Page 64 of Home Town Knight

“Stillwater gives these coins to its members and clients,” I explained. “They’re 22-carat gold, with unique markings that tie the particular coin to the person who owns it. At least that’s what my hacker source told me. He showed me a photo of one. Same ancient ship engraved on the side, same words.”

“I thought this Stillwater group didn’t want to be noticed. These fancy coins are bound to get attention.”

“Think about it though. The group exists entirely on the dark web, doing its business in secret. Everyone’s anonymous. But the deals they make, the people they connect, are in the real world. They need a way to identify who is a real member. If someone has one of these coins, plus the corresponding motto, it proves his or her connection to Stillwater. The markings on the coins serve as authentication. A secret handshake.”

“Like a challenge coin.”

“In a way, yes.” I hadn’t thought about that comparison before, but it was apt.

Challenge coins were an honored tradition among police officers that harkened back to the military. Like my dad’s prized coin that he’d received for bravery, and Owen’s collection in his office. Challenge coins had once been a way for a soldier to prove his membership in a particular unit.

Stillwater’s version was a sick bastardization of that tradition. Yet it served a similar purpose.

“To an outsider,” I said, “it would just look like a collector’s item. Only the initiated would know its real meaning.”

“This is starting to sound like secret society stuff. Real cloak and dagger.”

“I guess it is.”

Suddenly, Owen’s eyes widened and his skin paled. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “I may have seen one of these coins before. In Dawson Witkins’ office when we raided his cult compound late last year. The feds would’ve taken it into evidence. They handled the prosecution of the cult leaders for trafficking. Probably had no idea what it really was. I certainly didn’t.”

“What about the coin from Ace Tucker’s hotel? Is it in your evidence room? If it is, we have to keep it secure.”

Owen nodded. “And we have to find out what it meant that Tucker had one.” He took his keys from his belt. “Come on.” He led me down the hall to a door made of metal grating. Owen unlocked it and slid back the grate. “Stay here. I’ll go in. Nobody but personnel allowed.”

I had no doubt there was a camera on this room. He was allowing me to consult, but he didn’t want to do anything to taint his evidence.

Owen went into the space, which was lined with shelves with large bins. He found the one for the Tucker case, then brought it out, relocking the door behind him as he left.

We returned to the conference room. There, he took out the inventory log. Together, we scanned the list of items. Nothing matched the description of a gold coin.

“Dammit,” Owen muttered. “This can’t be right. It has to be here.” He searched through the bin. But finally, he looked up and shook his head.

“It’s missing?”

“It wasn’t even entered into the log.”

“But it was photographed just yesterday inside the hotel room. Who signed the log and transferred the evidence to the station?”

His expression hardened. “Deputy Marsh.”

“I swear to you, boss. I have never seen that coin before in my life.”

We were back in Owen’s office. He’d called Keira Marsh in and had tossed his phone in front of her, the picture of the gold Stillwater coin on its screen like an accusation. But if Keira had anything to do with the coin’s disappearance, then she was an extremely skilled liar. I hadn’t seen any recognition in her eyes when she’d looked at the image. Nor any hint of guilt when Owen had told her the evidence was missing from the lockup.

“But you signed the chain of custody.”

“I can’t explain it, Owen. All I can tell you is that I didn’t see this coin in the hotel room when I was collecting the other evidence.”

He exhaled, tapping his finger against his lip. It was obvious he didn’t want to believe Keira had anything to do with it either. “All right. So at some point after the tech photographed the room, and before you went in to bag theevidence, this coin vanished. Who else was in Tucker’s room? Who had access?”

“There were a few of us executing the search warrants. We were going from room to room, and…” She glanced up, eyes widening. “Rossiter and Sykes were standing guard over the victim’s room before I went in.”

Owen cursed under his breath.

“Rossiter and Sykes?” I asked. “Are those the state troopers who were being assholes to me after they arrived at the scene of the murder?” They’d acted like I was a suspect instead of an eyewitness, demanding access to my phone and challenging why I was there.

“Yes,” Owen said. “They also stomped all over the ground near the victim’s body, potentially screwing up the forensics. Now this. I want to know where Rossiter and Sykes are right now. Better yet, I’d like to know where they’ve been since they left the Alpine Hotel yesterday.”

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