Lawman-In-Charge Read online

  Luke tried to peer past him. “Are you here alone?”

  “Yes.” Feeney’s scowl went away and he smiled, turning on the charm. “Look, Sheriff. If you’ll let me take out my wallet I can show you I’m a cop too. I didn’t break in anywhere.”

  Luke nodded, mostly because he wanted to make note of the guy’s badge number. When Feeney took out his wallet and opened it up he jotted down the number. “What brings you to Crystal Lake?”

  The charm faded a bit. “I came to visit my former fiancée. I bought her a drink at Barry’s Pub and we chatted for a while, but she left shortly after that.”

  Former fiancée? Luke narrowed his gaze. “You didn’t leave together?” he pressed.

  “We did, but then I decided to drown my sorrows at the pub, so I went back,” Feeney admitted. “It’s a short walk down Main Street.”

  Luke found his story a bit fishy. “You came all the way up here from Chicago to visit your old girlfriend?”

  Something dark flashed in Jake’s eyes. “Former fiancée,” he corrected. “And yeah, I admit it was a bit of an impulse on my part. Things at work have been difficult, and I needed a few days off. I thought getting back together with Megan might help. I’ve missed her. My life was better when she was in it.”

  Interesting how Feeney wanted Megan to be there for him but he hadn’t returned the favor when her sister was murdered. Selfish as well as being a jerk. “Your girlfriend’s name is Megan O’Ryan?”

  Feeney’s eyebrows rose. “You know her?”

  Luke didn’t bother to respond. “Megan’s room was vandalized at two-thirty this morning,” he said. “Did you break in? Because you’re carrying some sort of grudge after she refused to get back together with you?”

  “Megan’s room?” The flash of shock in Feeney’s eyes seemed real. “I thought she lived in some remote cabin on the lake?”

  His surprise seemed genuine, and he knew where Megan lived but hadn’t known she was spending the night here in town at the motel. Could he be the man following her? Possibly. But even if he was, that fact alone didn’t mean he was a murderer.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Luke said stubbornly. “Are you mad at her? Do you have some sort of grudge against her?”

  Feeney crossed his arms over his chest again, his expression one of annoyance. “No, I’m not carrying a grudge against her. Do I want to get back together? Sure. But only because I miss her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me and I stupidly let her go. But hey, if she’s not interested, then she’s not interested.”

  Luke stared at Feeney, not bothering to hide the protectiveness he felt toward Megan. “When did you arrive here in Crystal Lake?” he asked.

  Jake hesitated, obviously aware that Luke could verify whatever he said with the motel. “A couple of days ago. Thursday, I think.”

  Luke raised a brow. Interesting. “And you didn’t contact Megan until tonight?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why not?”

  Feeney shifted impatiently. “Look, why all the questions? I don’t have any reason to harm Megan or to break into her motel room. I didn’t even know she was staying here. If you want to search my room, go ahead.” He stepped back invitingly.

  Luke accepted the silent dare, glancing back over his shoulder to signal one of the deputies to come over. The two men went into Jake Feeney’s motel room and looked around.

  They didn’t find a razor blade or any evidence that he’d been inside Megan’s room. There was a hint of alcohol on Feeney’s breath, verifying his story that he’d spent the night at Barry’s Pub drinking.

  “Which car is yours?” Luke asked, when his deputy finished the search.

  “I have a rental, it’s that dark blue Toyota Camry.”

  “Why are you driving a rental car?”

  Feeney’s mask of indifference slipped. “It’s not a crime and it’s none of your business.”

  “It is if you don’t want me to impound the car as potential evidence,” Luke countered.

  Feeney flushed with anger. “You can’t do that.”

  “Sure I can. This isn’t Chicago. You’re on my turf now.”

  Feeney wrestled his temper under control. “I crashed my car about a month ago. I don’t need a car in Chicago, I can use the subway to get to work. But to come up here, I needed a ride. So I rented the car.”

  Trouble at work, a wrecked car. There was definitely more to Feeney’s story than what he was saying. “I need you to come down to our headquarters some time after eleven o’clock in the morning,” Luke said, closing his notebook.

  “What for?” Feeney demanded.

  “Because I want to check out your story and I may have more questions for you.”

  His scowl deepened. “But I’m not under arrest.”

  Not yet, Luke thought. “No.” He decided not to mention Liza’s murder. For one thing, if Feeney had been in town since Thursday, he’d have heard about it by now. And for another, if by some miracle he hadn’t heard about it, he wanted his reaction on tape.

  “Don’t leave town,” Luke repeated. “If you don’t show up tomorrow I will issue a warrant for your arrest.”

  The fake charm was back as Feeney smiled. “I’ll be there, Sheriff. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  Luke seriously doubted that, but he took a step back and then waited as Feeney went back into his motel room and closed the door.

  Heading back to his squad car, he debated how much to tell Megan. And what to do with her. Clearly, she was in danger. And he only had two deputies on staff during the night shifts.

  “What happened?” she asked, the moment he slid behind the wheel.

  “He claims he’s been in town since Thursday, and that jibes with what the motel clerk told me. But I think there’s more to his story.”

  Megan frowned. “Jake isn’t a murderer, Luke.”

  He didn’t necessarily agree. “It’s almost four in the morning. I need to do some work down at headquarters. There’s a small office with a cot at the end of the hall if you want to rest there for a while. It will take me some time to arrange for round-the-clock protection for you.”

  She hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. “I guess that will be fine. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather help with the investigation. If you have leads or something you need followed up on, I’d be happy to pitch in.”

  He considered her offer. As an experienced crime scene investigator, her input would be invaluable. Yet if the killer had targeted her for some reason, could her involvement actually jeopardize his case? Considering she had become involved, he should start examining the links between her old case and this new one.

  “Let me think about what you can help with,” he finally agreed. “And if you don’t mind, I’m going to run home first, to get my uniform.” And to talk to Sam.

  “No problem.”

  He headed for the highway, anxious to get back to his office so he could follow up on Jake Feeney.

  The more he thought about the guy’s story, the more implausible it seemed. If he was here to see Megan, why wait until Saturday night to track her down? What had the guy been doing since Thursday? They hadn’t seen any fishing or boating gear in the motel room.

  Luke didn’t like the Feeney angle. Didn’t like it at all.

  About a half mile from his home, his headlights picked up a lone figure walking alongside the road. As he drew closer, he sucked in a harsh breath.

  Megan had noticed the figure too. “Is that Sam?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” he replied grimly, slowing down as he approached his son. He had no idea why Sam happened to be walking along the side of the road at roughly four-twenty in the morning.

  And worse, he hadn’t seen his son since nine-thirty at night. So where in the world had Sam been for the past seven hours?

  SIX

  Luke pulled over to the side of the road, rolled down the window and glared at his son. “Get in.”

 
For a moment he thought Sam was going to argue, since they were literally a half mile from the house, but Sam wordlessly pulled open the back door to the squad car and climbed in.

  In his rearview mirror, Luke could see how Sam glanced at Megan before directing his gaze out the window. He belatedly realized his son didn’t know anything about Megan. “Sam, this is Megan O’Ryan. She’s a crime scene investigator from Chicago. Megan, this is my son, Sam.”

  Megan swiveled in her seat to make eye contact with Sam. She smiled. “Hi, Sam, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Sam murmured, surprising Luke with his polite response.

  Luke wrestled with the instinct to demand to know where Sam had been. Was it possible his son had walked all the way into town and broken into Megan’s room to leave the beer bottle?

  He didn’t want to believe it. No matter how sullen and angry Sam had become lately, he just couldn’t believe his son was guilty of burglary or worse, murder.

  But he had to admit, the fact that Sam was always disappearing, apparently without an alibi for the time frame of at least two crimes, cast a nasty cloud of suspicion over his son’s head.

  There were plenty of people in town who’d labeled Sam as trouble, the same way Megan had the first time she saw him. And even though he and his son had lived in Crystal Lake for eighteen months, many still considered them outsiders.

  He believed his son was innocent, but feared others in the area were just as likely to point the finger at him. Especially if they knew his son had a criminal record. Thankfully, juvenile records were protected.

  But they could be revealed by a court order from a judge.

  “Are you helping my dad with Liza’s murder?” Sam asked Megan. Again, Luke was surprised his son was even trying to make conversation.

  Apparently, Sam was willing to talk to anyone but him.

  Her smile was strained. “I’m trying.”

  Luke pulled into his driveway and then turned off the car. When his son climbed out, he spoke up. “Sam, I’d like a word with you if you don’t mind.”

  Sam grunted—a response Luke chose to believe was reluctant agreement.

  Megan glanced at him. “Luke, do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “Of course not.” Luke led the way inside and showed her where the bathroom was located, off the kitchen. He went back into the living room where Sam stood with his arms crossed over his chest defensively. Luke didn’t smell any alcohol on his son’s breath, and he tried to take that as a good sign. “What time did you leave the house?” Luke asked.

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He tempered a flash of impatience. “Look, Sam, I’m asking for a reason. There was a break-in down at the motel about two-thirty this morning. I’d like to know what time you left and where you’ve been.”

  The flash of surprise in Sam’s eyes was reassuring. “I don’t know exactly what time I left. But I walked down to the south shore for a bonfire. And then I walked back home.”

  Luke stared at Sam, trying to read his son’s face. As much as he wanted to believe Sam’s story, it seemed odd that one of his buddies wouldn’t have come and picked him up rather than making him walk.

  “Who was at the bonfire?” Luke asked.

  This time Sam averted his gaze. “There was a group of us. What difference does it make? I wasn’t anywhere near the motel.”

  Luke wanted names and exact details, especially if they’d been drinking. He didn’t smell anything on his son’s breath, but then again, if Sam had been walking for a couple of hours the alcohol could be out of his system by now. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Megan hovering in the kitchen, obviously not wanting to interrupt.

  “Write down the names for me,” he said finally. He decided to leave the alcohol issue alone for now, only because he really wanted the names of the kids who were present and he suspected Sam wouldn’t give them up if Luke came down too hard. “Sam, I can’t protect you if you aren’t honest with me.”

  Sam stared at the toes of his black boots for a long moment. “Fine. I’ll write them down.”

  Luke couldn’t hide his relief. “Thanks. It’s important, or I wouldn’t ask.”

  Sam gave a jerky nod and then disappeared down the hall toward his room without saying anything more. Luke gazed after him for a moment. Was it possible Sam was actually beginning to take this mess seriously? He certainly hoped so. His son had enough problems without adding any more.

  Luke quickly changed into his work uniform and then came back out to the kitchen where Megan waited patiently. She sipped a glass of ice water, her expression thoughtful. “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, rose to her feet and polished off the water before setting the empty glass in the sink.

  He debated knocking on his son’s door to get the names, but decided that information could wait. He needed to focus on Feeney for right now.

  Megan must have sensed what he was thinking. “Everything okay with Sam?” she asked.

  “Yeah, for the moment.” As they headed out to his squad car, he changed the subject. “Did Feeney explain why he wanted to get back together with you?”

  She glanced at him in surprise, their gazes locking over the roof of the car for a long moment before she broke the connection by sliding into the passenger seat. “No, but then again, I didn’t ask. Mostly because it really wouldn’t matter one way or the other, my answer would have been the same.”

  A flicker of satisfaction eased the tension in his shoulders. “Apparently he’s had some trouble at work. I’m going to do a little digging to find out more.”

  She frowned a bit and nodded. “And what would you like me to do?”

  He flashed a wry grin. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that you get some much-needed rest?”

  “I’m too keyed up to sleep.”

  He suppressed a sigh, wishing she would simply let him take care of her. But Megan had an independent stubborn streak. “Okay, then maybe I’ll have you go through the information on Paul Sherman again from the trial. Maybe there’s someone close to him who is carrying a grudge against you for locking him up.”

  Megan nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

  “Good.” He pulled his vehicle into the parking lot and led the way inside the sheriff’s department headquarters. At this time of night, the place was pretty much deserted except for Abby, the night shift dispatcher.

  “Abby, this is Megan O’Ryan,” he said, making quick introductions. “Megan, this is Abby, the night shift dispatcher for the county.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Abby said.

  Megan walked over to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “Megan is going to stay in the back room for a while,” he informed the dispatcher. “I told her to make herself at home.”

  “Sure, no problem, boss.”

  He grimaced a bit. Abby knew he hated being called “boss,” but since that was how she’d always addressed his predecessor, the habit had been hard to break.

  After getting cups of coffee from the coffeepot that he kept stocked with decent coffee, no station sludge allowed, they made their way to his office.

  “Okay, here are the transcripts from the trial,” he said, handing Megan a huge binder full of paper. He led the way down the hall to the small room that was used as an office/sleep room. There was a desk with an older-model computer and a sparsely made cot. When Megan sat down in the chair behind the desk, staring at the binder, he hesitated. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this? Because you don’t have to help.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said hastily.

  “If you’re sure. Otherwise, if you want to catch up on some sleep, that’s fine too.”

  “I’ll review the information first.” Megan glanced up at him, the familiar stubborn angle to her chin making him want to smile. “Thanks for bringing me here, Luke. Being part of the action is much better than sitting in some motel room all alone.”

  The urge to cross over and
gather her close was almost overwhelming. He slid his hands into his pockets as a reminder to keep them to himself. He was still bothered by her earlier comment. God hadn’t given up on her, but she’d clearly given up on Him. But Luke wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of her faith, or lack of, so he stepped back. “You’re welcome,” he said gruffly. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  He turned on his heel and strode back to his office before he did something he’d regret.

  Like kiss her.

  It took him a while to get in touch with the Chicago P.D. district that Jake Feeney worked for. And even then, it took another hour for the lieutenant in charge to get back to him. That conversation was brief, the lieutenant basically telling him he had to wait for Feeney’s superior to come in.

  At seven in the morning, his phone finally rang. The caller was the Chicago chief of police, not Feeney’s direct supervisor.

  “Sheriff Torretti? I understand you’re looking for information on one of my men.”

  Luke knew he had to step carefully or these guys would clam up and he’d never get anywhere. “Thanks for returning my phone call, Chief. I only wanted to verify what Officer Feeney told me. I’m investigating a series of crimes here in Crystal Lake and one of the victims happens to be Officer Feeney’s ex-fiancée. When I questioned him as to why he was here in Crystal Lake, he told me he took a few days off because he’s had some trouble at work. He also told me that he was driving a rental car because he’d been in a motor vehicle crash about a month ago. Are you willing to verify both of those claims for me?”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Luke’s heart sank when he sensed he was about to be stonewalled. “All I can tell you at this time is that Officer Feeney is on paid leave. And yes, he was in a car crash recently. I’m happy to send you the police report.”

  “I would appreciate that, Chief.” Luke drummed his fingers on the desktop, trying to figure out a way to get more out of the tight-lipped chief of police. His gut was telling him that there was much more to this story; why else would he be getting a call from the chief himself? “You mentioned how Officer Feeney is on paid leave. Can you tell me if his conduct on duty is being investigated?”