Hart and Hunter

Chapter 22

Ch. 22: Dane

"Look at the timestamp."

Julian taps a fingernail against his phone.

"This story dropped less than an hour ago, and it says the body was found earlier this morning. It's barely past eight! How is that possible?"

He radiates nervous tension, and I endeavor to project calm. Taking the phone from him, I skim the story. As the details sink in, my attempt at calm escapes me.

"Shit."

"What?" He chews a nail.

I read aloud. "Sheriff's deputies responded to a report of a body found along the shore of Spring Lakes Reservoir early Thursday morning."

"Yeah, and?"

I bite back a sigh as memory raises the ghosts of old frustrations.

"You ever worked with the sheriff's department?"

Julian shakes his head. "No. Just the police."

"Police jurisdiction ends at the city limits. Everything beyond that is the county sheriff's territory. Unincorporated areas, county land—the Reservoir, for example. So, even though this is clearly tied to an existing case, the sheriff has the lead."

"So... Coleridge isn't in charge?"

"Nope. And the county sheriff is an elected official. Sheriff Walker's father-in-law owns the local paper. Played a big role in getting him elected. Ever since, the paper's had a funny way of getting the scoop on anything big—like this."

"Isn't that a conflict of interest, or something?"

"Probably." I shrug. "Walker's not a bad sheriff, overall. The problem is, he's always got his eye on the next election, and he likes to see his name in print—more than is good for him sometimes."

Julian snorts. "He and Coleridge are best friends, I bet."

"They hate each other's guts."

His expression sobers as he takes his phone back and scrolls through the article again. "So, what does this mean for us?"

This time I fail to restrain it, and sigh as I tug on my hair. "Ideally, there's be close collaboration between departments, given the existing case, but... Coleridge will flip her lid when she sees this. Walker will be on the defensive, for sure."

Frowning, Julian shakes his head. "I can understand why. I mean, publicly identifying a victim like this..." He swallows and his voice drops almost to a whisper. "Do you think they've even notified Stephanie's family?"

I grimace. "Unlikely. You know how long it takes to clear a scene, especially if there's foul play involved. If this report has the timing right, I doubt they've even removed the body yet."

Julian's expression transforms with dawning horror, then hardens with resolve.

Rising, he snatches his jacket off the back of the couch and heads for the door.

"Come on," he calls over his shoulder. "You're driving."

***

The closer we get to our destination, the more concerned I become. Julian sits huddled in the passenger seat. Sweat beads his brow and his skin is even paler than usual, which is saying something. At first, I chalk it up to a rough night, Rhiannon's surprise visit, and the shock of the sudden news. Something keeps nagging at me, though, and finally—just as the wooden sign marking the Reservoir's picnic and day-use area comes into view—it hits me.