Free Crazytown (The Darren Lockhart Mysteries) by Jon Grilz

do in this case.”
    “You mean the killer of your fiancée’s little brother? Your involvement jeopardizes this investigation. Any evidence obtained by you will be promptly thrown out by any lawyer who’s worth a damn because of your relationship with the family.”
    “Maybe…if it gets to court.”
    Lockhart didn’t want to guess what he meant by placing such emphasis on the “if,” but he didn’t have to think too hard to figure it out.
    “I mean,” the deputy continued, “sometimes these guys run or shoot at cops, right? If he died, there wouldn’t be any need for evidence, right. Just sayin’.”
    “That was the wrong answer, Deputy,” Lockhart said. “As of this moment, you will no longer be involved in this investigation in any capacity. Understood?”
    The deputy leapt from his chair and circled around the desk to stare Lockhart sternly in the face. His eyes burned with intensity. The man was a clenched fist. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    The chief stood up as well and did his best to move between the deputy and Lockhart, but the two men were so close together that all he could manage was to make it look like he could stop the situation from escalating any further.
    “You are of no use in finding evidence or interviewing witnesses. I’ve personally experienced that inflated temper of yours—over some mushrooms of all things—and you just implied a willingness and maybe even an intention to kill anyone you suspect to be involved in Michael Weber’s death.”
    “Mikey,” the deputy corrected. “No one calls… called him Michael. And do you really think yanking me off this case will help your chances? Do you know how many square miles Chippewa Forest is? Do you know anyone in this town? How many of these people trust you anyway? You think they’re really going to tell the feds anything?”
    The deputy had made some valid points, things Lockhart already realized, but he was wrestling with the deputy’s involvement versus investigating the crime with just himself and Donaldson. Calling in additional federal agents to be active in the investigation would most likely cause a shift in any cooperation from the town, and if the killer was still around, it would no doubt provoke him to run—not to mention the fact that it was Assistant Director Chalmers’s prerogative to make the case as low-profile as possible.
    Lockhart chewed his lip as he thought. “So be it, but you have no official capacity here. You are not to interview potential witnesses alone or handle any evidence. Any evidence found will be attributed to Chief Donaldson. If I find you are doing any investigation that I’m not made aware of, I’ll arrest you on the spot. If you make any attempt to approach a suspect on your own, I’ll arrest you place federal charges against you, deputy or not. Do you understand?”
    The deputy made no sign of hiding his contempt, but he nodded his acknowledgment.
    Lockhart shook his head. “That’s not good enough, Deputy. Tell me in your own words that you understand these warnings, under penalty of federal prosecution.”
    “I understand, under penalty of federal prosecution.” The way the deputy said it sounded an awful lot like he said “persecution” instead of “prosecution”, but Lockhart accepted it anyway.
    “Now, if you want to help, you can tell me where you’re fiancée is.”
    “She doesn’t know anything,” the deputy replied rather defiantly. 
    Lockhart shook his head again, his eyes closed in utter frustration. “See? There you go again. That would fall under refusing to cooperate with a federal investigation. She wasn’t at her parent’s house when we went there, so where is she?”
    The deputy gritted his teeth. “She’s at my house. She’s been there since she heard about Mikey.”
    “Fine. Then you drive.”
    The three men sat in silence as Deputy Lind drove to his house, which was only a mile or so from the police station, set back amongst a