Disbelief clouded Shawn’s face, and he muttered, “Jail? I can’t go to jail.”
The attorney ignored the comment.
Bree opened the door and called for Oscar to transport Shawn to the jail. Lyle hurried down the hall toward the lobby. Bree and Matt were on their way back to her office when she spotted Elias Donovan in the lobby conferring with the attorney. Donovan was a tall man with short gray hair, a goatee, and wire-rimmed glasses. His expensive suit was obviously tailored to fit his lean body. Their gazes met across the station. A bright spark of anger lit his eyes before he turned his attention back to the lawyer.
Bree walked into her office. Matt followed and closed the door behind them.
She sank into her chair. “What do you think?”
Matt paced the small space between the guest chairs and her desk. “I don’t know. The skull in the sleeping bag was freaky. I don’t like freaky.”
“Me neither.” Bree tossed the file into her inbox.
“That was a weird interview.” Matt stopped and scratched his chin.
“Yeah.” Bree tapped her fingers on the desk. “I don’t know what to make of Shawn. He’s a tough one to read.”
“His emotions were inconsistent.”
“They were,” Bree agreed. “He was cool and arrogant until I asked about the bones. Then he got excited. Did he like talking about dead people, or did it feel like he was playing with us?”
Matt stroked his beard. “He seemed confident his brother’s attorney can handle the lesser charges. But murder is a whole different ball game.”
A crash sounded on the other side of the door. Bree jumped to her feet and flung open the office door as the station erupted in chaos.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Matt rushed toward the door, but Bree was already through it. He was right on her heels. He burst through the opening and drew up short, assessing the situation in a quick glance. The squad room was complete bedlam. Chairs had been knocked over. Shawn and a much larger man were rolling on the floor trying to punch each other. The big man was heavily tattooed with a full Duck Dynasty beard.
The men stopped rolling with Shawn on the bottom. He gasped under his opponent’s greater weight but somehow managed to slide out from under him like a slimy eel. He was halfway to his feet when the big man rose onto one knee and let loose with a backhand that knocked Shawn ass over end.
Shawn slid into a desk. The desk careened across the space—right into Matt’s path. It hit him in the legs with an impact that was sure to leave a mark. A phone, a lamp, and assorted office supplies flew off the top and went sliding across the cracked linoleum. Shawn wobbled on his feet for a nanosecond before the big man charged him, taking him to the ground again.
Oscar and Deputy Laurie Collins rushed in and attempted to get past the men’s kicking legs. Collins took a boot in the chest and fell back, gasping. Oscar went after Shawn—the lesser threat.
Typical, thought Matt as he vaulted over the desk.
To his right, Bree weaved around another desk, two fallen chairs, and more desktop debris.
The men rolled again. Their colliding bodies knocked Oscar back. Panting, Shawn weaseled out from underneath the bigger man. His opponent was twice his weight, but much slower. Matt had to give Shawn credit. He was a scrapper.
The fighting men scrambled to their feet and faced off. Oscar jumped into the fray and grabbed Shawn’s arm, but all his action accomplished was to allow the larger man to land a solid punch to Shawn’s face. Blood spurted from his nose. The big man pulled his arm back to fire another punch. On the backswing, his elbow struck Oscar in the chin, knocking him off his feet.
Collins got to her feet, but she looked unsteady. Her face was pale, and she was sucking air like a landed guppy. Oscar was down on his hands and knees. He shook his head as if to clear it.
Bree shoved aside a wheeled chair and headed directly into the fray. Matt tried to pass her. The second man was bouncer-big. His biceps were so bulgy he probably couldn’t wash his own face. Not that his size would deter Bree. She waded right past her struggling deputies, the look on her face fierce.
“Freeze,” Bree shouted.
No one responded. The fighting men were completely focused on each other. The larger man caught Shawn around the waist, twisted, and threw him to the ground. Then he rolled Shawn onto his back, straddled him, and raised a giant fist over his shoulder, preparing to pummel him.
Whipping out her baton, Bree flicked it to full length. Then she caught the larger man from behind in a seat belt hold. Her arms weren’t long enough to encircle his torso, so she used the baton against his chest as leverage. But he was enraged. He tried to shake her off. Bree hung on as the man bucked. He rose onto his knees, reached over his shoulder, and tried to grab her. Ducking away from his clawing hand, she lost her grip and fell off his back. She was moving in again when Matt stepped between them.
He dived at the larger man, tackling him and taking him to the ground next to Shawn. At six three and two hundred pounds, Matt was no lightweight. But the other man had three inches on him, along with a fifty-pound weight advantage. In his peripheral vision, Matt saw Shawn roll to his hands and knees and crawl away.
In normal grappling with a much larger opponent, Matt would have gone for a rear naked choke, but chokes were not permitted as restraints. He’d have to find another way.
The man reached for Matt’s head. Matt took advantage, catching the man’s elbow under his own and stepping over him to straddle him, sitting on his opponent’s hip.
Matt trapped the big man’s upper arm between his own knees and wrapped it up tight. Then he rocked sideways, using the weight of his entire body against the big man’s elbow and shoulder. The man’s other arm was pinned under his body. With his shoulder locked up and his elbow hyperextended, the man couldn’t move without damaging one of his own joints. Trapped in an armbar, the man struggled for a few seconds.
“Don’t make me break your arm,” Matt said. “I can sit here all day.”
The man went still. Matt could feel his chest heaving.
Matt waited for Bree to appear at his side with a pair of extra-large handcuffs. The big man didn’t resist as she restrained him. Then Matt hauled him to his feet and shuffled him to the steel bench at the rear of the room. Once the man was secured to the bench, Matt stepped back. “Do you want to add shackles?” he asked Bree.
Bree glowered at the man. “Yes.”
Matt retrieved a set of leg shackles and put them on the prisoner. Stepping back, he assessed Collins. She was bent over, her hands resting on her thighs.
“You OK?” he asked.
“Just had the wind knocked out of me,” Collins said between gulps for air.
Bree squinted at her deputy. “Do you need the ER?”
Collins shook her head. “I’ll be fine in a couple of minutes.”
Oscar leaned on the wall, breathing hard.
“Are you injured?” Bree asked him.
He shook his head.
Elias Donovan and Shawn’s attorney rushed in.
“What happened to my brother?” Elias asked.
Shawn was holding both hands to his face. Blood seeped between his fingers. “My nose is broken. I can’t see straight.”
“Get him an ice pack,” Bree ordered. Oscar hustled out of the room.