Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(6)

Vail took the paper, folded it, then rose from her seat. “Thanks, everyone, for your help. Robby—he’s very important to me.”

“We’ll find him,” Brix said.

Vail made herself smile. “Thanks.” She wished she was as confident as Brix. At this point, she could not delude herself into thinking they had anything worth pursuing. That meant no viable place to start.

And that’s what bothered her most.





4


Agent Vail!”

Dixon and Vail, having just left the task force conference room, turned in unison. It was the sheriff—Stan Owens.

“A word?” As Owens approached, his eyes flicked to Dixon, then back to Vail. “Alone.”

Vail and Dixon exchanged glances. With Owens’s stepson, Detective Scott Fuller, having been murdered less than forty-eight hours ago—and Vail still in the sheriff’s crosshairs as the likely suspect—their silent glance was like shouting in a quiet room.

“Go on,” Vail said to Dixon. “I’ll be fine.”

Dixon nodded, then headed off down the hall as Owens approached.

“Sheriff.” Vail bit her lip. “Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Let’s go in here and talk.” He motioned to the nearby interview room. While it would certainly give them quiet and privacy, the irony was not lost on Vail; this was where she had interviewed Walton Silva, Scott Fuller’s alleged conspirator in setting the fire designed to kill her.

As Vail pushed through the door, she caught sight of Brix lurking down the hall.

He tilted his head ever so slightly. “Everything okay?”

Vail shrugged. “Yeah. Sheriff just wants to talk. In private.”

Brix squinted but didn’t reply. He headed toward her as she disappeared into the room.

Owens was already seated at the small faux marble table. He left vacant the seat facing the concealed wall camera. On purpose? What was his purpose?

Was he hoping to elicit a confession? Was he fishing for information? Or was this meeting something more benign?

“What can I do for you, sheriff?”

Owens squirmed in his chair. Leaned back, loosened his tie. But didn’t look at her. “Scott did set that shed on fire. At the school, when he was a kid.”

Interesting. “I know. We got hold of the sealed file.”

“Yeah.” He looked around at the table, the walls. Licked his lips. “We got him help. Therapist said it wasn’t a problem with him loving fire. It was just his way of acting out, of rebelling. He was the right age.”

Vail wondered why he was telling her this. Because he’d made such a scene of accusing her of Fuller’s murder? Because he had vehemently denied his stepson was capable of arson?

“Even therapists can be wrong.”

Owens snorted, then finally made eye contact. “Apparently he wasn’t just wrong. He didn’t know shit.” He waved a hand. “Aw, that ain’t fair. I didn’t see it, either. I thought Scott was a good kid, had straightened out his act. He wasn’t my blood, but he was my son. You understand?”

“Of course I do.” And she did.

“He had come from a broken home. His mother . . . Anita’s a good woman, but that bastard she married wasn’t worth the shit that came out of his ass.”

“I’ve known a few like that. It’s not necessarily Anita’s fault.”

“I’m not saying it was.”

He said it hard, sharp, like he resented what Vail had implied. But she wasn’t implying anything.

“I thought that because I got hold of Scott at a young age, I could fix him. Shape him. He had a rough streak that started when his father walked out on them. But I knew Anita before then. She worked at the Sheriff’s Department as a legal clerk. That’s how we met. When we got together, I just thought I could make a difference in Scott’s life.”

“You did. He became a cop. A detective.”

“He was a good kid.”

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but someone who sets fires and then conspires to kill an FBI agent doesn’t deserve the “good kid” label. Instead, Vail said, “You gave him a lot of love, sheriff. Stuff he needed.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Sometimes there’s only so much we can do. We’re wired a certain way as individuals. We may learn, change, adapt, but when pushed—or if the stress gets too great—peer pressure or whatever—we fall back into our old bad habits. Because it’s familiar to us, even comforting.”

Owens sighed, deep, hard, and uneven. “I’m gonna miss him something terrible.” His eyes canted toward the ceiling, filled with syrupy tears. “Is that wrong?”

“Of course not. He was your boy. Just remember the good times. Focus on those.”

Owens tightened his lips, then nodded. He lowered his eyes to hers. “Thank you, Karen.” He rose from his chair. “I hope you find Detective Hernandez. A guy like him, he’s hard to lose. He’s one big motherfucker. I know that firsthand. He sure put me in my place.”

Vail flushed. “Sorry about that.”

“Not at all. I deserved it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, my point is, I doubt anyone could get the drop on him.”