A lump had developed in my throat and I swallowed hard. “He ruined so many families. Children may have been taken from their birth parents.”
Joe squeezed my thigh again. “Maybe only a few were kidnapped.”
“Fingers-crossed Ingrid gets to keep her grandchildren,” I said.
Ray blew out a huge sigh. “Yeah. You kicked a hornet’s nest.” His phone pinged and he pulled it out of his back pocket and read the screen. “Kristi just finished up with the FBI. She gave them your address and wants me to warn you they’re headed this way.” He typed a response to Kristi.
“Do we need a lawyer?” I asked.
“Nah. But if you have anything of Oscar’s you want to keep, you better hide it now.” He stared at his phone like he expected a reply.
I shook my head. “You still have his tablet, right?”
Ray raised an eyebrow. “What tablet? I don’t remember a tablet.”
Joe grunted. “Great. First you persuade my wife to break and enter, and now she’s concealing evidence from the FBI.”
Ray shushed Joe. “Just for a couple of days. I want to try to clone the tablet and then I’ll turn it over to the FBI.” His phone pinged again. Ray read the message and a scowl grew on his face.
“Is Kristi okay?” I wondered what was really going on between those two.
Ray nodded and typed a response. He looked up after sending the message. “She’s fine. You want me to stick around while the FBI asks you questions or take off?”
Joe pushed back from the table. “Stay. I don’t like the idea of Charlie lying to the FBI about the tablet.”
Ray took my empty plate and stacked it on top of his. “She doesn’t have to. If they ask I’ll tell them I have it and leave Charlie out of it.” He stood and grabbed Joe’s plate.
Joe picked up the pasta and salad bowls. The two men went to the kitchen and cleaned the dishes and pots. I sipped my wine and marveled that Ray rinsed dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. A sure sign of domesticity, adulthood, and definitely something to remember to tell Kristi the next time I saw her.
The doorbell rang and I waved off the men, leaving them to finish. I walked through the dining room and noticed Oscar’s box. The envelope with photos sat on top of his birthday cards. On a whim, I scooped up the photo envelope and tucked it into the silverware drawer of my china hutch.
I peeked through my front door peephole. An official-looking business-suited couple waited on the other side of my door with Tom. I swung the door open. “Hello, Tom.”
“Hi, Charlie. Agent Simms and Agent Krakauer from the FBI wanted to ask you some questions.” Tom’s thumbs were hooked into his belt, his palms resting over his weapon on one side and flashlight on the other.
“Sure.” I stepped back. “Would you care for something to drink?” I motioned to the dining room.
“Agent Simms, and coffee, black, if it’s no trouble.” The young woman thrust her hand in my direction and gave me a sturdy handshake.
“No trouble. Decaf or regular?”
“Regular,” Agent Krakauer said.
I poked my head into the kitchen. “Want to make a pot, or shall I?”
“I’ll do it.” Joe lightened his smarmy look with a wink.
“I know how to make coffee. I just choose not to,” I said with a touch of sass.
“It’s hard to make it when you’re asleep,” he teased.
Ray folded the dishtowel he’d used and followed me into the dining room.
“Tom,” Ray said.
Tom nodded in his direction. “Ray.”
Krakauer cracked his knuckles. “Mrs. Sanders, how do you know Mr. McGuffin?”
“His cabin is next to Oscar’s. We met the morning I discovered Oscar’s body.” I sat at the head of the table.
Ray left a seat for Joe and sat in the next one.
Tom, Krakauer, and Simms filled in on the other side of the table.
“Are those Oscar’s things?” Agent Simms pointed to the box on the table.
“Yes.”
“Is this everything of Oscar’s?” Krakauer asked.
“No. I brought most of his things to his parents’ house but Mrs. Robles didn’t want anything so I brought Oscar’s things to Goodwill and the foodbank. There are a few small items at the cabin.” It was a mostly honest answer.
Ray spoke up. “And Tom and I took Oscar’s notebooks earlier today.”
Krakauer pulled a small notebook out of his suit pocket and made a note. “Are those the notebooks you gave us?” he asked Tom.
“Yes,” Tom answered.
Joe entered and put four coffee cups down in the center of the table. He stretched his arm across the table. “Joe Sanders.”
Krakauer shook Joe’s hand. “Agent Krakauer. This is Agent Simms.”
Joe shook her hand and murmured a hello and then sat next to me.
“Do you believe Tyler Rigby is responsible for the death of Oscar Robles?” Krakauer’s eyes narrowed on me, and his cop-glare was far more effective than Tom’s.
My stomach knotted. “I think he may have been involved.”
“Can you go over the events of Friday night, after you left your work?” Krakauer asked.
“Wait a minute, is she a suspect?” Ray asked Tom.
Krakauer’s hands fisted on the table. “She has a motive.” He stretched his hands, and the knuckles cracked, the sound a sickening click-clacking.
“What motive?” My voice rose past soprano with surprise, making me sound like I was speaking dolphin.
Krakauer tightened his fists. “You thought Tyler killed Oscar and was going to get away with it.” He unwound his fists and cracked each knuckle, slower this time, like he knew I hated the sound and wanted to provoke me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Joe stood and his chair squeaked against the wood floor. He slapped his
