Page 53 of Breaking Conviction
A low whirring before a loud thump resounded from the room and he heard the doctor repeat herself. But the long drawn-out tone persisted in the silence. After what seemed like an eternity, the beeping stopped and the silence slammed into him before the doctor’s voice rang out.
“Time of death. Nine thirteen.”
Wes closed his eyes and sagged against the wall. He took his glasses off and massaged his eyes as Marco started yelling at the doctors and local cops he worked with every day.
“No one fucking touch that body, do you hear me?”
“Excuse me?” the doctor who’d called out the time of death scoffed. “Who the hell do you think you—”
“I’m the prosecutor who’s going to make sure nothingquestionablehas happened whileyouwere in charge of a prisoner who’s supposed to be under interjurisdictional custody. Now back away from Strickland.” The cold look on Marco’s face sent daggers at the doctor. Credit to her, though, that she only gulped and nodded slightly. Lesser men would’ve no doubt pissed themselves. “One of you officers, get caution tape and the coroner here ASAP. I want an autopsy, butnoone goes near that hospital bed until the feds come, got it?”
Low murmurs of agreement came from the Ashland County officers and they immediately backed up from the door as doctors held their hands up and walked out the door. Half of them probably didn’t even know the extent of Marco’s authority and that this was probably even above his paygrade. But Wes knew from the Army that if anyone spoke in the commanding tone that Marco had just used, nearly everyone would listen.
Marco was on the phone for less than a minute before he leaned against the wall beside Wes. Wes knew he needed to call Hawk. They needed to regroup and figure out their next step, but at this point, for just a second, he needed a breather to understand what just fucking happened.
“So you’re thinking what I’m thinking?” Wes asked, not looking at Marco.
Marco blew out a deep exhale. “Jeffrey Epstein?” Mentioning the infamous name of the man who had been “suicided” in jail years before while awaiting various charges related to sex trafficking.
Even though it was the furthest thing from funny, Wes huffed out a laugh before answering.
“Yup. Mitchell Strickland just got fucking Epsteined.”
Chapter Twenty
“Eat your dinner and watch your show, baby.” Naomi slid the grilled cheese with the edges cut off, with the dinosaur chicken nuggets on the side across the concrete countertop.
It hurt her inner chef to feed her child the fake orange cheese, but it was the only kid-friendly food in the refrigerator at that moment. Four of the BlackStone Crew lived on the second floor of the BlackStone facility and despite the fact that all four of them were jacked and fit, the fridge had been empty when she arrived except for beer and random snacks. She had no idea where they got their nutrition, but it certainly wasn’t from their kitchen.
And poor Wes, bless his heart. He’d taken it upon himself to go grocery shopping to surprise Naomi with “every kid thing” he could find. Which unfortunately meant fake cheese, just-add-water boxed foods, and frozen items, all with cartoons on them.
She lifted one of the cereal boxes and sighed. The green little guy on the front was touting how many marshmallows were inside an allegedly nutritional breakfast.
“Yeah, I’m definitely giving him a list next time,” she murmured to herself.
When they did need more groceries, she would either have to ask Wes again or be very cautious about going out herself. She wasn’t even going to work, instead putting down two weeks of vacation until she and Thea could get situated. Thanks to Dean, she was quickly running out of PTO.
Trying not to give that man another second of her worries, Naomi pushed the doom and gloom thoughts aside before returning the box to the counter. The colors on the cardboard were garish against the gray concrete countertop. In fact, the brightness was out of place in the whole damn facility.
Everything in the BlackStone Complex was concrete. The floors, the ceiling, countertops, walls. When they’d first arrived, she’d been afraid it would feel like a prison. But her fears had eased when she saw the well-decorated facades and accents on the walls and ceilings. Certainly not her style, but it was much nicer than what she’d expected from the warehouse the few times she’d visited.
Thea loved it all. But Thea loved anything new. Maybe that was why she hadn’t asked about her dad. Not once.
Naomi expelled a deep breath and tapped her nails on the cement. “T, baby, I’m not askin’ again. Come get your dinner. I’m not gonna bring it to you when the good Lord gave you two fine feet of your own.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thea muttered in her mindless iPad-watching voice as she slid off her chair. The whole walk to the counter and back, her eyes were glued to the screen even though she’d seen the movie a million times. When she finally settled at the long dining table at the center of the kitchen in the floor’s open concept, she mindlessly started to eat her grilled cheese. Probably not even aware of what she was eating.
Just as well. It was trash.
Male whispers came from the living room and Naomi went to Thea and tapped the large headphones hooked on her neck.
“Headphones, T. And not too loud.”
Thea nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen as she clumsily placed the headphones on her head. Once on, Thea continued to eat the tiniest bites of her sandwich. It was a treat for her to watch a show while she ate. Naomi’s rule was that she could watch the show, but when Thea finished eating, it was bath time and bedtime. So naturally, T was making her dinner last as long as possible with the smallest of bites.
With Thea preoccupied, Naomi focused on the conversation in the living room, far enough away for the whispers to be heard but not discernible.
The BlackStone crew had a meeting after Wes and Assistant District Attorney Marco Aguilar finally got back from the hospital, and Naomi could hear Wes speaking with Hawk in hushed tones in the living room.
