Page 50 of The Girl in the River

“Don’t do anything until I get there,” Sheriff Kincaid said. “This is my jurisdiction and I want the body transferred to the ME in Red River Rock.”

Ellie turned away from the ghastly site and looked across the river. She didn’t like Kincaid’s demanding tone. If this was Mia, she wanted her home in Crooked Creek.

“Sheriff, it’s possible this victim could be our missing woman,” Ellie said firmly. “Which means I want her autopsy performed in Crooked Creek.”

“It’s not up for debate, Detective. She was found near my town. If I must, I’ll talk to your superior.”

“Then call him,” Ellie snapped. “Because I want it done right and I trust my ME to do it.”

“Are you implying you don’t trust me?” Sheriff Kincaid barked.

Ellie was still straddling the fence on that. “I’d just think you’d want to uncover the truth.”

“I worked both cases to the letter of the law,” he said angrily.

“I understand,” Ellie said. “But it never hurts to have fresh eyes.”

“Do not move the body,” he replied. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

The line went dead as he hung up on her.

SIXTY-THREE

That damn sheriff was giving Ellie a hard time, and Derrick didn’t like it. She was an insightful detective with incredible instincts that had led her to solve several major cases. He had to be in her corner now. “What was that about?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, looking frustrated. “Sheriff Kincaid wants to take charge of the victim. He’s probably talking to Captain Hale right now. But… I want Laney on the case.”

Derrick lifted his phone from his pocket. “Let me talk to him.” He was sick to death of small-town sheriffs bullying their way into shutting out other law enforcement, just like Bryce Waters had ever since they’d met. Sure, they were territorial but the bottom line was getting the bad guy, not who got credit. He’d long ago learned to set that part of his ego aside for the betterment of a case.

He punched Kincaid’s number and paced over to a bed of river rocks that created a natural path from the water to the sloping hill above. The phone rang three times, but Kincaid didn’t respond. He tried again and got no response as the forensic team examined the exterior of the barrel and the recovery team discussed lifting it into the van for transportation.

A siren wailed, and minutes later Sheriff Kincaid pushed his way through the weeds toward them. He blustered over, a firm set to his jaw.

“Dammit,” Ellie muttered.

Derrick went stone still.

Sweat dotted Kincaid’s ruddy face as he stopped by the barrel.

Ellie crossed her arms, impatience in her expression. “The charred remains of a person are inside,” she said, pointing to the barrel.

“I can damn well see that for myself,” Kincaid grumbled. “Who found this?”

“Ranger McClain,” Derrick said then gestured toward Cord. “He works SAR and consults with us on the task force ordered by the governor.”

Sheriff Kincaid dug his heels in. “Thanks for the call. I’ll take it from here.”

“No,” Ellie said. “It’s possible this body may be related to our case. Our ME will handle the autopsy.”

Kincaid gave a shake of his head. “The body was found in my town and I demand it stay here, too.” He scrubbed a hand over his chin. “I finish what I start.”

“I get it,” Derrick said. “But since these cases involve multiple jurisdictions, the FBI will oversee them. If I need to call the governor and the chief of the Bureau, that can be arranged.”

Kincaid muttered a curse. “Just like a fed. Always trying to wield your power.”

“Just stating the facts, Sheriff. I won’t allow you to stonewall our case.” Derrick silently called the man a few choice words but remained tight-lipped. He was a negotiator after all. “Let’s just work together and find the truth. I’m sure you want that, don’t you?”

A boat sputtered somewhere in the distance, the wind wheezing through the bushes. “Of course I do,” Kincaid groused. “But my ME will work with yours. You can’t hide details or evidence from me. I won’t have it.”

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