But the difference between the resources made available to Sheriff James’s office during the days after Kip’s murder versus Jenn’s abduction? That rankled. My feathers were officially ruffled. Riled even.
The only reason the FBI had shown up and donated resources to Sheriff James after Kip’s death—parking that damn van outside Diane’s house, tapping her, watching her—was because of Repo’s relationship with Diane. In retrospect, it felt like the only reason Diane had been the prime suspect was because some federal employee had wanted it that way. They wanted Repo to turn state’s evidence against the Wraiths, they figured they could use Diane to get to Repo, and so Diane—they’d decided—killed Kip.
Never mind the fact that Elena’s alibi and version of events from that night had more holes than a colander. And who had paid the price for the police ignoring Elena as a suspect? Jenn.
Jennifer had paid the price.
“Cletus.” Jackson glanced down at his notepad, scratching behind his ear. “You can stop plotting our murders with your eyeballs any time now.”
“But I haven’t finished,” came my very calm reply.
Boone, crossing his arms, glared at me. “You blame us? For what happened to Jenn?”
Jennifer closed her eyes and sighed. “Can we just finish with the questions before y’all start with that? The person to blame is Elena Wilkinson.”
“Who would’ve been in jail if y’all had done your job”—I lifted my cup toward the pair—“which means you’re to blame. Case closed.”
Boone chuckled, though he did not look at all amused. “Well, if it matters, Elena was our prime suspect and has been for weeks. So . . .” He shrugged, looking intensely frustrated.
I frowned. It was severe. “Is that so? Then what the hell—”
“Wait, wait a minute.” Jenn lifted both hands. “Does this mean my mother isn’t a suspect anymore?”
Jackson and Boone shared a look before the blond deputy shook his head, his mouth in a regretful looking line. “I’m sorry, Jenn. Your momma is still very much a suspect. There’s an APB out for her arrest.”
“Since when?” I started to cross my arms and stopped when I remembered I still held a full coffee cup. I hadn’t been aware of any APB.
“Since yesterday, when we found out the lodge ordered the same kind of rope used to strangle your father,” Boone answered shortly, flipping through his notepad.
“Was there an APB for Elena? Ever?” I knew I sounded salty and I was fine with sounding salty.
Neither of them responded. Both avoided my eyes.
“Well, that’s just great. There’s an APB out for Diane since yesterday. Meanwhile, Elena abducts Jenn. And while we’re on the subject, how’d Elena kill Miller without y’all knowing?”
“Come on, Cletus,” Jackson near growled, looking as irritated as I felt. “You know we don’t have the resources to follow Elena Wilkinson around.”
“But you have the resources to park a van outside of Diane’s house and watch her for weeks?” I countered calmly, as though I were merely curious.
A flash of what looked like anger burned brightly behind Boone’s glare. “They had their investigation—which we had no control over—and we had ours. If you want me to deny that Diane Donner was and is a suspect, I can’t. But they didn’t give us any resources to help solve Kip Sylvester’s death unless it suited their goals. We are doing our best with what we have. Regardless, finding the real killer has always been our goal, not harassing folks.”
“Oh? Like arresting the daughter of the deceased at the reading of her father’s will?” I stroked my beard, infusing my tone with more calm curiosity. “You mean like that?”
“Off the record—” Jackson sighed tiredly, swinging his apologetic stare between me and Jenn “—if we’d had a choice, that never would’ve happened. And I don’t know if it makes any difference to y’all, but Boone and Williams volunteered. It was going to happen no matter what, we couldn’t stop it, and Boone and Williams wanted to make sure you were treated kindly.”
Absorbing this insight, I narrowed my eyes on the deputies and looked at them. Really, sincerely looked at them. Boone looked like he’d lost weight, his hair and beard needed a trim, his eyes were puffy and fatigued. And Jackson . . . well, about the same as Boone.
“And we didn’t even know Miller was missing.” Jackson rubbed a hand over his weary features. “The man has been homeless for months, living out of his car. No one reported Miller missing, his kids had no idea and his ex-wife doesn’t keep in touch.”
“I didn’t know Miller was homeless,” I said because they’d caught me off guard.
This explained why I hadn’t been able to find a forwarding address for Miller and why all attempts to track him down had been fruitless. It also explained why Isaac hadn’t tried—or maybe he hadn’t been able to?—bug Miller like he’d bugged Jenn’s house.
If I’d known I wasn’t looking for a house or apartment, maybe I could’ve found Miller and questioned the man before Elena—
Well. No use thinking about that.
“Why did Elena kill Miller?” Boone, seemingly done with defending himself—or taking a short break from it—addressed his questions to Jenn. “Did Elena say why she killed him?”
“She was ranting, rambling. I wasn’t thinking about her words, I was really just trying to keep the car from going off a cliff.” Jenn twisted the blanket over her lap with her fingers. She was doing much better today, her color was better and her eyes were brighter. They had her sitting up, but she still wore the neck brace and both her legs were in casts.
Jennifer had already relayed the details of her story twice to Jackson and Boone but they hadn’t yet gone over what Elena had said to Jennifer. It wasn’t a long story—basically consisting of being drugged, waking up with her hands tied to the steering wheel at night with no headlights and no brakes as Elena forced her to try to keep the car from driving off a cliff with Miller’s dead body in the back seat—but my blood pressure had threatened to kick the lid off my temper each time.
This never should’ve happened to her. Elena should have been in prison.
If only Diane had ignored Jenn’s text message and stayed in the barn that night.
If only Repo hadn’t misunderstood what he’d seen and hadn’t whisked Diane away that night.
If only Isaac hadn’t shot Kip, but instead held Elena at the murder scene and called the police that night.
If only Isaac had killed Elena when she ran away from the car into the woods instead of firing warning shots over her head into the bakery that night.
If only Miller had left the gun where Isaac had dropped it that night, next to Elena, instead of taking it, putting Elena’s glove back on, and using the gun to blackmail both Elena and Diane.
If only . . .
“I can understand that your focus was on staying alive, but if you can remember anything Elena said, anything at all, it would be very helpful, especially about Miller.” Boone gave Jenn a soft look heavily seasoned with guilt.
“Okay . . .” She gathered a deep breath, stared over their heads at the wall. “Elena said Miller was trying to force her to give him back the farm.”