Buried (Bone Secrets, #3)(35)

Michael noticed Jamie stop with a chip halfway to her mouth and slowly lay it back on her plate. “He shoots at people?” Her voice cracked.

“No. I’d say he’s just well prepared. I haven’t been out there for a while, but around the time of Elena’s death, I made several trips. I always saw the rifle before I saw the owner. That’s okay. There’s a lotta people around here like that. You just need to make your presence known. He doesn’t have a landline. If he has a cell phone, I don’t know what it is, and I doubt he gets much coverage if he does.”

“Back to the rifle,” interjected Michael. “He hurt anybody?”

“Nope.”

“But you know he’s a crack shot?”

“Yep, my deputies have watched him out at the firing range. Said they’ve never seen anything like his accuracy. Rifle and handgun. Seems to have quite the arsenal. They’ve seen him with half a dozen different weapons.”

Michael glanced at Jamie. She shook her head. “That’s news to me. I didn’t know he could shoot.”

Shrewd eyes studied Jamie. “How do you know him? He doesn’t speak to anyone except old Juan, his closest neighbor. Even he lives half a mile away. Jacobs has lived out there as long as I’ve been sheriff, and that’s been over ten years.”

“He’s my brother,” Jamie said simply. “He moved out when he was eighteen.”

The sheriff nodded slowly, his eyes sympathetic. “He keep in contact?”

Jamie shook her head. “Not really.”

Sheriff Spencer looked away for a few seconds, pressing his lips together as he thought. Michael watched the man wrestle with a decision. There was something he didn’t want to share, and it didn’t speak highly of Chris Jacobs.

“Spill it,” Michael ordered. He took Jamie’s hand under the table and gently squeezed. Her hands were cold.

“Well, I’m not one to gossip—”

“Then don’t. If you don’t know it to be true, then I don’t want to hear about it,” stated Jamie. Her grip tightened on Michael’s hand.

The sheriff rubbed a hand across his mouth. “The woman. Elena. They never married. That’s no big deal, and having a kid while not wed wasn’t a big deal to most around here. They looked happy whenever I saw them. Can’t say I’ve ever seen him smile since she died—”

“What’s his name? The boy?” Jamie interrupted again.

The sheriff’s eyes widened. “You don’t know his name? Jesus H. Christ. That’s a hell of a brother you’ve got there. The boy is Brian.”

Michael watched Jamie’s lips move as she silently spoke the name. Her eyes grew wet.

“I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell you,” Sheriff Spencer snorted. “Why in the world would he refuse to tell you Brian’s name?”

“I didn’t know about him. Brian. I didn’t even know he existed.” Jamie’s voice drifted off.

“That’s even worse.” The sheriff shook his head, wonder in his eyes.

“What were you about to say about Jacobs?” Michael brought the sheriff’s focus back to the matter at hand.

A blank look crossed his face for a split second. “Crap. Lost my train of thought. I was about to say people think Chris was in the car with Elena when it crashed. Maybe somehow caused the crash. He had a big bruise on his face that day, but claims he’d accidentally whacked himself with something…I don’t remember what. It was enough to make people talk, wonder why he’d not admit to being at the scene of the accident. Made him look guilty in some way.”

“He said he wasn’t there?” Michael asked.

“He said he was home.”

“Why would he want to cause an accident? You said they seemed happy.”

The sheriff shrugged. “Elena was a Mexican gal. Probably illegal. I figure that’s why they never married. She just appeared around town one day, no family, looking for work. I’m not certain how she hooked up with your brother. Anyway, some stuff didn’t make sense at the accident. The passenger door was open. Elena’s blood was on the outside of her door, but her door and window were shut. Someone had been there after the accident. Jacobs seemed the most likely. The accident happened close enough to their home. He could have easily walked home.”

“Who found her?” whispered Jamie.

“Dean Schmidt. Driving by. Swears he didn’t touch the driver’s door. He’d noticed it was bloody when he got there. He checked Elena from the passenger side and said that door was open. He had to drive a few miles to get a cell signal to call it in.”

“He could have messed up the scene,” stated Michael.

“He could have,” the sheriff agreed. “Dean is eighty-eight years old and sharp as a whip. I guess he watches CSI all the time, said he knew not to touch anything. He checked for a pulse and that was it. A lot of the blood had already dried, and she was nearly cold by the time he found her.”

“So anyone passing by could have tampered with the scene.”

“I’d usually agree with that statement, but that road only goes to the Schmidt place or your brother’s place. The chances of anyone else driving by are slim to none.”

“Chris was never arrested for anything, right?” Jamie asked.