Page 35 of Outlaw Ridge: Jesse
“Sending both Hallie and you an age progression mockup of what Reggie might look like today.”
Hell in a big-assed handbasket. Jesse didn’t want Lauren to have to deal with this now, but Lauren didn’t give him a choice. “I want to see it,” she said, tapping his phone so that the image appeared on the screen.
And there it was.
The mockup had aged Reggie Lincoln from the cocky, camo-clad young man in the newspaper photo to what he might look like now—a forty-two-year-old man with harder features, deeperlines around his mouth, and eyes that seemed even colder. His once-boyish face had sharpened, his jaw now heavier with stubble. His hair, which had been buzzed short in the old photo, was now longer, streaked with gray at the temples.
Lauren’s fingers tightened on the edge of Jesse’s phone, knuckles going white. “It’s him,” she murmured, almost to herself. “God, Jesse, if he’s still out there—”
Jesse covered her hand with his, steadying her. “We don’t know that yet.”
But the thought was a punch to the gut. If Reggie had survived, if he’d been out there this whole time, what had he been doing for the past sixteen years? And why the hell had he stayed quiet?
Jesse pulled the cruiser into the station parking lot and eased to a stop. Hallie’s cruiser rolled in right behind him, coming to a halt in her reserved space. He glanced over at Lauren, ready to ask her if she needed a couple of minutes to steady herself, but he didn’t get the chance. She got out of the cruiser.
Hallie, Reardon, and Belinda climbed out, too, and Jesse saw that Reardon’s face was stone-cold. Belinda, however, still looked pale and shaken, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to hold it together.
Hallie glanced at Lauren. Then, Jesse, and he saw the question in her eyes. Well, one of them anyway.
“Lauren and I saw the mockup Griff sent,” Jesse said, choosing his words so not to give away something to Reardon and Belinda in case Hallie hadn’t shown the picture to them.
Hallie nodded. “They saw it, too.” She tipped her head to Reardon and Belinda. “They say they haven’t seen him.”
“We haven’t,” Reardon was quick to say.
Hallie didn’t give any kind of signal that she was one hundred percent convinced of that as they went into the station.Once the bullpen was in sight, Hallie pointed to one of the deputies before turning her attention back to Reardon and Belinda.
“I want you two to give Deputy Jemma Salvetti your statements about the empty grave,” Hallie said to them. “We need it on record.”
Belinda nodded. “Of course.”
Reardon, though, let out a sharp breath and shook his head. “We’ll give a statement about that, but we’re not answering any questions about this investigation until our lawyer gets here.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jesse wasn’t surprised. The guy had been on edge since they’d brought up his connection to Reggie. He didn’t trust Reardon, but he’d dealt with enough suspects to recognize when someone was trying to lawyer up before they talked themselves into a deeper hole.
Maybe that’s what Reardon was doing.
Then again, he could be innocent, and the anger and emotion was a reaction to the obvious hell his wife was going through.
Belinda shifted her attention to Lauren. “If Reggie’s truly alive,” she said with her voice breaking, “why hasn’t he come after me? After you?”
It was the same thing Jesse had asked himself just minutes earlier. And now that question hung heavy in the air. Jesse saw the way Lauren stiffened, but before she could answer, Hallie spoke up.
“Maybe that means Reggie really is dead,” Hallie said. “If he somehow managed to crawl out of that grave, maybe he died somewhere else in the woods.”
Jesse exchanged a glance with Lauren. It was a logical theory, sure, but it didn’t feel right. He didn’t have a lot of timeto think about it though because he heard the familiar voice call out.
“Sheriff, Deputies,” Dr. Graves called, his tone smooth but laced with curiosity. “Where have you been? And why is Reardon here?”
All of them slowed to a stop as Graves approached. The psychologist was flanked by a lawyer in a crisp navy suit, his expression unreadable.
Hallie didn’t answer right away. She didn’t have to. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Jesse didn’t miss the way Reardon and Graves locked eyes—like two men standing on opposite sides of a battlefield, waiting to see who would make the first move.
“Funny,” Reardon said, his voice like gravel. “I was about to ask the same thing. What exactly are you doing here,Dr. Graves?” He said the man’s title as if it were something vile and disgusting.
Graves’ mouth twitched. “I’m cooperating with the investigation. Something you might want to consider doing yourself. Judging from your obstinate expression, I gather cooperation isn’t your strong suit. Neither is sound reasoning if you’re continuing to claim I’m the bad guy in all of this.”
Reardon let out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s coming from the asshole who’s been pointing fingers at me since day one.”
