Secrets Never Die (Morgan Dane #5)(23)

“Right.” But Sharp wouldn’t be surprised either way. Body cameras weren’t in the budget for the sheriff’s department yet. It would have been the suspect’s word against those of the deputies. The incident would have happened under the former sheriff, who had been known for looking the other way if a suspect got roughed up. “Did the complaint have anything to do with the falling-out between Paul and Brian?”

Jimmy lifted a shoulder. “I assumed Paul and Brian were told not to talk about it.”

But details would have leaked.

Sharp waited.

Jimmy swirled the ice in his glass and continued. “Paul and Brian were breaking up a bar fight. Paul had the patience of a saint, but Brian . . .” Jimmy wouldn’t directly criticize another cop, but the way he trailed off implied that Brian did not.

“Do you remember the name of the case?” Sharp asked.

“The guy’s name was Sam Jones.” Jimmy looked up. Phil was walking out of the short hallway that led to the restrooms. Jimmy’s mouth snapped closed. He wouldn’t say anything else about the excessive force case. He probably already regretted what he’d told Sharp.

Phil returned to the table.

And Jimmy returned to discussing general information. “Anyway, Brian is on vacation.” Jimmy raised his glass. The waitress knew him well enough to take her time bringing him refills. He was going to drink the booze as fast as she delivered it. “Here’s the worst part. Brian likes to go off the radar when he’s fishing. The sheriff had to leave a message on his cell phone. Brian doesn’t even know that Paul is dead.”

“If Brian knows the most about Paul’s cases, then I think I’d better try and find him.” Sharp drained his sparkling water. The fried pickle had soured in his stomach. Was there more to the excessive force incident? Could Brian be dirty? Had Paul known? The thought nauseated Sharp. “What does Brian drive?”

“A black Ford Taurus,” Phil said.

“Good luck finding the kid.” Jimmy shook his empty glass at the waitress again. “Let us know if we can help.”

“Thanks. I will.” Sharp left the bar and returned to the parking lot. A swarm of gnats attacked his face. He swatted them aside on the way to his car. Once he was behind the wheel, he called Brian Springer. The call switched to voice mail, and Sharp didn’t bother to leave a message. He plugged Springer’s address into his GPS and drove out of the parking lot. On the drive, he washed the taste of the pickle from his mouth with more green tea.

Brian lived in a development of small, well-kept homes on tiny lots. His one-story house was white with red shutters and had a small backyard surrounded by a four-foot-tall chain-link fence. His black Taurus was parked at the curb in the shade of an oak tree. A small shed occupied one corner of the backyard. Sharp parked behind the Taurus and walked up the concrete driveway. The lawn had been recently cut. The landscaping wasn’t fancy, but Brian kept it neat.

Sharp pressed the doorbell. He heard it chime inside the house. A minute later, when no one had answered the door, he pressed it again.

Nothing.

He returned to his car and scanned the street. A young couple pushed a baby stroller along the sidewalk toward him.

“Do you know Brian Springer?” Sharp asked as they approached.

The man stepped in front of the woman and baby. “Why?”

“I’m worried about him.” Sharp thought about the business cards in his pocket, then decided to leave them where they were. It might be best if the couple didn’t know his name in case the sheriff’s department came calling. “I’m a friend, and I haven’t been able to reach him for days.” The lie rolled smoothly off Sharp’s tongue. “Have you seen him?”

The man shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen him in a couple of days.” He turned to his wife. “Have you?”

The baby made a soft bleating sound, not unlike a lamb.

“No.” The woman leaned over the stroller. “But you’re the second person to ask about him.”

“We live next door.” The man pointed to the red two-story house on the adjacent lot.

Suspicious, Sharp asked, “Who else has been looking for him?”

“A police detective came by earlier today.” The woman lifted the baby, clearly a newborn, from the stroller and began to sway back and forth. The baby quieted. “I don’t remember his name. He wasn’t in uniform, but he showed me a badge.”

“He didn’t leave you a card?”

“No.” She smiled at the baby and made a cooing noise.

“Could you describe the detective?” Sharp pressed.

She frowned. “I spoke to him through the screen door. He was ordinary looking. Brown hair. Brown suit. He drove a dark-blue sedan.”

Sounded like a county detective. The sheriff had probably sent someone to find Brian for the same reason Sharp was here.

The couple took a step away.

“Do you remember the last time you saw Brian?” Sharp asked.

The man brightened. “I saw him on Saturday. He talked about a guys’ fishing weekend with his brother, but I’m not sure when he was leaving.” He looked to his wife. “Do you remember?”

“No.” She shrugged. “But he was going to bring me a key before he left so we could feed his cat and bring in the mail. He didn’t do that.” She pointed. “His car is still here.”