He returned with the ice and a stack of paper towels, which he handed to Shawn. Shawn mopped his face and held the ice to his nose. His eyes were rapidly swelling. Matt expected him to be defeated, but a strange glee lit his eyes. The expression on his blood-streaked face was chilling.
Baton in hand, Bree glowered at the two suspects, then her deputies. No one moved.
Donovan gave Oscar an equally withering look, then switched his grim stare to Bree. “My brother needs to go to the hospital. You’ll be lucky if we don’t sue you.”
Bree met his challenge. “And Shawn will be lucky if I don’t add additional charges to his growing list.”
But legally, the odds were in Shawn’s favor, even if he’d started the altercation. He’d been injured while in police custody, and his brother had the financial resources to pursue an agenda.
A deputy walked in the back door. Bree collapsed her baton and used it to point at the newcomer, then at Shawn. “Take this man to the ER. Make sure he is appropriately restrained at all times. Do not give him an inch. Make sure to tell the ER docs that he has a history with narcotics.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The deputy handcuffed Shawn and marched him out the back door. Donovan hurried out of the station, presumably to meet his brother at the ER.
Bree called out to the shackled man. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No. I’m not a pussy!” he shouted back.
Bree turned to Matt. “You’re not even out of breath.”
Matt stretched his neck. “I’m durable. I get a solid beating every week in Nolan’s MMA class. My brother has been using me as a practice dummy since I was born.”
His brother was a retired professional mixed martial arts fighter and owned an MMA gym nearby.
They both nodded. Collins looked sheepish. Oscar remained stone-faced.
Bree pointed at Collins and Oscar. “Both of you, in my office. Matt, I’d like you to come as well.”
Collins walked gingerly. Oscar didn’t even have the brains to look embarrassed. He followed Bree, his posture still rigid, his chin lifted as if he were in the right, even though he’d failed to properly restrain or maintain control of his detainee.
This is not going to go well.
They trooped into the small office. Matt leaned against the wall. Bree sat in her chair. Oscar stood facing the desk, back ramrod straight, arms crossed over his chest. Collins sank into a guest chair. She rubbed her ribs, which Matt thought probably hurt more than she was admitting.
Bree pointed at Collins. “What happened?”
“I was fingerprinting my perp when Oscar brought that little asshole by.” She jerked a thumb at Oscar. “The asshole called my perp a pussy. My perp then exploded.”
Bree exhaled and turned her gaze to Oscar. “Why was Shawn not handcuffed?”
Oscar tried to shrug, but he was too tense, and the gesture looked like a muscle spasm. “I just hadn’t gotten to it.”
Bree frowned as she considered her deputy. Then she straightened her uniform shirt. “Don’t let it happen again.” She spoke to Matt. “Do you think Nolan would run some classes and practice sessions for my deputies?”
“I do.” Matt nodded.
“OK, then.” Bree fixed Collins and Oscar with consecutive death stares. “Let’s make that happen. I understand that we’ve been short-handed and scrambling for shift coverage. Now that we have five new deputies, we need to make time for training. Defense skills are perishable. We all need regular practice.” She breathed, clearly trying to be calm and proactive when down deep, she was probably pissed off in twenty different ways.
Both deputies nodded in relief.
Bree pointed at Collins. “Transfer your perp to the jail. Let them book him and hold him overnight. He’s liable to pull an Incredible Hulk on our ancient holding cell.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Collins fixed her bun and hurried out of the office.
“Oscar, back to work,” Bree commanded.
Matt waited until both deputies were gone and the door was closed. “You could have given them both written reprimands.”
“They fucked up.” Bree nodded. “But the truth is, we need more than one holding cell, we need more damned space, and I was being honest when I said we all needed more training and practice. It’s my responsibility to make sure my deputies have and maintain the skills they need to do their jobs.” She let out a tight breath. “But we did learn a few more things about Shawn.”
“We did,” Matt agreed.
“First of all, he’s more aggressive and capable of greater violence than I would have predicted.” Bree rubbed her elbow. “But I can’t decide if he’s a great actor or truly impulsive. Did he insult that man thinking he could get away with it here?”
“No.” Matt considered Shawn’s expression after the fight. “He wanted that fight. The big guy reacted exactly the way Shawn intended.”
Bree frowned. “Why? Why would he want to get the hell beaten out of him?”
“By going to the ER, he avoided spending a night in jail.”
Bree sat back.
Matt continued. “He looked pleased with himself.”
“If you’re right, then that’s disturbingly manipulative. He was willing to take a hell of a beating to get what he wanted,” Bree said. “Let’s hope we get some answers about our victims tomorrow.”
“Bones take time to analyze, and skeletal remains are not usually so easy to identify.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky, but let’s get a search warrant for his residence. Get another to search his phone. I want his financials too.” She looked at her phone. “I’m going home. Put a rush on those warrants. I want to search Shawn’s place tomorrow, before he gets home and disposes of any evidence. At this time, the charges against him aren’t severe enough for the judge to deny him bail, not with his brother’s expensive lawyer in his corner. Shawn will be out on bail by the afternoon. I really don’t want a potential murderer running loose.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Early Friday morning, Bree leaned over Cowboy’s withers. The warm wind whipped her face. Under her, the horse galloped across the meadow. Exhilaration flooded her as the paint’s hooves flew over the ground. Cowboy pulled at the reins, and she let him have his head. At the far end of the meadow, she eased him down to a lope, then a jog. He pranced a little, still excited from the run. Sweat gleamed on his coat. Bree lifted her T-shirt away from her chest.
“Easy, boy.” She patted the horse’s sleek neck. “I promise we’ll go for a longer run when this heat wave breaks.”
She slowed him to a walk as they approached the hill. In the distance, sunrise glowed on the horizon. They crested the hill next to the huge old oak tree. Bree stopped beneath its branches and turned her horse around to view the meadow she’d just galloped through. Yellow wildflowers dotted a sea of tall grass. It was in this place that she and the kids had scattered her sister’s ashes. Whenever she went riding with the kids, they stopped here. But there were times when Bree liked a quiet moment alone with her sister’s memory. Doing that while sitting atop the horse she’d inherited from Erin seemed appropriate.