Ryker rubbed the back of his neck and leveled his gaze on Brock. “Okay. I’ll have my major call McBride’s captain and yours. There is a strong possibility this directly results from the Peña Cartel eliminating witnesses.” He motioned to the crime scene. “Mind if I look?”
“Not a problem. Follow me.” Brock led the way through the crime scene tape that marked cleared areas for responding personnel. Brody fell in beside Ryker. They trailed behind Brock a bit. Brody quietly grumped, “Fucker should have told us.”
“Should have, but you know he wouldn’t.” Especially if not telling Ryker would put egg on Joint Drug Enforcement Team’s face. If he was anything, he was realistic. It had been just over three months since they had reinstated him after that dickhead Fenton had tossed him to the wolves. Cleared of any wrongdoing, he re-assumed responsibility as JDET Commander, then Fenton had received a reprimand for wasting the city’s resources, which put Ryker’s ass on a powder keg with Fenton waiting to light the fuse. The man was gunning for him.
The Commissioner had started the paperwork to remove JDET from Fenton’s control and place it directly under Central Precinct’s direct supervision, but the transition was taking forever. He understood. It took time to smooth feathers. The people over Fenton were not happy, and they were fighting the move. JDET made huge busts, they were multi-jurisdictional, and that meant it funneled federal money into the division. Only that money didn’t make its way to JDET. No, Fenton kept the money the FBI and DEA sent and used it to beef up other sections under his control. That’s why they’d done an end around the motherfucker and were now receiving a percentage of the monies forfeited from the massive drug busts they’d made. Fenton himself had threatened him—actually, the bastard flat out told him he would ruin his career. There were no witnesses to the conversation.
He stopped beside Brock King and shook his head.
“I’d prefer if we didn’t get any closer, Captain. The crime scene techs and photographers are finished with the area for now, but we’re waiting on the ME. When they’re done, I’m going back in with the crime scene techs to see if the bodies were covering any evidence. Speaking of which...” Brock motioned behind them to the large black van that was arriving. “There they are. I’ll go get them. Take your time.”
As one, both he and Brody squatted down and peered at the dead bodies. The fire had made recognition impossible. Desoto could be any of the three, or he could be in the wind.
“Peña wants Desoto dead. The fire could have been Molotov cocktails again, like at the Edelmans’.” Brody muttered the words.
Ryker nodded as he stared at the grotesquely twisted bodies, mouths opened in a charred scream. “It would appear Peña is cleaning house. We need to keep tabs on Clare Edelman. Find out what name they listed on her paperwork. If Fenton is on it, remove that fucker and put you, me, and Theron on that sheet. Also, get word to the US Marshals so they can inform whatever marshal has Edelman’s husband’s WitSec case to tell that man to be careful.” Brody scribbled in his notebook as Ryker rattled off actions he wanted his sergeant to ensure happened. Ryker shifted and narrowed his eyes, scanning the area. “No way of telling if they died beforehand or died in the fire. Let’s look at the kitchen.”
They carefully retraced their path and headed to the side of the house. From the doorway, they surveyed the area. White powder covered the table. A scale, cellophane, and scrapers littered the tabletop.
“I had the crime scene techs do a drug test kit. This is heroin. I can’t help but think someone interrupted the process of these guys cutting up and processing the H for sale.”
Ryker nodded. “The question is why would Desoto be cutting heroin. He wasn’t a dealer, nor was he a user.”
Brody scratched his chin. “Think maybe he needed quick money and had some of this around as insurance?”
“Maybe.” Ryker shook his head. “He could have been trying to get some quick money to make a run. Or someone was sitting on Desoto’s place. Someone working for Peña. Desoto comes home, they hold him for the boss.”
“Only the boss isn’t in the mood to talk. He orders a hit and all three die.” Brock’s voice behind them finished the thought.
Ryker shot the detective a sideways glance. “That would be one of many theories.”
“We can work through those ideas when I receive the reports and evidence. Detective McBride is in the back. He’s made the initial call of suspected arson, but he won’t go further until he has all the I’s dotted and T’s crossed. He’s talking to the fire chief. You might want to catch a word with him before he starts to collect his samples.”
“Thanks.” Ryker motioned to the drugs. “Brody, you have this. I’ll talk to the arson investigator, then get going. I’m assuming someone responded with you?” His sergeant was a damn good detective, but he wasn’t letting his people work alone after recent events.
“Yes, sir. I'm here with Patel. She’s getting contact information on the people who reported the fire and is going over their statements. I wanted to know if they’d noticed any unusual traffic around the house lately.” Brody’s head swiveled until he found her. “There, with the older couple in bathrobes.”
“Good. Brock, please keep us up to speed on your case. Brody, I’ll see you at the office later.” He left his sergeant and strolled around the building. The stench of burning materials—and yes, flesh—hung around the structure like a shroud. Sean McBride turned as Ryker approached. McBride’s eyebrows flew up. Ryker got that a lot. Few captains made it a point to come to crime scenes, but JDET
