If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [51]
All Kyle wanted to do now was go home to Laurie and the kids and forget the senseless accident. Play some games, maybe barbeque some ribs, and listen to his three boys laugh.
“Hello, Margo,” he said to the secretary/clerk/office manager. He didn’t remember Margo’s official title, but the Sheriff’s Department would fall apart without her at the helm.
“Mrs. Fletcher called about the duplex on the corner of Elm and Sycamore. Three visitors between midnight and four a.m.”
“Maybe Mrs. Fletcher should take an extra sleeping pill,” Kyle muttered. The woman slept so lightly that she could hear a fly snore.
“The courthouse called to let you know that Jeremy Fisher cut a deal on the assault charges and you won’t be needed in court on Monday.”
“My day just got better.”
Margo looked at him blandly and said, “And a private investigator stopped by regarding a case he said Deputy Weddle is working.”
Kyle took the business card and message from Margo. Sean Rogan, Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid Investigative Services, Eastern Office. Sounded impressive, but P.I.s liked to bullshit. When he’d been a cop in Philly, he’d dealt with enough low-life P.I.s that he didn’t hold out hope that Rogan was any different.
He expected a message from Margo, but Rogan had written the note himself.
Detective—
I’m inquiring about the status of the investigation into the missing body of the female victim found in the Kelley Mine on Travers Peak outside Spruce Lake, as well as the statement myself and Ms. Lucy Kincaid gave to Deputy Weddle regarding evidence visually identified in the mine this morning, specifically hair strands and insects first observed on the dead woman before she disappeared.
I’ve been retained by Tim Hendrickson, who owns the property adjacent to the mine and has been the subject of escalating acts of sabotage aimed at preventing him and his brother from opening a family resort, which was approved by the county. I am interested in the status of this investigation as it may be related to my own. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.
—Sean Rogan
“I’m lost,” Kyle said.
“According to Deputy Weddle’s report, he closed the case yesterday after Fire and Rescue determined it was a crank call.”
“Crank call?”
“No body was found in the mine.”
Kyle was royally confused. “Track down Tyler. I want to talk to him before I call this P.I. back.”
“Yes, Detective.” She picked up her phone.
Kyle went to his small office and pulled up the report on the computer. A call came in from Hendrickson on Wednesday about an arson fire and the corpse in the mine. Two different locations. The arson investigation was active and assigned to the county fire marshal’s office. Standard. The other call was a prank?
Something didn’t jibe. He read Weddle’s notes.
… No body was found in the mine at the location Ms. Kincaid identified. They searched the immediate area, but no sign of any body, or evidence of violence, was seen. The area where Ms. Kincaid claimed to have seen the body is heavily shadowed, and an overactive imagination could easily have “seen” a dead person. When questioned, Ms. Kincaid admitted she didn’t approach the “body” but ran back to the mine shaft. This officer doesn’t believe the false report had been malicious, but simply a scared young woman who saw “something” in the dark.
Weddle had closed the case. So what evidence was Rogan talking about?
“Margo?” Kyle called out into the main room. “Did Weddle log in any evidence today?”
“No, Detective.”
“Have you reached him?”
“He’s off duty. I left a message.”
Kyle glanced at the clock. 3:10. Typical of Weddle and a few others who didn’t raise a finger after they clocked out. When their budget was slashed and overtime had to be preapproved, half the deputies protested by clocking in and out right on time. Most went back to the old way, but a few, like Weddle, didn’t.
Kyle didn’t have a college degree, but he’d been a cop for over twenty years. A good cop. He smelled something rotten, and feared it was his own deputy. Kyle almost called the