“Without makin’ a harsh accusation, right?”
Charlie grinned. “Of course.”
“All right then. Now that we’ve got a plan, let’s get’r done.”
She couldn’t help it, she laughed.
And yes, Slade Elliott definitely had a way of putting people at ease. After all, he’d done exactly that with her. Those nerves she’d had when she first left HQ … nowhere to be found.
Chapter Eight
When Brantley set out from HQ, he’d intended to go directly to Cedric Hawkins’s house but opted to make a brief detour at the last second.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Reese asked from the passenger seat.
“Good, bad, or otherwise, I think it’s necessary.”
“You’re just gonna piss him off.”
Sure, Brantley figured making a formal, in-person introduction to Detective Mathis might not go over well, but he didn’t much give a damn how his appearance at the police station affected anyone. At the moment, his only concern was the welfare of Cedric Hawkins, and it was crucial they had all eyes on this case if there was any chance they’d find the man alive. If he wasn’t dead already.
Had it not been for the shifting of detectives on the homicide cases, Brantley would’ve left it alone, but now he was far too curious as to why they were mixing things up at a crucial time.
“It’ll just take a minute,” he assured Reese, pulling up to the small building that housed Lakeway’s police department.
“Just promise me you won’t end up behind bars,” Reese grumbled. “This case is fucked up enough already.”
Brantley chuckled as he got out of the truck, waited for Reese and Tesha to join him. “I’ll do my best.”
When Brantley stepped inside the air-conditioned space, he couldn’t help but think back to their last major case, to the detective who had turned out to be a serial killer with multiple identities. Even now, all these months later, it had him questioning everything he saw, everything he knew. It hadn’t taken them long to figure it out, but at the same time, it had taken too long. One of the women Detective John Collins was holding prisoner had died because they hadn’t figured it out quickly enough.
There hadn’t been a day that passed when Brantley hadn’t thought about it. About what he could’ve done differently, should’ve done differently. There were always what-ifs, and he was plagued with them, not just with that case, either. At the same time, he knew he couldn’t let it skew his thoughts on the present. This was a new mission, with new players. It would have a different outcome, and if he and his team were doing their jobs correctly, they wouldn’t lose anyone else.
His thoughts instantly shifted to Kylie, to the loss they were all still mourning. That tragedy forever changed the Walker family, and deep down, Brantley still blamed himself. Always would.
“We’re here to see Detective Mathis,” Reese told the young man sitting behind a counter, a badge pinned to his uniform.
The officer picked up the phone, called someone.
While he waited, Brantley cleared his throat and forced the thoughts of their losses back. It wasn’t the time or place for reflection.
A minute later, he turned his attention to the pale-skinned redhead in the nicely tailored suit strolling toward them.
“I’m Maurice Mathis,” the man offered, holding out a hand and looking at them as though he’d never seen them before. “How can I help you?”
Interesting reaction.
Brantley shook his hand. “Brantley Walker,” he said easily.
Recognition dawned as the detective’s chin rose slightly, perhaps an attempt to hide his delayed reaction. “Then you must be Reese,” he said firmly, holding out his hand to Reese.
“This is Tesha,” Reese stated when Mathis glanced down at the dog. “She’s in training.”
Reese had been reiterating that fact wherever they went. They’d even gotten Tesha a harness that denoted she was in training and for no one to pet her. According to Magnus, when she was on assignment, she needed to remain in the zone, which meant no one petting her. No one besides Reese, that was. That man and that dog … Brantley figured it was only a matter of time before he’d be looking for a new partner, his slot filled by a canine.
Detective Mathis nodded. “Understood. Right this way.”
He led them through a maze of desks toward a conference room at the back. As he followed, Brantley took it all in, finding himself amused by the decor. It was a bit more upscale than what he would’ve expected for a cop shop, but then again, he knew that Lakeway was where the rich went to idly spend their days on the lake or the golf course. At least, that was the impression those who’d lived around the area were given growing up.
Detective Mathis led them into a conference room equipped with a rolling glass board that reflected several pictures categorized by victims and suspects and some chicken scratch depicting theories and questions.
The detective waved a hand at the board. “I’m in the process of outlining the cases now. Like I said, I just got them this morning, and it’s clear the ball was dropped.”
“Is there a reason for that?” Reese asked, looking over the details on the board.
“Above my pay grade, I’m afraid.”
Which meant he wouldn’t be sharing that information, even if he had it.
“Please have a seat,” Detective Mathis said, motioning toward the conference table.
“Thanks, but we’d rather stand,” Brantley said, not waiting for Reese to respond. “I prefer to run my investigations independently.”
“What he means is, he prefers not to skew his perspective with other people’s theories,” Reese clarified, clearly playing the nice guy. “But we’ll do our part to ensure you’re kept in the loop. We just came by to formally introduce ourselves, offer our assistance if you need it.”
Brantley could tell the detective wasn’t exactly impressed by their assertiveness, or their desire to maintain distance. However, this method was working for them, and until it failed him, Brantley had no intention of changing.
“Were your officers able to speak to Mrs. Hawkins?”
“Unfortunately, no.” The detective looked disappointed. “Mrs. Hawkins’s lawyer has advised us that any questions we might have should go through him. I had them ask her to come down here, but the lawyer politely”—he used air quotes—“refused. And until I have reason to believe she might have information, I have no grounds to bring her in.”
Brantley considered this, then nodded. “Then we’ll go speak to Mrs. Hawkins directly.”
Reese added, “We’ve got two investigators heading to the investment group’s office to speak to the secretary who called it in.”
Brantley turned to leave. As he was walking away, he heard the detective’s response: “I’m not sure they’ll give you much, if anything at all. We’ve had a couple of conversations with their public liaison, and he hasn’t been helpful.”
“Anyone else find it interesting that they’re hidin’ behind lawyers when a man’s life could hang in the balance?” Brantley muttered, not caring that no one heard him.