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“The sheriff didn’t fight back?”
For a moment, frustration flared in John-Henry’s face. He spread his hands. “We don’t know. He didn’t have his service weapon with him.”
“What kind of rinky-dink operation is this?” North asked. “Aren’t there doors that only open on buzzers, that kind of thing?”
“It’s a county jail in rural Missouri,” Emery said, his attention still fixed on the file. “It might as well be a popsicle stand.”
“He had the sheriff’s keys,” John-Henry said. “It’s not clear—not yet, anyway—what other security measures had been compromised like the cameras. We’re going to have people going over this place with a fine-toothed comb. God, it’s going to be a nightmare.”
Emery looked up from the file to study his husband. Then he moved behind the desk to lay a hand on John-Henry’s shoulder. He squeezed once, and John-Henry nodded and rubbed his forehead.
“Do we know anything about what happened with Ambyr?” Shaw asked. “Had she said anything about harming herself? Does anyone know what kind of condition she was in today?”
This time, North didn’t have to look; he could hear it in Shaw’s voice, the mind-fuck, like oil slicking clean water. “Shaw, maybe you and Emery want to go over that file together? You can see if he missed anything.”
“I certainly didn’t miss—” Emery began, but maybe, against all odds, even Emery Hazard could occasionally catch a hint because he glanced at Shaw and shut his mouth. “Yes. There is, I suppose, always a possibility. If you’d like to help me—”
Shaw shook his head, still not looking at North.
“If she’d talked about self-harm,” John-Henry said, “she’d have been on suicide watch. They have female deputies on staff for the female offenders, but none of them heard or saw anything unusual.”
“Sure,” North said. “Why would they?”
“She must have been scared,” Shaw said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And humiliated, and alone.”
“Shaw, I need you to hold it together for me.”
Shaw nodded, eyes hooded and looking off into his own private nightmares.
John-Henry glanced at North, but North shook his head. “Did Welch take the sheriff’s car?”
“Yeah,” John-Henry said. “Private vehicle because the sheriff’s department cruiser is in the shop.”
“Which means no lo-jacking,” Emery said. “Which is consistent with everything else in this case being fucking perfect.”
“We’re working on it; our guess is that Welch only took it to get clear of Wahredua. He’ll ditch it as soon as he can if he’s smart.” John-Henry shook himself as though remembering something and plucked a sheet of paper from his desk. “Ezell, so you know what he looks like.”
The picture showed a moon-faced white man with a perpetual flush. His blond hair was slicked back and thinning so that you could see the shape of his skull. He wore the khaki uniform of a sheriff’s deputy.
“Another of Wahredua’s finest,” North said. He held the photo out for Shaw, but Shaw didn’t seem to see it; after a few seconds, North passed it to Emery.
“He doesn’t have any official complaints filed against him,” John-Henry said, “and nobody seems to have any unofficial ones either. From what I could gather, nobody seemed to suspect he was dirty. Always showed up, did his job, went home.”
North nodded.
“Are you comfortable if we do the contract tomorrow?” John-Henry asked. “I can ask one of our administrative assistants to draw up a version of the one we use when we contract Emery; I’m already an hour behind where I should be tonight, and there’s a million more things to do.”
Waving away the question, North settled himself in the chair. “Why do you want to hire us?”
“Fantastic question,” Emery murmured.
“Because I need manpower,” John-Henry said. “And I need results. And most importantly, I need someone I can trust. You’re our friends, and I know I’m asking a lot, but I think you know we’re neck deep in this already. Someone arranged these murders. The same someone who went after Jem and Tean. The same person who attacked Theo and Auggie in their home. This isn’t over.”
“They’re barely getting started,” Emery said, voice so low he might have been speaking to himself.
North gave him a long look.
“John’s not wrong,” Emery said. “I’d also add that your methods are…unconventional, which in this situation may prove to be an asset.”
