Bree nodded. “Yes. Multiple times.”
Lyle wrote a note.
“Your client had prescription opioids in his possession.” Bree faced Shawn. “Do you have a prescription for the hydrocodone?”
“Don’t answer that, Shawn,” the attorney said without taking his gaze off Bree. “How can you prove the backpack belonged to Shawn?”
“I saw him carrying it,” Bree said.
“How do you know he was carrying that particular backpack and not one that looked like it?” the attorney asked.
Bree didn’t break eye contact. “I saw the backpack very clearly.”
“While you were running at full speed through the woods?” The lawyer’s brows rose in doubt.
“Yes,” Bree said without hesitation.
The attorney lifted his pen. “Did you find my client’s fingerprints on the backpack?”
“No.” Bree let him think he had the upper hand.
Shawn gave Matt and Bree a smug stare. Bree wasn’t a violent person, but his privileged smirk was definitely slappable.
The attorney nodded but said nothing. “You’re going to file the drug charges anyway?”
“Yes.” Bree sat back. Did Shawn really think he could beat the charges by throwing his backpack a few yards? “We also found drugs in the footlocker in the loft.”
The attorney lifted a smug eyebrow. “Can you prove any of the items in the loft belong to my client?”
Bree dropped the bomb. “We matched a thumbprint from the baggie of drugs to Shawn.”
In the middle of writing a sentence, the attorney paused. Beads of sweat broke out on Shawn’s forehead, and his personal funk began to smell like fear. Had he not expected them to find prints? Seemed strange. Everyone knew all about prints in the age of CSI.
Bree addressed Shawn. “Why were you at the Taggert property?”
He shrugged, his eyes wary. “I like it there.”
Matt leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. “We found a sleeping bag in the barn. Is it yours?”
Shawn’s gaze darted to his attorney.
“Lying to us will only make things worse for you,” Bree said. “We have your thumbprint on the bag of drugs from the footlocker. I have no doubt we will find additional prints that match yours. The things in the loft belong to you. There are hairs in the sleeping bag. I’m sure DNA analysis will prove they’re yours.”
“Do you know what was in the sleeping bag?” Matt asked.
Shawn gave his head a slow shake, but his hands were shaking. He knew exactly what they’d found.
“It was a skull.” Bree let the tension build for a few seconds. “We found skeletal remains on the property. Did you bury those remains?”
Shawn stiffened. His gaze slid to the table. “No.”
“Did you kill them?” Bree asked.
Shawn jerked. His head snapped up. “No! Why would you think I did it?”
“Because you were there, sleeping with the skull?” Bree batted his question back.
The lawyer touched Shawn’s arm. “My client declines to answer that.”
Bree cut to the chase. “Where did you get the skull, Shawn?”
Again, Shawn glanced at his lawyer, who shook his head.
“Do you know how they died?” she asked.
He looked away and shook his head, his mouth tight. Was he lying?
“Do you own a gun?” Bree already knew no gun was registered to Shawn, but he could have an illegal one.
“Don’t answer that,” the attorney cut in.
She swallowed her frustration. “Is this the first time you’ve been to the old Taggert property?”
“Don’t answer that,” the attorney said, but Shawn was already shaking his head.
“Why did you camp at the farm?” she pressed.
“I like it there,” he repeated, mumbling.
“Why?” Bree asked.
Shawn lifted his gaze. His eyes lit with interest. “Bad things happened there. People died. It’s a killing place.”
The attorney looked disgusted. He leaned over and whispered in his client’s ear, “Will you shut the fuck up?” Then he muttered something Bree didn’t catch in a don’t know why I’m even here voice.
“What bad things?” Bree asked.
“You know.” Shawn’s eyes brightened, as if he were enjoying the discussion. “That’s where your daddy killed your mama, and they weren’t the only people to die there.”
The attorney looked like he was going to choke. “Stop talking.”
But Shawn was engaged. He didn’t want to stop. He leaned forward, his excitement palpable in the small room.
Bree shifted forward, mirroring him. She held his gaze and put some macabre interest in her voice. “How many people?”
“Lots and lots. At night, you can feel them.” Shawn’s eyes brightened further. His leg began to jiggle, the foot tapping on the floor in a crazed rhythm. He looked like he was going to explode.
“Did you kill them, Shawn?” Matt pressed.
The attorney grabbed Shawn’s forearm. “Do not answer that question.”
Shawn leaned back and crossed his arms. Was he paving the way for an insanity defense?
“Why were you staying in the barn?” Matt asked. “To be close to the people you killed?”
Shawn’s foot tapped in double time, and he shifted on the chair as if he could barely keep his body on it. His gaze darted between Bree and Matt. Then he side-eyed his attorney and pressed his lips flat.
The attorney grabbed Shawn’s arm again and held it in a tight grip. “Do not say anything else. You don’t have to answer any of their questions. It’s their job to prove everything. Don’t help them.”
“They don’t know shit.” Shawn’s chin lifted and his jaw tightened in defiance.
The attorney told him to be quiet and addressed Bree. “Do you even know how old the remains are or how long they’ve been there?”
Bree shook her head. “Not yet, but we will soon.” She stared at Shawn and threw out her bluff. “If you handled that skull recently, you left what we call touch DNA on the surface.” It was possible, but hardly a given that they’d find anything.
Thankfully, Shawn couldn’t restrain himself. “I found it. There’s no law against finding things.”
“Actually, there are laws against tampering with a crime scene and improper disposition or concealment of human remains.”
“We’re done here.” The attorney checked his watch, then shot Bree an accusatory glare. “It’s too late to get him arraigned today.”
Bree had planned on exactly that.
“What does that mean?” Shawn’s gaze darted between Bree and the lawyer.
“It means you can’t get bailed out today,” the lawyer said without breaking eye contact with Bree.
Shawn jolted, his shock palpable. “I have to spend the night in jail?”
“You’re being charged with multiple felonies, Shawn,” Bree said. Was he really this dense?
“Just one night.” The attorney slapped Shawn on the shoulder. “We’ll get you into court tomorrow, and I’ll have you out ASAP.”