hell, that didn’t help him much where the coroner’s report was concerned.
“Do you have the forensics’ or coroner’s report yet?” Special Agent Timothy Cranston leaned forward in his chair, the wrinkled material of his cheap gray suit jacket shifting loosely on his shoulders.
“Cranston, what’s your business in this?” Zeke leaned back in his chair with a brooding look. “If this has anything to do with another operation in my county, then now’s the time to give me a heads-up. Otherwise, I’ll stop playing nice.”
And that was Cranston’s only warning. The agent was hiding too much information from him and Zeke was losing patience with him.
Timothy grunted. “You stopped playing nice when your buddies in the Justice Department kicked my ass last year. Now, I’m being nice.” His smile was all teeth. “Janey’s upset over this. Rogue’s her friend and mine. Those twins were her friends, and Janey asked me to see what I could find out. I’d prefer not to pull in my own favors in D.C. at the moment, Sheriff. Might need those favors to get my job back.” The lying bastard. “So why don’t we all just play nice, and see if we can help each other here.”
Which pretty much meant Cranston was involved up to his beady little eyes in Zeke’s business. Playing along was easy enough, for the moment.
“Well, hell,” he growled, lifted the file, and tossed it closer to the edge of the desk. “Initial report. Joe was pumped on heroin. The city’s investigative coroner still has the bodies, but this is the county coroner’s initial findings. Joe was pumped, walked in, shot Jaime, then himself.”
Natches lifted the file from the desk, sat back, and opened it. Two cousins and one portly Homeland Security agent read over his shoulder.
“Not possible,” Dawg murmured. “Joe didn’t do this shit, Zeke. And he wouldn’t kill Jaime.”
“Dawg, I’m doing my best with what I have here.” Zeke sighed. “Forensics hasn’t come up with anything yet. No vehicle tracks were found outside the twins’ trailer, other than official vehicles that arrived that day. There was rumor of a fight over a girl, but no one knows who the girl was. There’s just nothing to stand on here but my gut and your suspicions. That’s not going to get me far.”
Natches tossed the report back to the desk before breathing out heavily and raking his fingers through his shaggy black hair.
“If we hear anything, we’ll let you know.” Dawg shook his head at that point. “But I know Joe or Jaime wasn’t doing heroin. That’s a promise. They weren’t exactly upstanding citizens, Zeke, but they didn’t do trash, either.”
Zeke could only shrug in response. “I need proof, Dawg. You know how it works. I’ll wait until forensics and the coroner’s investigator finish their reports. But initial calls to each aren’t promising. Until then, I’m asking questions and trying to piece this together. If Joe and Jaime were murdered, then someone knew what the hell they were doing, because I can’t find so much as a whiff of suspicion. It’s that simple.” And it was a message to Cranston. Zeke knew who he was after; the agent could stay the hell out of his way if he didn’t intend to play fair with Zeke in this little game.
“Damn.” Dawg rubbed at the back of his neck in a rough gesture.
Zeke’s gut went haywire when he knew things weren’t as they seemed. Dawg’s and Rowdy’s neck itched. Natches just became a time bomb with an assassin rifle. Who the hell knew what Cranston did; Zeke sure as hell couldn’t figure him out.
The Mackays weren’t happy, Zeke wasn’t happy, Cranston was smiling, and Zeke knew that this was a bad sign. Welcome to Lake Cumberland, he thought caustically. The last few years had been hell, for law enforcement as well as citizens. Pulaski County was a quiet little place, despite the tourism to the lake.
The mountains, vibrant forests, fishing, and hometown atmosphere hadn’t
“Do you have the forensics’ or coroner’s report yet?” Special Agent Timothy Cranston leaned forward in his chair, the wrinkled material of his cheap gray suit jacket shifting loosely on his shoulders.
“Cranston, what’s your business in this?” Zeke leaned back in his chair with a brooding look. “If this has anything to do with another operation in my county, then now’s the time to give me a heads-up. Otherwise, I’ll stop playing nice.”
And that was Cranston’s only warning. The agent was hiding too much information from him and Zeke was losing patience with him.
Timothy grunted. “You stopped playing nice when your buddies in the Justice Department kicked my ass last year. Now, I’m being nice.” His smile was all teeth. “Janey’s upset over this. Rogue’s her friend and mine. Those twins were her friends, and Janey asked me to see what I could find out. I’d prefer not to pull in my own favors in D.C. at the moment, Sheriff. Might need those favors to get my job back.” The lying bastard. “So why don’t we all just play nice, and see if we can help each other here.”
Which pretty much meant Cranston was involved up to his beady little eyes in Zeke’s business. Playing along was easy enough, for the moment.
“Well, hell,” he growled, lifted the file, and tossed it closer to the edge of the desk. “Initial report. Joe was pumped on heroin. The city’s investigative coroner still has the bodies, but this is the county coroner’s initial findings. Joe was pumped, walked in, shot Jaime, then himself.”
Natches lifted the file from the desk, sat back, and opened it. Two cousins and one portly Homeland Security agent read over his shoulder.
“Not possible,” Dawg murmured. “Joe didn’t do this shit, Zeke. And he wouldn’t kill Jaime.”
“Dawg, I’m doing my best with what I have here.” Zeke sighed. “Forensics hasn’t come up with anything yet. No vehicle tracks were found outside the twins’ trailer, other than official vehicles that arrived that day. There was rumor of a fight over a girl, but no one knows who the girl was. There’s just nothing to stand on here but my gut and your suspicions. That’s not going to get me far.”
Natches tossed the report back to the desk before breathing out heavily and raking his fingers through his shaggy black hair.
“If we hear anything, we’ll let you know.” Dawg shook his head at that point. “But I know Joe or Jaime wasn’t doing heroin. That’s a promise. They weren’t exactly upstanding citizens, Zeke, but they didn’t do trash, either.”
Zeke could only shrug in response. “I need proof, Dawg. You know how it works. I’ll wait until forensics and the coroner’s investigator finish their reports. But initial calls to each aren’t promising. Until then, I’m asking questions and trying to piece this together. If Joe and Jaime were murdered, then someone knew what the hell they were doing, because I can’t find so much as a whiff of suspicion. It’s that simple.” And it was a message to Cranston. Zeke knew who he was after; the agent could stay the hell out of his way if he didn’t intend to play fair with Zeke in this little game.
“Damn.” Dawg rubbed at the back of his neck in a rough gesture.
Zeke’s gut went haywire when he knew things weren’t as they seemed. Dawg’s and Rowdy’s neck itched. Natches just became a time bomb with an assassin rifle. Who the hell knew what Cranston did; Zeke sure as hell couldn’t figure him out.
The Mackays weren’t happy, Zeke wasn’t happy, Cranston was smiling, and Zeke knew that this was a bad sign. Welcome to Lake Cumberland, he thought caustically. The last few years had been hell, for law enforcement as well as citizens. Pulaski County was a quiet little place, despite the tourism to the lake.
The mountains, vibrant forests, fishing, and hometown atmosphere hadn’t
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