CHAPTER 3

Thursday morning dawned hot and humid and Matt was up and gone by 6:30 after deciding to shave for the first time in over a year; the Texas heat and the beard were not a good combination. Stopping for a cup of coffee on the way to the hospital he thought about what they had to work with on both cases, unable to lose the feeling that they might be connected. He found Lisa, Sheila, Miss Charlotte, and Chuck's great-uncle Ferris in the waiting room. Former Ranger Ferris was the first to see him and a smile crossed his face. "Now that's the face I remember right there – no fuzz." He stood and shook with the man.

"Wow! I haven't seen that look in quite a while." Sheila gave him a big smile.

"Kinda got warm under there yesterday." Matt gave a grin then turned to Miss Charlotte and Lisa. "How's he doing this morning?"

"Pretty good. He seemed to rest good last night. They've got him scheduled for surgery at ten o'clock." Although she looked tired, the cop's wife appeared immensely relieved. "Have you heard anything else?"

Shaking his head the detective took a sip of the coffee. "Not yet – I'm on my way there. Had CJ doing some checking for me last night and I'm going to sift through that and whatever the lab might have." He saw the look of disappointment on her face. "I'm gonna get whoever the bastard is that did this – don't worry." The low tone of his voice and the angry look in his eye were unmistakable. Looking at his watch he started to leave. "Oh, and when he wakes up – tell him I said his youngest is a bed hog." The grin he gave them as he looked back over his shoulder caused the group to crack up.

"Somebody's in for an ass-whoopin'." Ferris sat back down as Charlotte tried to shush him. "I'm not gonna be quiet: it's the truth. Those two have been tight as kernels of corn on a cob for over thirty years. I can guarantee you it'll happen."

As he pulled into the lot at the department, the detective looked over to where Chuck's personal vehicle was still parked and an idea came to him. Removing his phone from his shirt pocket he dialed Lisa's number. "Hey, I know you've got Chuck's keys there, but would you have a problem if I looked around in his truck – see if anything might give me some ideas?"

"Of course not. Want me to bring them over?"

"I can get in without 'em – just wanted to be sure you were okay with it."

"Okay...uh, well yeah, go ahead."

"See ya." Sliding out of his own truck he flipped through some information on his phone, pressed a button and the door locks disengaged.

"Got the keys?" Francine Martinez's voice came over his shoulder.

"No ma'am – but I did get Lisa's okay." He slipped on a pair of gloves and began looking through the truck, first under the seats where he found a collection of candy wrappers and small toys, then he slid inside and looked on the visor finding only the usual items that he expected. Next was the console where he found a supply of notebooks that the detective used in his job. All were new and unused, and other than napkins, gloves, shoe covers, pens, and several rolls of breath mints there was nothing else. Stopping when he got to the mints, Martinez caught a look on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing...just thinking back to the first case I helped y'all with...Chuck didn't know about the breath mint trick to help with the decomp smell."

"And you told him." She smiled.

"Yep. I just came from the hospital." Filling her in he reached over and found the glove box locked. He pulled out a small multi-tool from his pocket, quickly opened the lock with a small screwdriver, and took a look through the usual maps, registration, and insurance papers.

"That's some good news. Ever considered a career as a car thief?"

"Think I would tell you if I did?" He gave her a crooked grin and popped the hatch, sliding down from the cab and going to the back along with the sheriff but finding nothing out of the ordinary. "Well..." Closing everything back up he made sure it was secured. "I didn't really expect to find anything but at least now we know." The pair walked inside and down to the squad room where he took a seat at the desk and looked through the couple of messages that were there, the first from Michelle Rodolfo. Picking up the phone he dialed her extension and stared across at his friend's desk. "Hey there – it's Houston; did you find anything?"

"Let's see here..." Up in the lab she pulled up the file on Charles Nighthawk. "The ME is scheduled to handle Nighthawk's autopsy at 9:00 but they say that the apparent cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head. Looks to be a .22. The baling twine can be picked up practically anywhere around here and there were no epithelials found other than the victim's. Evidently he was in his work clothing: there were traces of hops on the shirt but that's about all we've got on him. How's Chuck?"

Matt informed her. "What about the trail cams?"

"I'm about to run them. Let you know if I find anything on 'em."

He thanked her for her help, hanging up the phone and passing along the information to Martinez as he accessed the information he had gathered on Nighthawk and sent it to CJ, finding as he did so that she had left him some information on two of the employees at Moonshot Brewers. The first was Lonnie James Beidermier, one of the brewers at the plant who had a record of assaulting an employee at his last place of employment; the other was Renee Walters, a secretary who had a class C misdemeanor on her record for shoplifting some years earlier.

The phone on his desk rang and Chris Eversong was on the other end, the first words out of his mouth were, "How's he doing?" Once again Matt gave the good news.

"Have you got anything there?"

"All the prints came back to Chuck like I said last night. The dent is proving to be interesting, though."

"I'm putting you on speaker so the sheriff can hear – don't cuss." He punched the button. "Go ahead."

"I was saying the dent is interesting. There's some kind of pattern on whatever it was that was used. I've sent a picture of it to your email." He waited as the detective found the message and opened it, Martinez coming around the desk and looking as well.

"Kinda looks like the grips on a ratchet or something to me." Houston looked up at the sheriff who nodded her agreement. "Did you check to see if there was any transfer?"

"That's running right now. Other than that – I don't have anything for you."

"I appreciate the help, bud. Talk to you later." Hanging up he blew up the picture and stared at it for a minute. "We need to get a look at the pictures that were made of Chuck's head last night at the ER. Who handled that?"

"One of the techs in the ER – they automatically do it when someone comes in with a wound like that. I'll call over there." She sat down behind Chuck's desk and began dialing as Houston went to the coffee pot to refill his cup, taking the opportunity to call CJ and update her on their friend's condition. He had barely had time to kiss her goodbye that morning what with all the extra kids running through the house. Madre Rosa was in her element and happier than Matt could remember seeing her in a long time; she absolutely loved kids. Pouring another cup for the sheriff he went back to the cubicle as she was in the middle of a none-too-pleasant discussion with someone on the other end of the line. "I want those pictures found now: they're valuable evidence." With that she hung up, a flash of anger in her eyes. "They can't find them!"

Handing her the cup he leaned against the front of his own desk, thinking quietly as he sipped, the feeling of the Nighthawk case and Chuck's being connected taking a screeching turn in a new direction in his mind. Very quietly he spoke. "Do you think Oglesby could have anything to do with it?"

"He was already on suspension." She watched as he worked through the thought. "But..." Leaning back in the chair she took a sip. "It does seem kind of odd that evidence suddenly turns up missing right after I lowered the boom on him."

"Not to tell you your business...but he needs to be banned from the building and his log in information to the system needs to be locked down."

"You're right." She made a call to the IT division. After hanging up she shook her head. "I've never had to deal with anything quite like this before."

"I'm surprised you haven't already locked horns with him. The first day I saw him was when I was working the Dietrich murder/arsons and he was none too complimentary about either of us. I seriously doubt if he knew me from Adam, but since you were his boss..." Walking around behind the desk he sat down and propped his feet, a grimace coming across his face until he sat up and popped his back. "It just seemed stupid. I mean anybody can dislike their boss – but to make a point of it openly just lacked good judgment."

"It may come as a surprise to you..." She smirked. "...but some men just don't like working for a woman."

"No, I believe I've heard that sentiment before." Stopping, he popped his back again and leaned back with a sigh.

"What's with the back?"

He shrugged. "Kinda gets out of whack since the bomb blast in the parking garage of my office – got slammed into the railing of the elevator and it needs a little help getting home sometimes. Anyway..." He took a sip. "...like I put in the report yesterday he made a comment about my qualifications as well as yours. Now since he doesn't really know me and most likely hasn't done any research on me, that's not unusual. For some reason folks just don't get that I was in Army Intelligence: my training was done on the federal level. Granted, I didn't sit for a sergeant's exam here – maybe that's what he's pissed about..." After the words left his mouth he grabbed the keyboard in front of him and began working it. "Hmmm...can you get into his personnel file?" Matt knew that with a few minutes time he could have accessed the records himself but thought it was better not to let the boss know that fact.

"I am the sheriff..." She picked up Chuck's keyboard and retrieved the information as the cowboy walked over to join her.

"Well, looky there, the little lady can type...can you make coffee and take dictation, too?" He received an elbow to the gut as he chuckled. "Let's see here...Gregory Allen Oglesby, age 48, divorced twice...not surprising...worked on patrol for sixteen years before making sergeant. Attended classes at a local college to move to a job with CSI...not exactly tops in his class."

"He was promoted by the previous sheriff." She gave a discontented expression.

"I never had any dealings with him directly...but there were some of his folks on the Cody payroll back a few years ago." As he moved back over to lean on the front of his desk, Matt thought back to the death of his biological father Wade Mattlock at the hands of an impostor that Elgin Cody had brought in to swindle him out of some land that he had set aside for a wildlife preserve.

"He..." Francine paused and looked around. "He was a member of the good ole boys club. Not that that's always a bad thing really, but in this case it was. Quite a few things got taken care of – swept under the rug on his watch. There were a couple of DUI's that I know of for sure and an assault. I swore that the county deserved better – that's why I decided to run for office. There are a lot of people out there who don't like me; my first day on the job I started cleaning house." She tapped her finger on the desk. "There were three detective's in this office alone that I terminated. That's when Chuck got promoted." Looking at the man's desk where she sat her eyes landed on a picture of his family that he kept there. "I had met him a year or so before – and he was dedicated - went out of his way to help people." Looking across at Houston she saw the serious look on his face. "He didn't know it, but I overheard him one day at the cafe up the street." Smiling she thought back. "He was talking about you and how you helped people with your detective agency – said that's what he wanted to do."

Houston looked down at his hands. "I'm not helping him much by standing around here..." He started pacing and thinking over the case...or was it cases? They still didn't know for sure. "Until we can get those pictures from the hospital and compare them we're not going to get too far with the weapon used on Chuck." He looked at his watch. "I'm gonna go to Nighthawk's autopsy later. Maybe something will shake loose." He turned toward the chair and then stopped. "What about Joe Sparks? Have you seen him?"

"No...and he should have a report for me." She punched the keyboard. "Nothing..." She pulled out her phone and dialed his number, but didn't receive an answer.

"Nothing?"

"No..." She hung up and made another phone call to dispatch. "Have we had any contact with Detective Sparks today?" Shaking her head she stood up, a grim look on her face. "What about the GPS locator on his car?" She snatched up a notepad off of the desk and began writing. "Thanks. No, I'm going to check it out myself." The pair started for the door. "His vehicle is at his home – Main and 13th in Galena Park."

Loading up in Martinez's SUV, they headed east on I-10 and then south on Mercury Drive, following until it turned into Main Street in Galena Park. The house, though an older one, was in great condition with a white picket fence surrounding a small but well-maintained yard. "Is he married?" Houston slid from the vehicle first walking over to the department car that the long-time detective drove; the hood was cool.

"Widower." Martinez opened the gate and the pair headed to the front door stopping as they saw that the screen door as well as the wooden door were both slightly ajar. Both removed their weapons, Matt taking the left side of the door and easing it open with the toe of his boot. The sheriff spoke up. "Joe? It's Francine. You okay in there?" No response was heard. She nodded at Houston and both quickly slipped on gloves before going any further. Opening the screen door, the cowboy pointed out that the spring mechanism was detached and hanging, allowing the door to completely open back against the front of the house. He then eased the wooden door open and entered, noticing that it was dark inside except for a light in the kitchen. Both cops pulled flashlights out of the backs of their utility belts and began clearing the house.

"He's in here..." Houston had just cleared the den and then started on the kitchen where the detective was on his left side on the floor. Feeling for a pulse he shook his head as Martinez entered the room; he saw her expression change from worry to sorrow.

"No..." Holstering her pistol she moved closer.

"I don't see a mark on him anywhere." Matt looked over the man who appeared to have been getting a drink of water, a glass and puddle of water on the floor.

Silently, a tear slipped down her cheek as she knelt down next to him. "No..." Reaching out she shook his shoulder.

"He's gone; has been for quite a while." He eased her back to her feet. The pair walked out of the house and to the small parking area, Martinez leaning her head against the frame of the SUV while Houston called in for CSI and the Coroner's Office. Hanging up he put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Turning to look at the house she wiped away tears, quickly looking around. "I can't let anybody see me like this."

"Get in." He opened the passenger side door and helped her in, leaning against the door frame. "I take it you two knew each other well?"

"Yeah..." She cleared her throat. "Joe was my FTO when I came on board." Smiling she thought back. "He wasn't overly thrilled with having a female partner." Giving a small laugh she removed the gloves and wiped at her eyes again. "When I was done with my training he apologized for being so hard on me and said that I had changed his mind about women in the department. He was the first one who suggested that I run for Sheriff and worked hard on the campaign."

"And that's why you don't want anyone to see you crying...because you're a woman." He watched as she nodded.

"It isn't like it used to be but there are still people out there – men and women alike – who think that we shouldn't show any emotion at all."

"Guess I shot that all to hell last night." He looked around. "I understand better than you think I do – I'm married to a lady lawyer. Some of the remarks that still get made these days about women just..." Shaking his head he looked back up at her. "She's tougher than a lot of men that I know – she had to be growing up."

"I tried to promote him to lieutenant after I was elected – but he didn't want any part of it. Said he was perfectly happy just like he was and didn't want it to change."

Houston's phone rang. "Chris, what's up?"

"I just got the call to Joe's house." There was obvious upset in his voice. "Is he really dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Damn..."

"I don't see a mark on him."

"I swear if somebody hurt him..."

"Easy, bud. One thing at a time. It doesn't look like that at all." He walked toward the curb where the garbage can was sitting awaiting pickup. Next to it was the box for the large TV that the detective had seen in the den. "Look, I'm gonna go back in and take a look around some more."

"Be there in about five minutes." The tech hung up, cursing under his breath.

"Will you be okay out here?" Houston looked at Martinez who had blown her nose and was now sliding out of the vehicle.

"I'm gonna go back in..."

"Why don't you try talking to the neighbors?" He motioned to the house next door where a curtain was moving.

"Okay." She nodded and pulled a notebook out of the console and approached the front door that was opened before she reached the step, the elderly lady asking about her neighbor and bursting into tears when she heard the news.

Back inside, Matt began looking around. Joe Sparks had been a cop for going on thirty years. Photo after photo on the walls of the house documented his time with the department. Stopping in front of one in particular the cowboy smiled. It was a picture of Sparks, Martinez, and four other officers at a bar, all toasting the camera. Walking into the kitchen he found a receipt on the table from WaldoMart dated the night before. Joe had checked out at about midnight with the TV. Wandering back into the den he looked over the sixty inch screen, thinking to himself that it was quite a bit for one person to handle by themselves, but given the late hour, he probably hadn't had anyone that he could ask for help with it. The cowboy had a feeling that Joe's death had been natural. He had been about sixty years old. Nothing seemed out of place in the house and he went back outside as Eversong pulled up. "Chris, I think maybe he had a heart attack."

The tech was visibly shaken. "Bad as it sounds I hope that's what it was."

"Better than somebody hurting him." Motioning to the TV packaging he nodded toward the house. "He got the TV last night; the spring on the door is disengaged so it would stand open. Bet he overdid it trying to get it in there by himself."

Shaking his head, Eversong made his way inside as the detective's phone rang. "Yeah, Michelle?"

"Please tell me it isn't true..." There was no mistaking the tears on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, it is. But I think it was natural."

"Oh, God. And he was by himself." She swiped at tears and blew her nose. "I, uh...sorry." Blowing again she came back on the line. "I ran the SD cards from the trail cams – we've got somebody besides Devereux on there; it might be our killer."

Looking at his watch Houston tried to decide what to do; he was pretty sure that Sparks death wasn't anything other than natural and knew how upset Martinez was but he also knew that they had other work to do. He looked up to find the sheriff approaching him. "Can you hang on a minute, hon?"

"Sure." Michelle blew her nose again and walked into her office, sitting down behind the desk and taking a sip of coffee as she listened to him talking to someone else, then heard the sheriff tell him to go ahead.

"I'll be back there quick as I can. Thanks." Houston hung up as the van from the Coroner's Office pulled up.

"We'll get the keys to Joe's patrol car...you can take it back to the station for him." Martinez tried to give him a smile. "He liked you, you know. Said he couldn't believe it when he found out you weren't going to go pro."

"Lot of folks were surprised." He followed the others back inside and took the keys.

"I've called the motor pool – there's an SUV waiting for you. Just drop this one off to them and take that."

"Yes ma'am." Going back outside he slid behind the wheel, adjusting the seat back a couple of notches before starting the engine and heading back to the department. As he drove along he thought about Vince and Michael; both men had spent years being stressed out by multiple cases at one time and had commented that he was lucky to be able to pick and choose what he wanted to work on. That was no longer a luxury for him.