Page 31 of The Last Grift
Thursday Morning
“Bowie,get your furry butt back over here. It’s too early for this shit.”
As soon as Casey had opened the gate, Bowie’d rushed past him and disappeared into the brush around the corner of the boatshed.
Ever since a wandering orange menace of a cat had taunted him months ago, he made it a personal mission to check and see if the cat needed chasing off again. Bowie took his job very seriously.
The cat, for its part, seemed to purposefully enjoy provoking Bowie by staying just out of his reach. Casey suspected it was a stray. The damn thing had taken a swipe at him last week when he tried to see if it had a collar. Regardless, and against his better judgment, he’d bought a small bag of dry cat food and was keeping a bowl filled that he left just at the end of theboatshed.
Bowie ignored the command. The sound of a dog rustling in weeds reached Casey’s ears, and he sighed.
“Dog, if you don’t get your ass in the car right this minute, I’m leaving you here.”
Sure, he was—yeah, no. The rescue seemed to have bounced back from being abandoned in an empty but fenced yard when his owners moved out of the state, but Casey wasn’t willing to test him. And there was no reason to leave him behind anyway. Casey had the perfect job, one that allowed him to bring Bowie along for the ride.
“Right this minute,” Casey said sternly.
This time around, Bowie listened and trotted Casey’s direction, doing his best to look innocent and put-upon at the same time.
Opening the Jeep’s back gate, he tapped the mat. “Get in.” Bowie leaped inside. “Good boy.”
Casey had the engine running when a Twana County sheriff’s car pulled off the road, blocking him in. Deputy Deter Nolan was behind the wheel. After the other morning, Casey didn’t feel like dealing with him.
“What the hell now?”
With a sigh, Casey turned off the engine, opened the door, and got back out of the Jeep. Bowie tried to push past him and jump out too.
“As much as I would enjoy letting you have your way with Deputy Nolan, it’s frowned upon.” He shut the door, ignoring Bowie’s whine.
The conversation with the deputy wasn’t going to be a long one, and Casey knew what the topic would be. It had been a week since he’d sent in another request for records, and Sheriff Rizzi had now sent his top toady to tell Casey that once again they wouldn’t be complying.
It was almost as if the Sheriff’s Office had no clue what the Freedom of Information Act meant.
“How’s the boat?” Casey asked.
Nolan didn’t even bother to acknowledge his jab. “What is it with this bullshit request for information again?” he demanded as he exited his cruiser.
Deter Nolan was a little older than Casey and had been on the force about as long as Casey had been a forest ranger. He was average height and intelligence, had some serious anger management issues, and would do anything Sheriff Rizzi asked of him.
“It’s the same information I ask for every year,” Casey said with a patience he didn’t feel. “The complete files on my brother’s case.”
The information that had been shared in the past was incomplete, much of it redacted. There was more, Casey knew it, and he wanted to know what it was. If he could prove evidence had been mishandled or a witness ignored, he might be able to force investigators to reopen his brother’s case. Twenty years had passed since Maya Crane had been murdered and Mickie had been sent to prison for it.
“Nothing has changed,” Deter said flatly, his dark eyes icy with a dash of meanness and spite lingering at the back of them. “There’s no new information, nothing was missed.”
From the beginning, Mickie claimed he was innocent and Casey believed him. Mickie had been—still was—a great older brother. Casey knew in his heart that his half brother hadn’t brutally murdered his girlfriend.
“A lot of time has passed since then. Why would Sheriff Rizzi refuse to let me read the original files? From where I’m standing, it feels suspicious.” Casey leaned his butt on the fender of his Jeep with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “So clarifyfor me, please.” The please almost didn’t sound sarcastic. Almost.
“You’ve been told this many times,” Deter said, his hands on his hips now. “There are ongoing related investigations. They would be compromised.”
Blah, blah, blah. Casey almost rolled his eyes at the attempt to bully and obfuscate.
“Ongoing investigations” was the sheriff’s standard excuse, one that Casey couldn’t fight. But it only convinced Casey that there was something Sheriff Rizzi didn’t want him to learn. He planned to keep filing requests until Rizzi fulfilled them or died.
Mickie didn’t deserve to be in prison and his freedom was up to Casey.
“It’s a bad look for you and your department, Deter. Frankly, it makes me think the TCSO is hiding something.” That earned Casey a sharp intake of breath from Rizzi’s sycophant. Maybe it’d been too much. Fuck, it was too early to deal with someone like Deter. Twice in one week was two times too many.
