Free Wedding Day of Murder by Vanessa Gray Bartal

was the first person on the scene; no one had to know about the
pictures of Lacy. Her name didn’t have to be mentioned. What was the point,
anyway? Jason knew she wasn’t the murderer. For a moment, he let himself
believe that he would do it. The vision of himself ripping down the pictures
and tossing them away relieved a little of his pressing anxiety. He wouldn’t do
it, though. He couldn’t stomach bad cops. Even though he knew Lacy wasn’t
guilty, destroying evidence was wrong; it went against everything he believed.
He would include the photos and have faith that the system would work as it
should. The truth would out, and Lacy would be off the hook.
    Besides, even though she wasn’t the
killer, she was still somehow involved in this case. Why else was her picture
plastered on a dead man’s wall? That question disturbed him more that the
thought of her being falsely accused. What was going on?
    He stood and took pictures of the
wall to preserve the scene as he’d found it. He snapped a half dozen pictures
of each room in the camper, pulling out drawers and opening cupboards to show
their contents, and then he removed the pictures and bagged them, marking them
with the date and time for evidence. When that was finished, he drove back to
the office. The protesters sat in the lobby singing Simon and Garfunkel songs,
led by the intrepid, dread-locked female. Her voice rose loudest among those
assembled, off-key and singing almost all the wrong words. Jason refrained from
telling her that it wasn’t, “a Pikachu, Mrs. Robinson,” just like he refrained
from requesting the “Sound of Silence.” He eased past them, ignoring them when
they snorted and squealed. He locked his gun in his desk drawer, deposited the
pictures in the evidence room, and went to find Arroyo.
    He found him in the break room,
shooting the breeze with the mayor whose feet were propped casually on a table.
Jason stopped short in the entryway, disconcerted by the scene. It wasn’t just
that the mayor had no jurisdiction here. He was in charge of the town, but the
sheriff’s office covered the entire county. No, the off-putting feeling came
more from the conspiratorial air between the two men. The mayor caught sight of
Jason and dropped his feet. Arroyo saw him and stood upright.
    “Find anything?” Arroyo asked.
    “It’ll be in my report,” Jason
said, making the snap decision not to draw the pictures to their attention. Just
because he had to come clean over their existence didn’t mean he had to do it
now. To put such information out there now might lead them down a wrong trail.
Jason wanted to make sure they were on the right scent before he released the
hounds.
    “I guess I’d better get going,” the
mayor said. “I trust you boys will keep me informed of any developments.” He
left without waiting for a goodbye. Jason waited until he was gone to speak.
    “What was that about?”
    Arroyo gave him the look, the one
that said he was the senior officer and Jason’s impertinence bordered on
insubordination. Jason didn’t back down. The mayor was shady, as Jason learned
when he set some thugs after Lacy awhile back. He didn’t want to share
information with a man he didn’t trust. At last, Arroyo smiled and leaned
against the table again. “Ah, you know the mayor. Anytime the breeze is
blowing, his gums are flapping. He likes to think he has a hand in what goes on
here, and the sheriff allows it so long as he doesn’t actually interfere. Politics.”
    “Hmm,” Jason said, not sure he was
convinced.
    “Anyway, I need you to help with
the interviews. We’ve been saving the best for last.”
    Uh-oh. Arroyo’s gleeful tone didn’t
bode well. If there was one universal code among cops, it was to always make the
younger guy suffer as much as possible. They didn’t have much in the way of job
perks, but seniority was one. The greatest day in Jason’s career occurred when
he attained enough seniority to make a rookie clean up