Virginia handed her keys to the foreman, and he slipped behind the wheel of her car. He drove it toward the road and, as he did, she scanned the woods with frantic eyes.
Jeff whistled like a mockingbird and waved when Virginia looked his way. She put up her hand in a signal for them to stay put. She met the foreman at her car, now parked in front of his truck. He got out of her car and handed her the keys, and the two exchanged some pleasantries before he returned to his truck and drove away. Virginia slipped into her car and texted Jeff that the coast was clear.
Jeff dropped into the passenger seat. “What was that all about?”
Virginia waited for Emory to climb in and shut the back door. “That was the foreman at the water factory. He said he was looking for someone who had broken in, and he thought I might be an accomplice. I told him I had hit an icy patch and was too scared to try driving the car back onto the road.”
Jeff put a hand on her shoulder. “Quick thinking.”
“Thanks. So what did you two find out?”
Jeff filled her in on his experience in the factory, and when he was finished, Virginia asked, “Emory, did you find anything?”
The PI snorted and answered for him, “Oh, don’t ask him. He’s too altruistic to help us crime whores.”
“Okay, what did I miss?” She looked in the rearview mirror, and Emory diverted his eyes. “Fine. Someone at least tell me where to go next.”
Emory answered, “The sheriff’s station.”
Virginia was the only one to acknowledge Emory when he thanked them for the ride. As he walked toward the front door of the trailer, he noticed a truck parked beside the sheriff’s in the tiny parking lot. It was the same truck the foreman at the water factory was driving when he stopped to help Virginia.
“Crap!”
Emory about-faced. He saw a coffee shop across the street and decided he’d wait there until the foreman left. With a pull on the glass-paned door, he smelled the sweet caramel of grinding coffee beans, and he took a deep whiff as if he expected his lungs to absorb the caffeine. Behind the counter, he noticed Britt Algarotti’s best friend. “Tati. I didn’t realize you worked here.”
Tati stopped scooping coffee into the large paper filter long enough to offer a smileless greeting, “Hi Agent—”
“Rome.”
Her eyes rolled up and down his plaid shirt and faux-fur-lined denim jacket. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” She topped off the filter and dropped it into the brew basket of one of the coffee makers. “What can I get for you?”
“Just a plain coffee.” He looked at the clock on the wall behind her, which read half past noon. “Why aren’t you at school?”
Tati placed a cup in the coffee dispenser and pushed the button. “I took the day off to go to Britt’s funeral.”
“Why aren’t you there?”
Her eyes dashed toward the opening door and three new customers. “I’m leaving in fifteen minutes. I normally work in the afternoons, right after school, so I had to switch shifts today.”
Emory nodded and handed her money for the coffee. “Are you doing okay?”
Tati snarled at him. “You sure are asking a lot of questions.”
Emory brushed off her tone with a friendly laugh. “It is kind of my job.”
“Well, you’re keeping me from mine.” She nodded to the newcomers, who were standing behind Emory, waiting to be served.
Emory looked behind him and back at her. “Sorry.” He grabbed his coffee and sat at a small table by the window, facing the sheriff’s station. He spent the time in between sips going over the case notes and pictures on his phone. When he was three-quarters done with his drink, he saw the foreman exit the building. Finally! Downing the rest of the coffee, he got up to leave but stopped after a hand touched the crook of his right arm.
“Agent Rome.” Tati released her grip when he faced her. She was now wearing a white, quilted coat and on her way out.
“Tati, what is it?”
“I’m sorry about earlier. It’s just a bad day. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
Emory smiled at her, appreciative of the apology. “That’s okay. It’s not a day you should be experiencing so young.”
“Thanks for understanding.” The pale skin surrounding her numerous freckles reddened. “I’ll walk out with you.”
Emory opened the door for her. Once outside, their icy breath intermingled as they said their goodbyes. Tati walked down the street to her car, while Emory stepped over a blackened dune of snow to cross the street.
Emory’s father greeted him as soon as he entered the station. “Is Wayne with you?”
“Just me.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Come on into my office. I want to talk to you.”
Emory followed his father and closed the office door behind him. “What is it, Dad?”
The sheriff leaned against his desk and waited for Emory to sit before speaking. “There was a break-in at the Algarotti factory today.”
“Really?” Emory asked in his most innocent tone.
The sheriff crossed his arms and glared down at his son. “You want to tell me why the description of the intruder I was given matches you to a T – right down to that shirt and your size fourteen boots?”
“He could tell my shoe size?”
“No, that part came from me,” the sheriff growled. “I’m the one who bought them for you. Now what on Earth would you, an officer of the law, mind you, be doing breaking into a business that was closed?”
“I didn’t technically break in. The door was open.”
“Stop with the justifications!” Sheriff Rome’s wrinkles dropped from his forehead to center around his squinting eyes. For the next nine minutes, he lectured his son about following the letter of the law, a lecture that ended when Emory apologized and promised not to repeat the transgression. The sheriff said that he would accept the apology and make sure the case ended there but added, “Now they think this intruder might have something to do with the water thefts over the past few weeks, so you best avoid contact with whoever saw you today.”
Emory held up his right hand. “I will. I promise. About the thefts, what do you know?”
“They thought it was an employee, and they fired him, but we didn’t have enough to arrest him. A fella named Charlie Claymon.”
Emory’s ears perked up at the name. “Claymon? As in Dan Claymon, Britt Algarotti’s ex-boyfriend?”
“The same family. Charlie is Dan’s father.”
“Scot Trousdale told me that Dan pulled a knife on Victor the day before Britt died and threatened him.”
“He did? No one reported it.” The sheriff cupped his chin in his hand. “You think he was seeking revenge for his dad getting fired?”
“I’d bet on it. I wouldn’t doubt if that’s why he and Britt broke up.” Emory stood and looked his father in the eyes. “Dad, we need to bring him back in. We need to talk to him and his father. Separately.”
“You can’t interrogate the minor without a parent present.”
“Then get his mother to come too. You take one, and I’ll take the other.”
The sheriff scuffed his foot at the floor. “Fine. We’ll try it your way.”