Crush - Alan Jacobson [34]
Brix rose from his seat. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m part of a task force investigating the murder of a young woman. And you, a Lieutenant and the senior cop heading the investigation, decided to willfully hide facts from the rest of us.”
“I didn’t hide anything,” Brix said. “It’s just not relevant.”
“Redd,” Dixon said softly, “that’s for all of us to decide.”
“Scott knows. Stan knows. It’s not a secret.”
“Look,” Dixon said, “as soon as we discovered the vic was Victoria Cameron, you should’ve disclosed your ownership of the rival winery to everyone on the task force.”
“And you should recuse yourself from the investigation,” Vail said.
“Bull-shit,” he sang, drawing out the word.
Vail rested her hands on her hips. “How could you stay on, given what—”
“It’s not our call,” Dixon said. “If he wants to stay on the investigation, it’s not our decision.”
Vail had to concede that point. She had no authority here, other than to help and advise. But Dixon, as lead investigator, could have pressed the issue. Dixon had apparently decided not to pursue it—so Vail let it drop. “Fine,” she said. “Whatever. Any other secrets half the task force knows and the other half doesn’t?”
Brix ground his molars, perhaps waiting for his anger to fade. He turned to Vail with a heavy stare. “I’ve never had my integrity questioned. Never. And I’m not about to allow a Fibbie to dictate to me, or anyone else—”
“That’s enough.”
They all turned to the door, where Sheriff Stan Owens was standing.
“I don’t want to hear any more of that derogatory bullshit. I know the FBI doesn’t always get along with cops, and vice versa. But I respect both state and federal law enforcement. We’re all in it together. Learn to play on the same field.” He surveyed their faces. “Now, is there something you want to share with me?”
Vail looked at Brix. She wanted to disclose Brix’s conflict of interest.
But she didn’t want to be seen in the wrong light, particularly after Owens’s admonishment. Besides, this was Dixon’s fight, if she chose to take it on.
Dixon said nothing. Brix said nothing.
Owens nodded slowly. “Fine.” He disappeared out the door.
“Anything else worth reporting?” Brix asked.
Vail dropped the guest and employee list printouts on the table. “We’ll fill you in at four,” she said. “That way everyone knows what’s going on. For a change.” She walked out of the room, leaving Dixon behind.
SEVENTEEN
John Wayne Mayfield pulled into the Napa County Sheriff’s Department parking lot and backed into a spot opposite the morgue’s access gate. A moment later, the two foxes got out of their Ford and walked toward the building’s entrance.
The redhead was moving faster. Urgent. Angry.
Interesting. She’d looked angry when they left Silver Ridge. What had gotten under her skin so deeply that it was still bothering her? He’d have to find out, take a look around tonight, when no one was on duty.
He pulled the pad from his breast pocket and opened it to the next page. Clicked his pen and began making notes. He needed to find out who they were, but he was almost sure they were working on the Victoria Cameron murder. Which meant they were looking for him.
“Right here,” he said under his breath. “Better come get me before I come get you-ou,” he sang.
VAIL LEFT THE SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT and stood outside, waiting for Dixon. A few minutes later, Dixon walked through the front doors carrying a small brown bag. She tossed it to Vail, then got in the car.
“Late lunch,” Dixon said. “There’s turkey and veggie.”
Vail opened the bag, peered in. “Either’s fine.”
“I’ll take turkey. I need the protein for my workouts.” She took the sandwich from Vail and put the Ford in gear. Peeled back the wrapping, took a bite.
Their phones rang simultaneously. Vail pulled her BlackBerry—a text message from Ray Lugo:
Another vic. Meet me.
It was followed by the address.
“You know where that is?” Vail asked.
Dixon nodded, then depressed the gas pedal, sandwich in one hand and steering