“Are we killing time while he stews?”
Bree sipped from her mug. “I’m stalling while I wait for the fingerprint examiner to call.”
“In that case, I’ll have both.” He stopped at the watercooler, filled a stainless-steel bottle, and drank deeply. “And maybe a snack.”
He bought a pack of Peanut M&M’s and a bag of almonds from the vending machine.
“Everything settled at the scene?” She poured coffee into a second mug.
“Yes.” He set his water bottle on the counter and traded the bag of M&M’s for a coffee.
Bree opened her package and ate a candy. “I don’t like leaving the remains overnight. It feels disrespectful. The victims have been waiting for years to be found. They deserve better.”
Matt chugged his coffee, then started on the almonds. “Deputy Juarez will guard the remains overnight. Nothing will happen. What those victims deserve is justice, and proper excavation will ensure the best chance of finding out who they were and who killed them.”
“I know.” But Bree didn’t have to like it.
Matt ate a handful of almonds. Turning, he lowered his voice. “How are you dealing with finding the remains at your family’s house?”
Bree felt the scrutiny of his intense blue eyes. He saw right through her.
“At first it was a shock,” she admitted. “But as I said earlier, I already know my father murdered my mother. If he killed a few more people, it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone.” Bree took a deep breath. She’d been trying to outrun her horrific past her whole life, but it seemed violence was determined to snap at her heels. Would tragedy always be right behind her?
Shaking it off, she explained about the relationship between Shawn Castillo and Elias Donovan.
“That’s unbelievably bad luck,” Matt said.
“Right? I’ll miss an autopsy tomorrow afternoon.”
Matt caught her gaze. “Do you have another homicide case?”
“I don’t think so. It was an OD, most likely accidental.”
“Then why did you want to attend the autopsy?”
Bree shrugged. “Just in case the ME finds something suspicious.” She pictured the victim’s grieving parents. “His death deserves as much of my attention as any other unnatural death. I like to dot my i’s and all that.”
“You like to make life hard for yourself.”
“Maybe I do,” she admitted. “Randolph County has had a dozen overdose deaths this year, and it’s only July. Something has to be done about the opioid crisis.”
“Bree, you can’t be everything to everyone. You’re only one person.”
Bree nodded. “You’re right. I need to improve my work–personal life balance.”
Marge knocked on the doorframe and poked her head into the room. “Shawn Castillo’s attorney is here. I put him in with his client.”
“Thank you, Marge.” Bree mentally cursed. She had wanted to know if they had a fingerprint match before she spoke with Shawn and his lawyer, but she’d have to wing it.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. “This is her.” Bree answered, then asked, “Were you able to pull any prints from the backpack?”
“The texture of the backpack exterior fabric was too rough,” the tech began.
Not a surprise.
“What about the objects inside?” Bree remembered plenty of smooth surfaces, including the bag of prescription pills.
“No,” the tech said. “All smudged.”
Damn.
“However,” the tech added, “I found a partial thumbprint on the bag of hydrocodone found in the footlocker. That partial matches Shawn Castillo’s. I haven’t finished with the rest of the evidence. I’m only calling because you wanted a match quickly.”
Bree exhaled. “Thank you for rushing that.”
“No problem, Sheriff. I’ll keep you updated.”
Bree ended the call, hoping more evidence would be forthcoming. Until then, she’d have to bluff.
CHAPTER SIX
Bree repeated the information for Matt.
“Good,” he said. “A solid drug possession charge should allow you to keep him at least overnight.”
“Yes.” Bree checked her watch. She’d purposefully stalled until the judge would be gone for the day. “I don’t want to turn him loose just yet. He looks like a flight risk, and we have no idea if he killed those people or simply found the skull.”
“And decided to play with it?” Matt raised a brow.
“I’ve seen weirder.”
Matt agreed with a nod. “So have I, unfortunately.”
Bree chugged the rest of her coffee, set the mug in the sink, then turned to Matt. “Ready to interview Shawn Castillo?”
“Let’s do it.” Matt carried his mug with him down the hall.
Bree opened the door. Shawn sat at the table conferring with a middle-aged man in a slick charcoal-colored suit. Slick was the attorney, no doubt. His hair was jet black with the perfect amount of silver at the temples. He was writing on a yellow legal pad. When Bree and Matt entered the room, he flipped a page to cover his notes.
The room smelled like hamburger and body odor. Bree glanced in the trash can and spied a crumpled-up fast-food bag.
Shawn sat back, slumped his shoulders, and crossed his arms. He glared at Bree. He might be a middle-aged man, but he wore insolence like a teenager. A take-out drink cup sat on the table in front of him. Who had bought him food? Not the attorney. He’d just arrived.
The attorney half stood for a split second. “Lyle Croft. I’ll be representing Mr. Castillo.”
Bree introduced herself and Matt.
Lyle resettled in his chair and smoothed his tie. He offered no opening comment. He folded his hands on the legal pad in front of him.
“I have some questions for your client.” Bree slid a Miranda acknowledgment and a pen in front of Shawn. She recited his rights, then said, “I need you to sign that you understand these rights.”
Shawn glanced at his lawyer, who nodded. Shawn signed.
Bree put the signed sheet in the file and returned the pen to her pocket. “This interview is being recorded.”
“Now I have a question for you.” The attorney flipped a page on his notepad, then read off a list of the charges Shawn had been booked on. “Do you really think you’re going to make any of these charges stick?”
He was taking the offensive? Interesting.
“I do,” she said. “Shawn is being held on trespassing, assaulting an officer, drug possession, concealment of a human corpse, and tampering with evidence.” Though Bree had no doubt Shawn would ultimately plead to lesser offenses. Technically, this was his first offense.
Lyle lifted the paper to check his notes. “He assaulted an officer?”
“Yes,” Bree said. “He threw rocks at me. It’s there in the report.” She’d considered adding a second simple assault charge, but the rocks hadn’t come close to hitting her brother. Some cops would have padded the arrest to allow for negotiating room, but Bree wasn’t a game-player. She’d rather make her case on the evidence.
The attorney didn’t seem impressed. His mouth curled in a smirk much like his client’s. “Did you identify yourself as the sheriff?”