I know now, and the ability to be myself—as I am—with Jay is revealing.
“About what you said the other night…” I let my words drift off and look at him.
“You mean that I love you?”
One eyebrow is raised and his eyes smile warmly as he brings our joint hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
“Yes.”
“It’s been on my lips to tell you a few times, but I held back worrying maybe you’d think it was too soon, or the timing was off. I know that night may not have been the ideal time to confess my love either, but I was crazy with the thought something could’ve happened to you without you knowing.”
“Jay…” I whisper, moved by his words, but he shakes his head.
“I don’t expect you to feel the same way, Merry, not yet, but I’ve been carrying these feelings for a while. Even before I inserted myself into your home repairs.”
“You mean Autumn volunteered you,” I tease.
“Nah, I’d already made up my mind.”
I set down my coffee cup before lifting my hand to his face. His normally trimmed beard has grown a little wild this past week. I like it, it makes him look a little less controlled. His face still carries the marks of sleep and his left eye is no more than a slit from the bruising and swelling around the stitches in his forehead, but all I see is the warmth in his smile and the love in his gaze.
“How’d I get so lucky?”
He chuckles softly. “Didn’t we have this conversation already?”
I lean over and brush his lips with a sweet kiss.
“Jay, I—”
Beau starts barking just as the doorbell rings in the front of the house.
“Hold that thought, Merry,” he rumbles, dropping a quick peck on my forehead before he’s up and heading inside.
Evidently my timing is off too.
Jay
“I can’t even wrap my head around it.”
Meredith tops us up with coffee.
Of course Blackfoot had to show up in the middle of an intimate moment. Unless I’m way off base, Meredith was on the verge of admitting she returns my feelings, but like I told her earlier, I’m not in a hurry and I don’t need the words to know where this is going.
“The original rental agreement was signed two years ago,” Keith states. “But God only knows how much longer this has been going on. Those two have known each other since McCarty was working at Benson’s driving one of their limos. I wasn’t aware of that detail until this morning’s briefing.”
The two he is referring to are Billy McCarty and Rob Wenner, both of whom appear to be talking. Mostly to point fingers at the other but with the help of evidence recovered, it looks like law enforcement will be able to piece it together.
It sucks, sitting idly on the sidelines leaving others to solve the case, but I appreciate Keith stopping in to keep me in the loop.
Wenner was the mastermind, as McCarty allegedly tells it, and had been selling the occasional body before he encouraged him to apply for a job with the crematorium in Aztec. Benson doesn’t have its own incinerator and always ‘farmed out’ their cremations. Wenner saw it as an untapped supply, since his only source so far had been the occasional closed casket burial.
Billy admitted requesting as many nightshifts as he could get, because he would work alone and didn’t only collect remains, but was responsible for running the incinerator as well. He would pick up a body, take it to the storage unit, where Wenner would process it and McCarty packaged the parts.
Urns were returned to waiting, unsuspecting families, filled with dry cement mix, while their loved one’s remains were sold piece by piece on the black market.
When demand went up and they weren’t able to meet it, they resorted to targeting those who were least likely to be missed. Keith said Wenner claimed it was Billy’s idea to lace drugs and make it look like a legit overdose to avoid closer scrutiny, but that might just be so he could blame him for the failure. Neither McClintock or Heath made it out of storage. Margaret McClintock’s body had been too deteriorated, according to Wenner, and they had only just finished processing Heath when there’d been the power outage.
That had been the beginning of the end.
Afraid someone might notice the smell, Billy had paid Tom Ward to help him get rid of the remains and dumped them at the back of his property. Tom was supposed to burn the parts in the fire drum, but when neighbors complained about the stench and called police, he panicked and loaded what was left of the remains in his truck and dumped them where he hoped they wouldn’t be found.
It’s likely what got him killed.
Hard to believe if they hadn’t made the mistake of involving Tom Ward, these guys might still be in business.
“And Jordan Dunwoody?” Meredith asks. “Was he in on it?”
“Not according to Wenner. He says Billy introduced them. Jordan would hang out at the trailer with some of his cousins to drink and do drugs.” Blackfoot absentmindedly strokes Belle, who climbed on his lap two seconds after he sat down. Little traitor. “The two got involved but Jordan insisted it had to be kept under wraps. Pastor Dunwoody supposedly wouldn’t take kindly to his son being gay.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
Meredith rolls her eyes and Keith chuckles.
“Yeah. Anyway, he claims he doesn’t know how Jordan got his hands on those drugs.”
“I think he’s lying,” she says, leaning her elbows on the table. “He knows, he all but admitted to me Jordan had taken something when he snuck out that morning.”
“Hardest part of the job is knowing you may never have all the answers, Doc. You oughta know that.”
Blackfoot gets up and carries his cup to the sink.
“You off?” I ask him, standing up as well.
“Yeah. Benedetti wants me to sit in on a few interviews.”
“For what?”
“Addition to the team. Let’s face it, the schedule was already tight and now with you out of commission…” He lifts his chin in the direction of the front door. “Walk me out? Later, Doc,” he adds for Meredith’s benefit.
Once outside he pulls the door closed.
“I talked to Joe. About my…” He seems at a loss for words and taps his chest with his hand.
“Heart condition?” I fill in.
“Yeah, that. Had no choice, Autumn got into it with me when I got home in the early hours yesterday morning. Gave me an ultimatum, either I slow it down or she wasn’t gonna wait around to watch me kill myself.”
He vigorously rubs his hands over his face.
“You told him.”
“I was ready to quit.”
“Quit?”
He stares off at the horses, grazing at the far end of the field.
“I used to live for my work, it was all I cared about until I met Autumn. The thought of her leaving, fuck yeah, I was ready to hand in my resignation, but Joe wouldn’t take it.”
I nod, getting it, although don’t think I would’ve understood even a few months ago.
“So he’s hiring new blood.”
“Yeah, and I’ll become the old rusty fart who’s outlived his usefulness and gets relegated to a desk in the far corner,” he grumbles.