Fulfilling Promises (Red Starr, Book Five) (11 page)

“I’ll get back to you,” Gunny said, the concern in his voice evident. “Be careful. That’s two men murdered from the same small town. Whoever it is seems to be willing to drop civilians rather freely. I don’t like what that says about who is involved there on the ground.”

“Neither do I,” Trigger muttered, looking at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved in two days and his hair was pretty much standing on end. He better clean himself up if he were going to speak to the state police today. “I’ll have my cell phone on me, but I can’t guarantee a signal here in the backwoods. It’s spotty out this way, so just leave a message or call me at this number. This line isn’t secure though. Multiple people will have access to the message service and they use wireless handsets.”

Trigger indicated the phone number to the tavern, knowing the line was connected to the answering machine downstairs in the office. It was a landline with multiple connections throughout the building that anyone could listen in on. He’d have to remember to return this particular handset to the kitchen charger.

“I’ll be in touch one way or another. I’ll also drop a SAT phone in the mail. You might need secure comms if we find anything.”

Gunny disconnected the line and Trigger set the receiver on the side of the sink. It wouldn’t be long before Devyn and Diesel returned, so he drew his shirt over his head. He’d wash up and get ready for a grueling day. The only way to make things right was to find out who killed Joey and give him justice. Devyn deserved that, and only then would they be able to vanquish that elephant each of them had been dancing around.

‡

P
erspiration coated Devyn’s
palms as she and Trigger walked across the baking blacktop of the parking lot. They’d driven the thirty minutes to Corinth up Rural Route 655 to Highway 354, stopping briefly at the garage to let the locksmith in to replace the lockset on the main entrance along with replacing the tumblers on all the other doors. They would have to return along the same route to reset the alarm system, change the code, and make up a new key phrase.

All of this had become necessary when they realized that Joey’s keys hadn’t been in the manila envelope. So did that mean Joey’s truck had been seized as evidence and the Staties just forgot to mention that fact to anyone? Would the state police even answer her questions if she were considered the prime suspect?

“Let me do the talking,” Trigger urged, resting a hand on Devyn’s lower back. She’d changed clothes when she realized this would be their second stop. She had donned a white pair of jeans that resembled dress pants and a pink cotton shirt that had a white lace collar. She was dressed casual, and yet she appeared somewhat professional. She wasn’t usually one to care about looks, but even she was aware of the prejudice judgments cast on those suspected of committing murder. “And don’t get your feathers ruffled. They might be willing to open up to a hired investigator rather than a suspect. It has nothing to do with you being a woman and everything to do with the fact that you were already brought in for questioning in this case.”

Devyn gave Trigger a sideways look, not liking how he so easily extinguished her ire over such a statement. Yes, she considered herself his intellectual equal. She had a tendency to have an arrogant attitude at times, but she was a successful, self-established businesswoman. She deserved the same respect as any man, but in this case, Trigger was right. He should do the talking. She was liable to say some things that would only attract the hostile attentions of the investigating officer and land her ass in jail for real this time for sucker punching a police official.

“Were you able to get the name of a decent lawyer?” Devyn asked, changing her mind about going with a state defender. Showing up here voluntarily was making her nauseous. What if they didn’t allow her to leave? “I’ve been thinking maybe you were right about having counsel if they want to talk to me again.”

“I’d make a comment about how I should write your admission about my being right on the calendar, but that might actually have a negative effect on your willingness to seek counsel.”

“Smart thinking, jackass.” Devyn clutched the small purse in front of her as Trigger opened the tinted glass door, his attempt at relieving her stress not working in the least. The cool air conditioning washed over her and she couldn’t prevent goose bumps from covering her arms. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to be inside with you while we’re looking for answers?”

“It shows you’re not afraid and that you want to do everything you can to find out who hurt Joey. They need to reconsider that you might not be the perp they’re looking for in this matter.”

Hurt? Killed. In cold blood. Devyn hadn’t told Trigger or Isaac about the horribly graphic photograph one of the detectives had laid on the table. She had done her best to block the memory of it, not wanting to remember Joey that way, but to no avail. It wasn’t easy not to see him that way now and she doubted she would ever succeed in pushing that scene out of her mind’s eye.

“Hello, ma’am,” Trigger greeted the woman through the large window in the lobby. It was most likely made of bulletproof glass considering the window was actually about three-quarters of an inch thick. Devyn wasn’t sure why that crossed her mind, but it was better than concentrating on the lurching motions her stomach had decided to do for added excitement. The rather odd smell in the foyer wasn’t helping either. “I’m looking for the lead detective on Joey Wilde’s case.”

“That would be Detective Chaisson, sir,” the woman replied before nodding her head in the direction of a line of chairs against the far wall. “Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here. Your name, please?”

“John Dixon.”

Devyn noted that Trigger and the receptionist had purposefully left her out of the conversation. She walked to the chairs, noticing they were a dull grey in color that was slightly darker than the painted walls. The drab hues of the lobby could very well be a harbinger of her upcoming potential jail term. She wondered if the decorators had done that on purpose to intimidate potential suspects. She also found it strange that no one else was in the foyer except one older gentleman filling out paperwork and a fingerprint card with his information.

Trigger pulled out his phone and looked at the display. She cleared her throat and tried to listen in as he played a message. Cell service here in Corinth was almost spotless, but there was no need for her to use her phone. The only person she usually called was Joey and she couldn’t do that anymore, now could she?

Anger started to form in the pit of her queasy stomach, somewhat steadying her nerves. She shouldn’t have to feel like this when seeking answers for her brother’s murder. Detective Chaisson? Had she heard that name before? Devyn had been in such shock over finding out Joey had died that the detective’s name who had been questioning her hadn’t even registered. She was beginning to see why innocent people ended up being blamed for something they didn’t do—emotionally torn and not really listening to what was being said.

“That was Starr,” Trigger said, lowering his phone and then putting it back in the front pocket of his jeans. He reached over and took a hold of her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “She made some calls and has a lawyer by the name of James Eiland lined up as your attorney. From what she said, he’s already spoken to Detective Chaisson and advised him of his representation on your behalf.”

“Can a lawyer do that without having talked to me first?” Devyn asked with a frown. She had conflicting emotions over someone she’d never met taking control of the situation. “What if I don’t like him? What if he thinks I’m guilty?”

“You don’t need to like him. This man is no doubt a stone-cold professional.” Trigger had shaved this morning, so the muscle in his jawline moved gracefully when he spoke. He appeared so confident that this would turn out okay. “You just need to let him do his job. As for Eiland taking over your case without even speaking with you? Trust me, Starr has a way of getting things done. I imagine Chaisson’s approach might take on some subtleties it lacked before.”

There was a loud click that resounded through the entrance. Detective Chaisson appeared in a grey suit, the color close in shade to the paint on the wall. His white shirt was crisp and freshly pressed, but his tie was askew as if he’d been moving it aside every time it got in his way during a recent conversation. He had rimless glasses that made it appear he wasn’t wearing any, but she now recalled his habit of pushing them up the bridge of his nose when he talked. He did so now as he zeroed in on her presence. From the narrowing of his eyes, it seemed as if she were still his number one suspect.

“Ms. Wilde, I didn’t expect to see you this morning.” Detective Chaisson gave a cursory glance over to Trigger. “Mr. Dixon. You must be the owner of Mac’s Auto Repair.”

Chaisson held out an arm and waited for Trigger to accept his offer. The two shook hands before the detective escorted them through the heavy security door.

“That would be my place of business,” Trigger acknowledged, purposefully resting a hand on Devyn’s lower back. Every move he was making was very calculated. She had to wonder why, but she went along with it for the time being. “I have some questions regarding Joey’s murder, along with the fact that I wasn’t properly notified of a search being conducted on my property. I would like to see a copy of the warrant.”

Detective Chaisson led them down a narrow hallway with several offices on either side before they entered a somewhat larger room with four desks, eight chairs, and numerous filing cabinets. This wasn’t where they’d brought her in for initial questioning, but the more relaxed atmosphere didn’t make her feel any better.

It wasn’t as busy here as Devyn would have thought, although phones were ringing in the distance with the low murmurs of conversations being held. Another detective walked in behind them without a glance, maneuvering past them and walking to his desk in the far right-hand corner of the room. He took a seat and picked up his phone, obviously working a case of his own.

“I’m sorry?” Detective Chaisson asked as he pulled another chair up to the one already beside his desk so that the two of them could sit side by side while talking. His blue eyes once again narrowed as he focused on Trigger. “I spoke to you myself. I explained we had a warrant to search the grounds of Joey’s employment.”

“What number did you call?” Trigger asked, waiting until Devyn was seated before he did the same. He’d purposefully left his handgun in the glove box of his vehicle, but he didn’t look any less intimidating. Detective Chaisson was now more focused on him than her, giving her time to breathe. “Because you certainly didn’t speak with me or my lawyer.”

“You called the station Monday evening, identifying yourself as the owner of the garage. I explained the situation, including that we couldn’t locate Joey Wilde’s keys or vehicle.” Detective Chaisson used his index finger to push up his glasses before reaching for a file on his desk. “I notified you of the warrant we were obtaining from the judge and that it gave us the right to search your place of business.”

“I understand you followed the law in obtaining the warrant—however you never spoke directly with me, Detective.” Trigger rested an arm behind Devyn, firmly displaying his support for her. She had to admit it felt nice for someone to have her back when she’d been on her own here since Monday evening. “I didn’t hear about Joey’s murder until yesterday when I arrived in town on business.”

“I’m not sure what to say, but you do realize that the warrant was signed by a judge and was executed properly.” Detective Chaisson leaned back in his chair as if he were reevaluating the situation and trying to gauge where Trigger was going with this visit. The desk phone to the right of them rang a couple of times before most likely going to voicemail. “Why would someone call and identify themselves as you?”

“That’s a damned good question, especially since it appears the person gave you the security code to the garage.” Trigger made it sound as if that was an inquiry for Detective Chaisson to follow up on without actually telling the man to do his job. “The security company stated you didn’t call, so I’m assuming the man you spoke with did in fact provide you with the code?”

“Yes, he did, although we didn’t have the keys to gain entrance. We’ll cover the cost of damage to the door.” Detective Chaisson picked up a pen and jotted something down on a notepad. He appeared wary, as if Trigger wasn’t telling him the truth. “I’ll have the call looked into. We’ll see where it originated from and then backtrack from there as to whom it might have been. When was the last time you spoke with Mr. Wilde?”

Devyn tensed slightly, recognizing that Detective Chaisson was using this visit to his advantage. He would ask Trigger questions to suit his own purpose or to gain more insight into her relationship with Joey. She parted her lips to object, but Trigger rested his fingers on her shoulder and stopped her.

“I was out of the country for a couple of months on official business, but I did try to reach Joey last week, as I’m sure you know from his phone records. I’m also guessing you’ve spoken with all of his friends, his on-and-off again girlfriend, as well as some of his customers.” Trigger certainly didn’t hold his cards close to his vest. It was making Devyn nervous. “Did you discover any verifiable information that would lead you toward whomever might have done this?”