've been involved in violent incidents to be cross checked with Lebanon PD applications," she said. "Have you had a chance to go through it?"

"No, but when I do, I'll be sure to pass the information along to Boucher. Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to have a word with my lieutenant." Chief Maynor ushered her through the door, closing it behind her.

Leigh didn't miss the slight glance in her direction from the woman positioned at the desk outside the chief's office. Reading the woman's almost instinctual resentment, she drove her hand into her pocket to feel that familiar bite of plastic against her skin. She was trained from the time she'd been seventeen that the world was toxic and to make the best of a bad situation by developing the skills to survive on her own. No one had ever told her those skills could be toxic, too.

"Excuse me." She freed her credentials from her other pocket, practically startling the woman into a heart attack. "You must be the chief's administrator, in charge of his calendar and meeting schedule, phone logs. Could you tell me when Chief Maynor returned to the office from his visit to Jack's Coffee Garage on March 7th?"

"I… I don't think I'm allowed to give you that information." Lined, wide eyes darted toward the closed door, as though the men on the other side could hear her. The idea wasn't entirely out of left field. Given the chief's need for everyone around him to see him as the ultimate authority, Leigh didn't doubt he monitored his staff by any means necessary.

Leigh caught the name etched into the nameplate at the front of the desk. Viola Kocheck. She knew that name, but the face she associated with it had changed so completely despite the decade between them in age. Streaks of gray had taken over brunette hair she'd once coveted as a kid, but the eyes were as bright as she remembered. There was still an edge of anxiety about the teenager who'd babysat her and Troy the few times their parents had gone out. That anxiety had obviously built a resourcefulness to help keep the panic at bay. How else would she have survived her job as Chief Maynor's doormat? This was where her lack of interpersonal relationships would either sink this investigation or push her forward. "Viola Kocheck. I remember you."

"You do?" A slight upturn at the corner of Viola's mouth flashed before she mastered it and focused on an invisible spot on her desk. Her hand threaded through her hair, a nervous habit Leigh recognized from when she'd been a kid. A pattern of behavior. Not much had changed. "No one ever remembers me."

Leigh pocketed her credentials, and a warmth she didn't trust infused her. "You used to bring those apple caramel suckers for me and my brother anytime you babysat and made us promise not to tell my parents when you slipped us seconds. I still love those. They're hard to find in Clarksburg. I have to wait until Halloween and clean out every store as fast as I can."

A candid laugh burst free from Viola—louder than she expected—and Leigh had the impression it'd been a long time since the administrator had allowed herself to be heard. Viola shoved her chair back a few inches. "I have a couple in my desk, if you want one."

"Really? I'd love one." Leigh took the treat without hesitation, her mouth immediately watering. That first taste of bitter green apple mixed with the sweetness of the caramel brought back late nights reading Nancy Drew stories and hiding flashlights under her sheets when she and Troy were supposed to be asleep. Viola had never lost her temper with them when she'd found them building Legos or reenacting a favorite scene from X-Men past their bedtime. She'd usually joined them until Leigh couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. "That's the good stuff right there. Thank you. I needed that."

Not just the hit of sugar. The kindness. The comfort. This case had taken her entire world and turned it on its head. Viola Kocheck was a beam of good in the midst of all the bad. A lifeboat ready to free her from the sea of violence and uncertainty.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your family, Leigh. They… They didn't deserve all that. The Joel Brody I knew wouldn't ever hurt someone like that," Viola said. "I tried to tell police that when they interviewed me, but who was going to listen to me? I wasn't anybody important."

Leigh didn't know what to say to that. She'd been armored with the possibility of attacks from every direction, she hadn't seen the most volatile strike coming. The one that wasn't meant to tear her down at all. "Thank…" She cleared the emotion from her throat. "Thank you."

Viola lowered her voice, once again casting her attention to the chief's closed door. "Chief Maynor came back from his coffee run a little after 1:30 p.m."

"1:30 p.m.?" The timeline didn't add up. According to the chief, he'd come straight back from Jack's Coffee Garage and filed the restraining order, but the paperwork hadn't been recorded until almost 3:00 p.m. Leigh matched her voice to Viola's. "That seems a little long for a coffee run. What time did he leave?"

"Around 10:00 a.m." The administrator motioned her to round the desk. Hand on the computer mouse, Viola scrolled through the March 7th calendar. "I've gone through his schedule for that day a dozen times since I heard about what happened to that woman. Michelle Cross. The chief never varies from his routine. He is always back by 10:30 a.m. No earlier. No later."

Leigh straightened. "But you're saying that day…"

"He wasn't." From the look on the administrator's face, Viola didn't know what to make of that information. The guilt was there, too. She'd broken an unspoken rule and betrayed the man she worked for. There would be consequences. There could be charges filed. She might even lose her job. "The chief called me, told me to clear his schedule. I don't know where he was for those three hours. But, please, you can't tell anyone I gave you this information. I need this job. Please."

Leigh didn't want that for the one bright light that'd somehow managed to stay burning since she'd left Lebanon. She'd have to uncover that information some other way, keep Viola's name out of the investigation. "You have my word?—"

The door to the chief's office wrenched open.

Boucher didn't bother slowing down, hightailing it from the anteroom and into the hallway. "We have to go."

Those four words gutted her faster than working out on an empty stomach. Something had happened. Another body? They were running on fumes as it was. "What's the rush?"

"Scotland Yard finally granted our warrant request for Gresham Schmidt's financials and phone records." The lieutenant shoved through the double glass doors leading out into the parking lot. Colburn Park spread out across the street. The crime scene tape was still in place with a few officers peppered as security. "We got a hit."

Standard protocol. Nothing he'd said raised her suspicions. Leigh tried to keep up with him as they descended the stairs and rounded into the parking lot. There was no stopping him in this state, and her instincts said this was just a fraction of the intensity he tried to keep to himself on the job. "Where are we going?"

He nearly ripped the driver's side door straight off his patrol car. Boucher set one hand over the top of the vehicle. "The Fireside Inn."