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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?”
