O’Neill had never had a proper burial or been given a final farewell.
“Starr is likely to think I’ve got too much on my plate if she finds out something about the old team,” Trigger warned as he entered Devyn’s bedroom. Her bed hadn’t been made and the rumpled covers showed exactly how restless her sleep had been. “I want to know, Gunny.”
“I’ll make sure you’re given updates…if there are any to give. In the meantime, give me the names you want me to look into and I’ll get ops started on a situational assessment.”
Trigger set his go-bag by the sink, the bathroom somewhat small because the upstairs of the tavern hadn’t necessarily been meant to be an apartment when it was originally built. It had been constructed as an open floor plan for storage, but Devyn never did like living in the trailer she and Joey had been raised in. This suited her personality much better anyway. He rattled off the names of those on the work orders, specifically focusing on Ken Feragon and any connections he might have to local players. It felt good to finally be able to get something accomplished.
“I’ll get back to you,” Gunny said, the concern in his voice evident. “Be careful. That’s two men murdered from the same small town. Whoever it is seems to be willing to drop civilians rather freely. I don’t like what that says about who is involved there on the ground.”
“Neither do I,” Trigger muttered, looking at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved in two days and his hair was pretty much standing on end. He better clean himself up if he were going to speak to the state police today. “I’ll have my cell phone on me, but I can’t guarantee a signal here in the backwoods. It’s spotty out this way, so just leave a message or call me at this number. This line isn’t secure though. Multiple people will have access to the message service and they use wireless handsets.”
Trigger indicated the phone number to the tavern, knowing the line was connected to the answering machine downstairs in the office. It was a landline with multiple connections throughout the building that anyone could listen in on. He’d have to remember to return this particular handset to the kitchen charger.
“I’ll be in touch one way or another. I’ll also drop a SAT phone in the mail. You might need secure comms if we find anything.”
Gunny disconnected the line and Trigger set the receiver on the side of the sink. It wouldn’t be long before Devyn and Diesel returned, so he drew his shirt over his head. He’d wash up and get ready for a grueling day. The only way to make things right was to find out who killed Joey and give him justice. Devyn deserved that, and only then would they be able to vanquish that elephant each of them had been dancing around.
Chapter Nine
‡
P erspiration coated Devyn’s palms as she and Trigger walked across the baking blacktop of the parking lot. They’d driven the thirty minutes to Corinth up Rural Route 655 to Highway 354, stopping briefly at the garage to let the locksmith in to replace the lockset on the main entrance along with replacing the tumblers on all the other doors. They would have to return along the same route to reset the alarm system, change the code, and make up a new key phrase.
All of this had become necessary when they realized that Joey’s keys hadn’t been in the manila envelope. So did that mean Joey’s truck had been seized as evidence and the Staties just forgot to mention that fact to anyone? Would the state police even answer her questions if she were considered the prime suspect?
“Let me do the talking,” Trigger urged, resting a hand on Devyn’s lower back. She’d changed clothes when she realized this would be their second stop. She had donned a white pair of jeans that resembled dress pants and a pink cotton shirt that had a white lace collar. She was dressed casual, and yet she appeared somewhat professional. She wasn’t usually one to
“Starr is likely to think I’ve got too much on my plate if she finds out something about the old team,” Trigger warned as he entered Devyn’s bedroom. Her bed hadn’t been made and the rumpled covers showed exactly how restless her sleep had been. “I want to know, Gunny.”
“I’ll make sure you’re given updates…if there are any to give. In the meantime, give me the names you want me to look into and I’ll get ops started on a situational assessment.”
Trigger set his go-bag by the sink, the bathroom somewhat small because the upstairs of the tavern hadn’t necessarily been meant to be an apartment when it was originally built. It had been constructed as an open floor plan for storage, but Devyn never did like living in the trailer she and Joey had been raised in. This suited her personality much better anyway. He rattled off the names of those on the work orders, specifically focusing on Ken Feragon and any connections he might have to local players. It felt good to finally be able to get something accomplished.
“I’ll get back to you,” Gunny said, the concern in his voice evident. “Be careful. That’s two men murdered from the same small town. Whoever it is seems to be willing to drop civilians rather freely. I don’t like what that says about who is involved there on the ground.”
“Neither do I,” Trigger muttered, looking at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved in two days and his hair was pretty much standing on end. He better clean himself up if he were going to speak to the state police today. “I’ll have my cell phone on me, but I can’t guarantee a signal here in the backwoods. It’s spotty out this way, so just leave a message or call me at this number. This line isn’t secure though. Multiple people will have access to the message service and they use wireless handsets.”
Trigger indicated the phone number to the tavern, knowing the line was connected to the answering machine downstairs in the office. It was a landline with multiple connections throughout the building that anyone could listen in on. He’d have to remember to return this particular handset to the kitchen charger.
“I’ll be in touch one way or another. I’ll also drop a SAT phone in the mail. You might need secure comms if we find anything.”
Gunny disconnected the line and Trigger set the receiver on the side of the sink. It wouldn’t be long before Devyn and Diesel returned, so he drew his shirt over his head. He’d wash up and get ready for a grueling day. The only way to make things right was to find out who killed Joey and give him justice. Devyn deserved that, and only then would they be able to vanquish that elephant each of them had been dancing around.
Chapter Nine
‡
P erspiration coated Devyn’s palms as she and Trigger walked across the baking blacktop of the parking lot. They’d driven the thirty minutes to Corinth up Rural Route 655 to Highway 354, stopping briefly at the garage to let the locksmith in to replace the lockset on the main entrance along with replacing the tumblers on all the other doors. They would have to return along the same route to reset the alarm system, change the code, and make up a new key phrase.
All of this had become necessary when they realized that Joey’s keys hadn’t been in the manila envelope. So did that mean Joey’s truck had been seized as evidence and the Staties just forgot to mention that fact to anyone? Would the state police even answer her questions if she were considered the prime suspect?
“Let me do the talking,” Trigger urged, resting a hand on Devyn’s lower back. She’d changed clothes when she realized this would be their second stop. She had donned a white pair of jeans that resembled dress pants and a pink cotton shirt that had a white lace collar. She was dressed casual, and yet she appeared somewhat professional. She wasn’t usually one to
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