Keller County Cops Book Seven: Code of Vengeance (3 page)

"I'd say no."

"Figures." She blew out a weary sigh. "I'll be glad when Jonah and Tripp get back. Have you heard from Cash? How's Tessa?"

"Doing okay. Just a broken arm. Could've been a helluva lot worse since that delivery truck T-boned her Mazda."

"Don't I know it. I've worked several liked that." Tiffany frowned.

Rick looked past her at the victim on the ground. He was a big guy. "What do we have?"

"A Caucasian male in his late-thirties with a jagged wound to the gut. He appears to have bled out quickly."

"Ah, Christ."

"According to his driver's license, his name's Dirk Woodward. Lives in the Briarcrest Apartments out near the mall."

"I know the place." Rick squinted at the strip club across the street. "Was he a patron?"

"My guess is yes, but I don't know for sure. Nobody's there right now. The place closed at one, and the employees apparently cleared out pretty quickly."

"Figures." He glanced at his watch. One forty-five. "Have you called CSU?"

"Yes, sir. They're on the way. Surprised you beat 'em here."

"I was still at the office doing paperwork." He walked over to the body and dropped to his haunches beside it. Blood had soaked Woodward's white knit shirt and pooled on the ground beneath him. The man's eyes were closed, and he had his right hand bunched into a fist. By the amount of blood, Rick figured Tiffany was right about him bleeding out fast.

A white CSU van roared up, and Rick came to his feet.

Tiffany met the techs beside the van and gave them a brief overview of the scene. "The sheriff's working this one, so you guys had better be on the ball."

"Howdy, Sheriff," Ben Hanson, one of the techs, called out. "Long time, no see."

"Evenin', Ben. Figured it was time for me to get out from behind my desk and do some actual police work."

"That wouldn't have anything to do with the election coming up, would it?"

"Maybe. We
are
pretty short-handed, though. Somebody has to pick up the slack." Rick bobbed his head toward the building as Ben walked up. "Make sure you search the area for the murder weapon. I'm guessing a knife, but don't really know for sure."

"Yes, sir."

"The strip club has security cameras on each corner of the building, and the one on the right looks like it's aimed this way." Tiffany jabbed her thumb toward the camera in question. "See? I'll find out who owns the club and run 'em down in the morning. I'll do my best to get my hands on that tape."

"I appreciate that, Deputy." Rick met her eyes. "You jonesing to make detective?"

"Not really, sir. I just want to do a good job." She ducked her head, spun on her heels, and marched off toward her cruiser.

"Wrong answer, Tiffany," he murmured to himself with a chuckle. "You
do
want to make detective, so you'll be Mitch's equal. Get a little more experience, and you just might."

"Excuse me, sir?" From his spot crouched beside the body, Ben lifted a brow. "Are you talking to me?"

"No. Sorry." Rick's face heated. He gritted his teeth and stepped closer to the tech.
Focus, damn it. Hasn't been that long since you've been in the field. Pay attention.

Ben glanced back down at the body. "I agree that the murder weapon was probably a knife, but the ME's report should tell us for sure. Where's the coroner? He usually beats us here."

"I don't know, but you can bet I'll find out." Rick pulled out his cell and called dispatch.

The operator picked up right away. "Mr. Pendergast is on his way, Sheriff," she assured him. "He was still at work finalizing the flowers for the Wicker funeral tomorrow when I called."

"All right, May. Thanks." Rick ended the call and looked at Ben. "He's on his way. Hope the crime lab's worked through some of their backlog so they can get to this one pretty quick."

"I wouldn't hold your breath." Ben came to his feet with a wry smile on his face. "You know how things work up in Jackson."

"Unfortunately, I do." He opened his mouth to comment further, but snapped it shut when Ralph Pendergast roared up the street in the coroner's van. Behind him was a small white Chevy with the letters
WHBZ
and the TV station's colorful logo emblazoned on one of the side panels. Rick groaned. "I also know how the press works."

"Shit." Ben glanced down at the other tech, who was on his knees beside the body collecting samples of the blood pooled beneath it. "Make it fast, Tom. We've got an audience."

"Screw 'em. I'm working as fast as I can." Irritation creased Tom's forehead.

"Hey, Tiffany." Rick hustled over to the scowling deputy, who stood beside her cruiser's open trunk. "We need to get a perimeter up. Those people--"

"Will be all up in our business if we don't." She lost the frown as she completed his sentence and held up a roll of crime scene tape. "No worries, Sheriff. I'm on it."

"Good. Thanks." With appreciative bob of his head, he left so she could get to work and stalked over to the curb to head off the reporter.

He'd expected a newbie to exit the car, given the time of day, but Mindy Ravens, the tall, statuesque brunette who manned the anchor desk every night at six on WHBZ, climbed out instead. To top it off, Mindy wasn't alone. A cameraman got out of the passenger seat, opened the back door, and dragged out his equipment.

"Damn it," Rick muttered to himself. He longed to rage at the man, but plastered a smile on his face for the reporter's benefit and held out his hand. "Ms. Ravens, I'm surprised to see you out here tonight."

"Well, hello, Sheriff Blaylock." She shook his hand, disdain on her face, and eyed him with curiosity. "I'm surprised to see you, as well. Hoping for a moment in the spotlight as Keller County's premier crime fighter?"

"Not exactly." He stepped in front of her before she could slink any closer to the body. "This is a crime scene. I need you to move to the other side of the street."

"Bob," Mindy called out, her eyes never leaving Rick's as she got her cameraman's attention. "Hurry and get some footage of the deceased before the sheriff--"

"Please move back, ma'am." Tiffany elbowed her way past Mindy with a strand of crime scene tape, raising it until it almost brushed the reporter's nose before lowering it and looping it around a light pole about ten feet away. She continued on to a tree at the back of the small lot.

Obviously affronted, Mindy turned to the cameraman. "Hurry and get that footage.
Now."

"Nope." Rick stepped in front of the man to block his access to the scene. "You can get all the footage you need from across the street."

"Actually, we can't. Right here would be--"

"Never mind, Bob." Mindy stepped up to the line of crime scene tape, whirled around, and raised her microphone to her mouth. "Get this instead."

"All right." Bob took a few steps back and aimed the camera at her smiling face.

"Ms. Ravens, I don't think--" Rick scowled, but she ignored him.

"I'm Mindy Ravens of WHBZ Live One News," she said facing the camera, "and we're live at a crime scene near the Kitty Kat Klub, an adult venue on the outskirts of Hunter's Bayou, where a murder allegedly took place less than one full hour ago."

"Ms. Ravens, I need you to do your report across the street." Rick clenched his teeth. "Either move right now, or I will arrest you."

"I'm here with Keller County Sheriff Rick Blaylock, who's running for re-election on an anti-crime platform." Mindy turned and pinned Rick with a coy look. "Sheriff, what can you tell us about tonight's alleged murder?"

"No comment," he snapped, anger blazing through his body. "This is an active crime scene, ma'am. I need you and your cameraman to move across the street so we can finish processing evidence."

"So you do have evidence in this case?"

"No. Comment," he bit out again, emphasizing each word for highest impact. His first instinct was to throttle the bitch and physically tow her across the damned street, but that would cause a scene and wind up on the news for sure. So he gave her his best blank expression and pointed at the other curb. "Please do as I ask, Ms. Ravens, so we can do our jobs."

"Do you have any suspects in this case yet, Sheriff? Or are you just grasping at straws?"

"All right, that's it." Rick whirled on her.

Fighting the urge to tear Ms. Ravens limb from limb, Rick growled a curse he hoped she couldn't hear and summoned Tiffany to his side with a jerk of his hand.

Her hand still wrapped around the roll of tape, the deputy hurried over. "Yes, sir?"

"Deputy Ransom, please place Ms. Ravens under arrest." He pulled a pair of handcuffs off his gun belt. "I'll take care of her friend."

"No, wait! That won't be necessary," Mindy cried, backing down from her demand. Her throat jerked as she swallowed. She waved at the cameraman, stepped off the curb, and pointed across the street. "We'll be right over there if you decide to give me a statement."

"Not going to happen." He folded his arms and stood his ground until the reporter and her lackey ambled across the narrow street.

Rick released a heartfelt sigh and dropped his arms. Thank God he hadn't had to arrest them, because that would have set really set tongues wagging and gotten his opponent riled up.

Tiffany turned toward him and grinned. "You handled that pretty well."

"I didn't have a choice. If I'd gone off on her, I'd be the top story on the six a.m. news."

"Well, you definitely made the right choice. A scene with that hussy wouldn't be good for your campaign. Just the front page spread alone--"

"Exactly," he snapped, cutting her off. He edged around to face the body. "Now..."

Ralph Pendergast glanced at the press across the street, sent Rick a relieved smile, and walked over to him. "Hi, Sheriff. Didn't want to interrupt, but wanted to let you know I believe the victim died from exsanguination. We'll have his body out of here soon."

"You'll take it straight to Jackson?"

"Of course. Emmitt will drive the van and get it up there as quickly as possible. I'd do it, but I have the Wicker funeral in the morning and need to be at the shop by dawn."

"I understand." He did, but he sure as hell didn't like the coroner sending the body to the state crime lab via a third party.

Not a damned thing he could do about it, however. Mississippi elected its coroners and didn't require them to have any medical training. Pendergast was a florist. His job was to give investigators the approximate cause of death and then haul the body to Jackson for autopsy. The State Medical Examiner, or one of his staff, would do the cutting, along with any necessary tests, including toxicology, once it arrived, and return the true cause of death.

The problem was the time factor. The crime lab had spent years with no in-house ME, so they'd shipped bodies out of state for autopsy until the current ME signed on just over a year ago. They still had a huge backlog. No telling how far back in the queue this guy would be.

"Sorry, Sheriff." Pendergast sighed. "Emmitt's a good man. He'll get the body there."

"Just as long as we don't have another problem like we did a few months ago."

"You're talking about the wreck." The coroner cringed. "It wasn't my fault."

"You sent someone else that night, too. I hope this time the body's not burned to a crisp when it gets to the lab."

"Me, too." Pendergast shuddered. "What a nightmare."

"Tell Emmitt I said to obey the speed limit."

"Yes, sir." He nodded. "I'll text you the minute I confirm the crime lab has the body."

"Yeah, you do that." The whole situation stuck in Rick's craw. He bit back a sharp retort and turned away, eager to get back to work.

He hadn't stayed at a crime scene all night in quite a while, but for the next three hours he supervised the techs as they collected evidence, making sure they picked up even the tiniest pebbles and grains of sand. If he got lucky, they might find a hair or two or even a piece of dandruff from whoever had killed Woodward. Would take a miracle for the guy to be in the system, and yet Rick would take whatever he could get. The real luck would come if the surveillance cameras on the front of the Kitty Kat Klub had recorded the murder.

Mindy Ravens and her minion hung around for about an hour, but eventually either lost interest or got too tired to keep up their position across the street. He suppressed the urge to cheer when they finally packed up and left.

Darkness still reigned at five-thirty when he got back to the station. Weary beyond words, he went in search of some hot brew and found Mitch lurking next to the coffeemaker, his gaze riveted on the brown sludge dripping into the pot.

"Rough night?" Rick asked.

Mitch jerked his head up. "Sheriff? Whoa. Didn't expect you to be here this early."

"Yeah, well... I covered for you last night at a scene so you could go after Nixon. I'll fill you in later. Any luck finding the guy?"

"Yep. Finally nabbed him over in Long Beach in his mom's backyard. Bastard was hiding in a kid's jungle gym. Probably used to play in it when he was a kid."

"Did he tell you why he ran?"

"He's scared." Mitch shrugged. "Claims Williams threatened to kill him if he talked, and now he's about to testify against the guy. Not a good situation. To top it off, he hates speaking in front of people. Probably figures he'll wet his pants once he gets on the stand."

"I don't give a damn if he wets every thread he has on. We need his testimony."

"True. I told him that." The coffee pot finally stopped gurgling. Mitch picked up a Styrofoam cup and filled it with the dark liquid. "Also told him we can't protect him if he doesn't testify and Williams catches him on the street... but that if he does testify, Williams won't be able to get to him because he'll be locked up."

"And that did the trick?" Rick asked, accepting the cup of coffee Mitch held out.

The detective grinned and poured himself a brimming cup. "Sure did. He doesn't want to get his ass kicked to hell and back."

"Where is he right now?"

"In a holding cell. He begged me to let him stay here for the night so Williams can't find him before court tomorrow, and I obliged him."