I set the picture down. “With the way things were, I’m shocked that they went to jail.”
“Too many racist politicians down here. But the upset from the voters changed their minds. It wasn’t hard to find them. The Klan members bragged about killing the girls.”
“Not the smartest group.”
“Not as smart as the Unsub.”
I scratched my head. “Our guy dresses the little girls up, does their hair, feeds them well, gives them communion, and places halos and wings on their dead bodies. Thompson and his friends didn’t do that.”
“There were bruises all over the girls before they hung them. The coroner believed there was. . .sexual abuse too.” Haven swallowed.
This is going to be hard for her.
She shook her unease away and pushed on. “Anyway. . .our Unsub didn’t sexually or physically abuse the Fullbrooke Six. He believes he’s caring for them. This isn’t a hate crime about color.”
“But color is important. Have you noticed that our victims are all the same complexion?”
“Dark brown like me.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Color is important to him, but he doesn’t hate it. And whether we want to admit it or not, there’s some form of love in his ritual.”
Haven went back to twisting the pen between her fingers. “Sheriff Bran would’ve been a young kid at the time his father went to jail. He looked to be in his early fifties.”
“Could have held a grudge with his father being sentenced and sought revenge, but. . .”
“The care of our girls.” Haven frowned. “Sheriff Bran wouldn’t press their hair. I also imagine we would find chewed tobacco all over the crime scene.”
“Yes. He’s very much an idiot.”
“I was trying to be nicer.”
“Not me.” I closed a file and set it on the pile. “Regardless, we shouldn’t overlook any of the Klan members’ kids from this town. They could be important.”
“I surely won’t.” She flipped to the first page of her notebook. “I have all the Klan members’ names.”
“Just in case. We must figure out if Sheriff Bran has an alibi for those evenings as well as any of the Klan members’ kids.”
“And how will we do that?”
“We’ll ask them.”
Haven wore a skeptical expression. “I don’t see everyone telling the truth.”
“Then, we’ll have to sniff out the liars.”
At that moment, the door opened.
Sheriff Bran stepped inside. Thankfully, he had ceased with his tobacco chewing. He smirked at me. “Did you enjoy your reading?”
“We have.” I gestured to the empty chair at the end of the table. “I’m glad you came. I was wondering if we could ask you some questions.”
“Me.” Sheriff Bran touched his chest. “About what?”
“The Strange Fruit murders. You were there.”
“I was just a toddler during this time. What would I know?”
I pulled out my small pad with the dates for the missing girls. “I was wondering where you were on these particular nights.”
“These dates are when the Fullbrooke Six were taken.”
“You have a good memory.”
Sheriff Bran laughed. “Am I a suspect in your case?”
“No. I just find you interesting.”
“Why?” Sheriff Bran sat down.
Haven spoke, “Your father was involved with the Strange Fruit murders. It makes us intrigued about your recent evening activities.”
“My father killed little girls.” Humor left the sheriff’s face. “So, that makes me guilty, agent?”
“No.” I shook my head. “It just makes me curious about your whereabouts.”
“I’m a sheriff.”
Haven crossed her arms over her chest. “You wouldn’t be the first sheriff to murder girls.”
Sheriff Bran pointed at the paper. “I guarantee that every date that you have, I can account for someone seeing me there.”
“What about Easter Sunday?”
“I was at the Tipsy Pig on that day. Many will say so.”
“What’s the Tipsy Pig?” Haven asked.
“A bar—one the best and few of this town. I’ve spent every night there since my wife passed away from breast cancer. Any night you have, you’ll find that I was sitting at the Tipsy Pig, having a drink. Perhaps, you should get a drink.”
Ignoring him, Haven asked, “Where were you on Valentine’s day?”
“The Tipsy Pig yet again.” Sheriff Bran turned to me. “Luther is the owner. He makes a great bacon sandwich. Everything they serve has some pig in it. Barbecue pork chops. Herb-crusted pork loin. Pulled pork hoagies. Even a few of the drinks has crispy bacon stuck around the glass’s rim. Each dessert is topped with chocolate bacon.”
I wrote the name down. “And you are there on most Sunday nights?”
“I’m there every night. I don’t have a woman to cook for me. Do you have a woman that cooks for you, Agent King?”
“Not yet.” I looked at him.
“You’re young enough. Get one. Since I lost Christine, I haven’t had a homecooked meal yet. That’s why I’m at the Tipsy Pig every night and especially on Sunday evenings. It’s the best meal on a Sunday, if you don’t have a wife to make your own.”
“Good food?” Haven held a stern expression. “Maybe, we should check it out.”
Annoyance crept into Sheriff Bran’s eyes.
I smirked. “I do have a taste for some barbecue pork chops.”
Sheriff Bran rose from his chair. “Then, enjoy yourself, but leave the files. You don’t take those with you. Colesville police have helped. Now you can leave.”
“We will.” Haven placed the rest of them in the pile at the edge of the table. “However, we may need to return and look some of the files over again.”
“Let’s hope they are still here when you return.” Sheriff Bran walked off.
I began to say something but left it alone. If we returned and the files disappeared, he would experience my wrath, backed by the federal government.
Why destroy the files? Are you hiding something?
Haven turned to me. “He wasn’t happy about our questions, especially when it was about his whereabouts. If we return, there won’t be a welcoming party.”
“Too bad.” I stood. “So, are you hungry?”
She smirked. “I am. Shall we go to the Tipsy Pig?”
“We must. It has pig products galore. What else could a man ask for?”
Haven scrunched up her face. “Pig products galore. Sounds tasty.”
While I didn’t know if Sheriff Bran had anything to do with the Fullbrooke Six, I did like the idea of annoying him further. Nothing pissed me off more than a cop that didn’t know his place. Six girls had been kidnapped and suffocated. He should have been giving me all resources he could to find the killer. Worst case scenario, a serial killer would begin to slip over to the town next to him. Colesville could deal with the same sort of cases next year.
But that was the problem with a man like Sheriff Bran. He didn’t care about the dead girls because they were black. And because of that, I would annoy the shit out of him for an hour and make sure his alibi was airtight.