Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Yes, please have a seat.” Detective Robertson gestured to the chair next to him.
Officer Jackson threw him a quick smile and settled into the chair, her posture tense. “Agents Snow. Smudgeon.”
Detective Robertson nodded. “Jillian here is working on becoming a detective, so I asked her to help with this case. She conducted the initial interview with you both.”
“That’s fine,” Walter said. “Now, could you please tell me how my brother died? I understand it was on a highway. Was he running from somebody? What happened? Did somebody hit him on purpose?”
Detective Robertson glanced at Officer Jackson, who seemed prepared to answer. “It looks like he fell off Frostline Peak,” she said, her tone even.
Walter’s eyebrows drew together. “Excuse me?”
Officer Jackson pressed her lips together before continuing. “We have several witnesses who were driving along the river road. I’m so sorry, but Tyler’s body hit the road directly in front of them. At least two cars swerved to avoid hitting him, and another managed to brake just in time. One car ended up in a ditch. The driver called 911, and we’ve taken statements from all of them.”
Laurel tracked the way Officer Jackson’s fingers tightened around her notepad.
The officer’s gaze flicked down and then back up to Walter. “Do you know if your brother was suicidal?”
“No. Not a chance,” Walter snapped. “Tyler was obsessed with his investigations and theories. He was paranoid and restless, but he wasn’t suicidal.”
Detective Robertson maintained his neutral expression, though his focus on Walter sharpened. “You haven’t spoken to him in three years.” His voice remained calm, but the challenge threaded through it all the same.
“Maybe not, but I still knew the kid,” Walter said. “He lived for his conspiracy theories. He wouldn’t kill himself. Have you been up to the site?”
“Not yet.” Detective Robertson’s shoulders sagged slightly before he straightened. “The rain made the terrain nearly impossible to navigate, and we still don’t know where he fell from. Frostline Peak isn’t a single cliff; it’s a series of ridges, ledges, and drop-offs. Without a clear point of origin, we’re working blind.”
Walter’s jaw tightened. “Then you need to find out.”
“We plan to. The problem is how extensive the area is. If we can’t narrow down a location soon, we’ll likely need to call in help from the state to conduct a proper search of the mountain and to look for Tyler’s car.” Detective Robertson paused, his eyes on Walter. “I understand your frustration. We’re working as quickly as we can, but we’re limited by the conditions and the lack of obvious evidence.”
“Maybe somebody threw Tyler off one of those cliffs.” Walter’s voice dropped.
“That’s a possibility,” Detective Robertson acknowledged. “The coroner has your brother’s body now. They identified him through fingerprints, but the autopsy isn’t finished yet.”
“How far has the coroner gotten?” Laurel asked.
Detective Robertson turned his attention to her. “Dr. Ortega only just began. The rain delayed recovery, and he’s still working on the preliminary assessment. I know you want answers, but we don’t have them yet.”
At least the county coroner was the best Laurel had ever worked with. Dr. Ortega’s meticulousness bordered on obsession, but that obsession translated to results. If Tyler had any other injuries beyond the obvious ones from the fall, Dr. Ortega would find them.
“Do you know what Tyler was working on recently?” Laurel asked.
The detective’s mouth lifted in a smile that revealed twin dimples. “This is my case, Agent Snow. I’ll ask the questions.” He didn’t wait for a response before shifting his attention to Walter. “Do you have any idea what investigations your brother was undertaking?”
“Not a damn thing,” Walter said. “I listened to his podcast a few times, but it’s been a while.”
“What do you know about Sandra Plankton?” Detective Robertson asked.
Walter glanced at Laurel, his gaze sharp. “Nothing. She had my number, called me, and we showed up. Found the place trashed. Why? What do you know about her?”
“Ms. Plankton has been arrested multiple times for protesting,” Officer Jackson said before Detective Robertson could respond. “And for vandalism and arson. She’s a dangerous woman.”
Laurel cataloged the statement, her thoughts shifting through her brief interactions with Sandra Plankton. The woman had seemed genuinely concerned about Tyler.
“Tell us more about her,” Walter said.
“I don’t think so,” Detective Robertson cut in smoothly. “This is our case. You are witnesses only.” He sat back and folded his hands on the table. “In fact, I didn’t ask for your appearance here, Agent Snow.”
“I’m aware of that,” Laurel said. “But as Agent Smudgeon’s direct supervisor, I intend to be present for any questioning.”
Officer Jackson leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “You want to take the case away from us?”
“I would if I could,” Laurel said. Walter needed answers, and she intended to help find them. “If we find there’s any chance for federal jurisdiction, I’ll take the case.”