Page 77 of Buried Secrets

“You’ve got it. But Matt? This better be airtight. If we’re wrong…”

“We’re not wrong.”

The mayor hung up without another word. Matt stared at the phone, acid churning in his gut. The political pressure was starting already, and they hadn’t even served the warrants yet.

His phone buzzed with a call from Samira. He answered it.

“I just got a visit from a few FBI agents newly assigned to the case. I thought you should know, especially after our last conversation. Agent Cook is off the case. He’s been under investigation for months due to questions about his conduct on previous cases. That was the other reason I was surprised he was here.”

Matt’s mind raced. “Where is he now?”

“Gone. Left about an hour ago in a hurry after he heard about the evidence you found. I think he may be coming to get rid of it.”

“It’s here at the station.”

“Good. Keep it that way. Don’t let it out of your sight until our people arrive.”

The line went dead. Matt stared at his phone. Agent Cook had been a thorn in his side, unhelpful and boorish. Clearly, he’d been sabotaging the case from the beginning.

The office phone rang again. Alice’s voice carried from the front. “Sheriff, Judge Morrison’s clerk on line two. Something about expediting your warrant requests.”

Matt grabbed the phone.

“Sheriff Winters,” the clerk greeted. “Judge Morrison wants to see you immediately regarding your search warrant applications. He’s cleared his afternoon calendar.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Matt hung up and called Deputy Collins. “I’m heading to the courthouse. Keep that evidence bag locked in the safe. Nobody touches it except me.”

“Roger that,” Collins acknowledged.

Matt gathered the warrant applications. Agent Cook was somewhere between Portland and Widow’s Point Island. The courthouse was a fifteen-minute drive. Matt hoped there was enough time to get the legal authority he needed before Cook arrived on shore.

The courthouse steps felt like a mountain as Matt climbed them two at a time, warrant applications clutched in his sweating palm. Judge Morrison’s secretary waved him through immediately. The elderly jurist already waited in his chambers with reading glasses perched on his nose.

“Sheriff Winters. I understand you have urgent warrant requests related to thirty-year-old homicides.”

“Yes, Your Honor. We’ve discovered contemporary evidence that directly implicates Dr. James Whitaker and Robert Holloway in the murders of multiple young women.”

Judge Morrison studied the applications with maddening thoroughness while Matt fought the urge to pace.

“This journal you’ve discovered… you’re certain of its authenticity?”

“The circumstances of discovery all support authenticity.”

“I’m hesitant to issue searches for the homes of men who have been gone for thirty years. I remember both Whitaker and Holloway, upstanding men.” The judge had a faraway look in his eye, while Matt shifted from foot to foot. “However, I understand your reasoning. Very well.” After several long moments, the judge signed both warrants with deliberate strokes. “You have forty-eight hours, Sheriff. Execute these properly.”

Matt practically sprinted back to his cruiser, warrants sealed in official envelopes. His phone rang as he started the engine.

“Sheriff, it’s Collins. We might have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“That FBI agent, Cook? He showed up about twenty minutes ago when I was out for a shoplifter at the hardware store. Alice let him take the Straub evidence and one of our cruisers.”

Matt’s world tilted. He hadn’t thought to let Alice know the issue with Cook. “She let him take it?”

“You know how he is, boss. Throwing his federal credentials around, schmoozing her and saying you’d authorized it.”