“Is the sheriff in?” Liam asked as he stepped up to the window, leaning forward so his voice would carry through the porthole.
The woman raised her eyebrows and seemed to take him in for a moment before shaking her head. “No, he’s not at the moment. Can I help you with something?”
“Is he at the Dempsey house?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you, sir?”
“I’m Allen Dempsey’s brother. I need to speak with the sheriff or the BCA agents assigned to the case.”
The deputy’s face softened. “I’m very sorry for your loss. They should be back from the crime scene sometime later this afternoon, if you’d like to leave them a message.”
“Thanks, but I’ll try to catch up with them there,” Liam said, turning away.
“Sir, you won’t be allowed at the—”
Her words were lost to him as he pushed through the door, into the heat of the afternoon.
His brother’s house sat atop one of the highest bluffs overlooking the town. Liam almost didn’t remember how to get there; over ten years had passed since his last visit, and the hurried drive away from the house was a blur that he couldn’t fully recall. He followed the faint memory up a fork in the main street at the very end of town, the smooth pavement turning to even smoother concrete as his pickup climbed up and away from the city below. He made a left turn at a T at the top of the hill and followed a wooded road until he spotted the ornate mailbox adorned with his brother’s name. He shook his head, out of habit, at the Dr. before Dempsey emblazoned in silver on the mailbox’s side, and turned down the private drive. After two curves, he saw the rear end of a sheriff’s cruiser and a flapping strand of yellow Do Not Cross tape, its message vanishing and reappearing with the touch of a light breeze. Liam parked behind the cruiser and got out, his stomach feeling lighter than the rest of his body, the sunshine too bright even through his sunglasses. A young deputy leaned on the hood of the cruiser, and when Liam shut the truck’s door, the man turned toward him and stood, the twin reflective lenses of his shades following Liam’s approach.
“What can I do for you?” the deputy said when Liam was still five steps away.
“I need to speak with the sheriff and agents in charge of the investigation.”
The deputy put up a hand in a halting motion, even though Liam had already stopped. “This is a crime scene, sir. I need you to get back in your vehicle and make an appointment at the department in town.”
“I’m the doctor’s brother,” Liam said.
The deputy dropped his hand, but his posture didn’t change as he continued to study Liam. “I’m very sorry, but this is a secured scene and I can’t let—”
“Could you please let the sheriff know that I’m here and I’d like to speak with him?”
“Sir, I understand you’re upset, but you need to get back—”
“Listen, I’m not going anywhere until you go get your superior officer or the BCA agent I spoke with this morning.” Liam pulled off his sunglasses so that he could stare at the deputy without obstruction. Something in his gaze must have spoken to the younger man, because without another word, the deputy spun, ducked under the string of tape, and walked to the house looming over the other cars in the driveway.
Liam crossed his arms and stared at the sprawling one-level home. Two hand-carved pillars propped up a wide overhang that shaded the front entry from the sun. Several sets of floor-to-ceiling windows glared back at him like corpse eyes, darkly accusing in the bright day. A stall of the attached garage gaped open, revealing what must’ve been his brother’s latest vehicle: a shining black Cadillac Escalade. Or maybe it was Suzie’s. Liam felt his teeth grit together, and he turned to face the dense woods on the left side of the driveway, until he heard the sound of footsteps.
Two men walked toward him, trailed by the deputy. The first was tall and clean-cut, wearing a dark suit with a maroon tie. His face was smooth, with dark hair parted in a precise line on the left side of his head. The other man was shorter and powerfully built; a round belly that carried an extra thirty pounds Liam was sure hadn’t been there in his younger days hung over a duty belt laden with all the tools of law enforcement. The sheriff had nearly white hair and a neatly trimmed mustache of the same color.
The taller man reached Liam first, holding his hand out. “Mr. Dempsey, I’m Senior Special Agent Todd Phelps, this is Sheriff Barnes.” Liam shook hands with both men, the agent’s grip overly strong while the sheriff’s was firm but polite. “I apologize for not answering earlier. We are in the middle of the investigation and I couldn’t—”