Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“If any of these deputies needs my office for privacy, it’s open,” he said.
“You got it, Harry,” Polly replied, wading into the bullpen.
Harry returned to his office to lock his computer screen and put away anything anyone shouldn’t see if his office was needed.
Sean knocked on the door. He had a carefully composed expression on his face that Harry knew was him keeping a lock on losing his mind at what these women had been forced to endure. He also had a woman hovering behind him.
Harry nodded and walked out, closing the door.
His phone vibrated in his hand.
He looked at the screen.
It was Wade.
He took the call.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Did the usual drive-by Farrell’s house, got flagged down by a neighbor. She asked me to check something out. Harry, I need another unit and permission to enter his garage under exigent circumstances.”
Harry walked swiftly toward the back of the station. “What are the circumstances?”
“Something’s dead in there, Harry. I’m standing at the door, and even outside, I can smell it.”
Fuck.
“Wait for me. I’m on my way. We have a situation at the station, everyone here is busy. Call dispatch to send a unit out to you.”
“Got it.”
“Be there soon.”
“Later, Harry.”
He disconnected.
Harry pushed out the back door, jogged to his cruiser, pulled himself in, took the time to text Rus what was going on.
And then he headed to Roy Farrell’s house.
FORTY
I’m Going to Find You
Harry
Harry stood in Roy Farrell’s living room, letting the feeling of dread that had been creeping since he gagged his way through walking up to a very dead Farrell in his car move over him.
The living room was clean. Not just tidy, clean.
Floors vacuumed. No dust on the furniture. Even the fucking pillows were fluffed.
The kitchen, an entirely different story.
Dirty dishes in the sink. A full dishwasher that hadn’t been started. Crumbs and spills on the counter. Coffee forming mold in the coffeemaker.
Same with the bedroom and laundry room.
Unmade bed. Dirty clothes on the floor. Overflowing hampers in the laundry room.
Harry didn’t move even as Rus made his way into the house.
They exchanged a glance, and Harry stayed where he was as Rus conducted his own inspection.
Eventually, Rus came to stand at his side.
“Theresa says carbon monoxide poisoning,” Rus shared.
“She’ll find sedatives in his stomach.”
“She will?”
Harry crouched.
Rus crouched with him.
Harry pointed under the couch. “Karl missed one.”
“Fuck,” Rus said, and Harry knew Rus saw the little blue pill there.
They both straightened.
“Struggle in here,” Rus caught on quick and started to run it down. “Farrell in shit shape, Abernathy got him subdued, forced the pills in him, waited for him to go unconscious, took him out to his car, started it up. Death would seem like suicide, even the sedatives wouldn’t bely that. You find a note?”
“Nope.”
“No note. Man’s got children. He’d explain. Clean in here, the rest of the house is a mess,” Rus kept on. “He swept away prints, DNA, but he wasn’t smart enough to go through the rest of the house. Instead, this is like a neon sign that says, ‘something happened in here.’”
“Theresa notice any bruising that might indicate he was in a struggle?” Harry asked.
“She didn’t say. But she was just strapping him to the gurney when I arrived. She’ll find out more when she gets him on her table.”
Harry stared at a living room that was far less attractive than the one his mom and dad left him and Winnie, even if it was less dated.
Roy Farrell had cheated on his wife repeatedly. She kept taking him back. Until she couldn’t hack it anymore.
She left, taking the kids with her.
Through water cooler talk, Harry knew Farrell fought for full custody, just to be an asshole, and bitched about it constantly, because attorneys cost a fortune.
In the end, they shared custody, and that was all Harry knew about it, especially the last nearly four years when Farrell had been out of the department.
Then again, there were two kids’ rooms in that house, and it didn’t look like they’d been touched in years. Doing the mental math, his son was close to graduation, his daughter also in high school, and both rooms were still little kids’ rooms no teenager would be caught dead in.
It didn’t take an investigator’s power of deduction to theorize that the kids were about as fond of their dad being a cheating loser as their mother was. They got older, they found ways to stay away from him.
Farrell ended his life working security at Box and Save, MP’s big box store. He was head of it, but it had to be a pay cut. It was definitely a status drop.
Could be, he just couldn’t afford to feed three mouths when he was so intent to stuff so much into one.
“You have a look at those bank statements?” Rus asked.
Harry turned to him. “Abernathy’s?”