“My boys can do that,” Hurst offered. “In fact, I think most of the town would be happy to do that. We just won’t tell them why, just to be on the lookout.”
My brain was running quickly through ways of keeping her safe, so I added, “If someone comes in that we don’t know and we can’t establish what their intentions are, we put her in the safe room or lock her down until we have answers. She’ll hate it, but it’ll keep her breathing.”
“Dad’s knows some of the people working on getting evidence against Gjorka for some of the shit going down,” DB told us both. “Over the weekend, the police vehicle her dad was meant to be in had a brake failure as it left the precinct it’d been parked at. He moves between the precincts every day so that they can’t pin him down, but one of Gjorka’s men had been spotted in the area that day, so they set up a decoy. Fortunately, it was being followed by an unmarked one that managed to get in front of it and slow it down before there was an accident.”
“Holy shit.”
Looking between the two of us, he ground out, “It’s not the first time. Her parents are staying in one of the FBI’s safe houses because of a fire in their apartment.”
Blinking at him, I asked, “Why an FBI safe house?”
“Because they’re in on the case. Gjorka’s suspected crimes aren’t limited to just the people involved in his daughter’s death. He has shady business dealings all over the country, and pretty much every organization is involved in the case against him. The problem is, with money comes power, and if they don’t have their investigation tied up nice and tight, he’ll get away with it all.”
Hurst frowned at this information, looking pissed off. “They can’t just arrest him and throw what they’ve got at a judge?”
DB gave him a humorless smile. “Not when some of his associates are in high power positions.”
Glowering at the floor, Hurst muttered, “I hate it when that happens. What the hell happened to an honest democracy? Corruption was meant to have been cleaned out of politics and our systems years ago, but there it is, festering like a pussy boil on the—”
Holding up a hand, I choked out, “Stop it. Please, don’t continue that sentence.” Then, with my hand still in the air, I said to DB, “Okay, distribute photos and get us as much information as possible. If someone new comes into town, we investigate and vet them while locking Tamsin down. In a weird twist of fate, her broken arm makes it easier for us to keep her safe, so we use that to our advantage. We need updates as often as we can get them, and we need a list of people who may be helping him out.”
I felt slightly more in control with a plan in place, but not knowing more than I did and the fact he was still out there making fuck knows what plans made me twitchy.
As we were leaving DB’s office, Hurst stopped and clapped his hands together. “I knew this sort of thing sounded familiar. Lindee loves those late-night murder investigation shows, right? So, it’s been bugging me this whole time where I’ve heard this before, but now I remember a case on one of them not long ago where the secretary of a businessman found information on her boss who was part of the Mob or something. Anyway, she went into hiding, and while he made sure he was visible to the Police watching him, the house she was in was hit by RPG’s and shit. The ammunition they found was registered to a small village in Russia, so none of it fit together.”
DB and I looked at each other when he stopped and waited for him to finish the story.
When he didn’t continue, I snapped, “And? How did they find him?”
“Oh, they didn’t. Come to find out it was a hit on the wrong place by another Mob gang.”
“And how does this help us?” DB ground out.
“I don’t know. You know, I might have gotten the stories mixed up, I’ll ask Lindee when I get home.” And with that, he left with a wave over his shoulder, leaving the two of us staring after him.
“Tabby’s at home today,” DB muttered, picking up his phone. “I’ll get her to contact Linda to find out what true crime shows she watches. She might even remember the exact details of the episode.”
Not for the first time since I moved to Piersville, I found myself asking, “I doubt it’ll help us, but now I’m curious about it. Does Hurst Townsend keep getting weirder, or is it just me?”
“It’s not just you, man,” he sighed as we started walking toward the meeting room. “Wanna hear something even weirder?”