Page 99 of Concrete Evidence
Marc startled and scooted back from the table. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What’s wrong?” Avery said.
Roden Clement stood in the brick archway facing the breakfast area. He looked a little weak but bigger than life. “Mornin’, Marc.”
Marc drew him into a right-sided bear hug like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. “Tell me you didn’t drive here.”
“Okay, I won’t.” Roden’s booming laughter filled the kitchen. “I heard you requested an agent. Hurt my feelings.”
“What did Victoria say?”
Roden leaned on his left leg. His whole side must hurt. “The First Lady of the Clement household gave the devil a run for his money. If I come back with so much as a mosquito bite, I’m sleeping on the couch for a month.”
“Oh, where does she put me?”
“There isn’t a hole deep enough for you to hide.”
Avery listened to the two men toss back and forth the banter offriendship. But she couldn’t eliminate the worry of the storm, not just the hurricane but where the crimes were headed. Someone she and Granddad trusted had committed multiple murders to cover up a loathsome scheme. God help her if the guilty ones were her parents. Time to confront them.
56
SERVING A SEARCH WARRANTon an unsuspecting party always worked best, and Marc had secured a warrant from a local judge to search Jake Drendle’s home. But first things first. At 10a.m., Marc arrived at the hospital with Roden and Avery to interview Jake. They made their way to his guarded room. No doubt Jake’s dad or an attorney awaited them, and Marc had no intention of informing Jake or anyone in his room about the legal document.
After displaying their FBI credentials and Avery presenting her driver’s license to the guard, they entered the hospital room. Jake leaned back against propped pillows, and an IV ran healing fluids into his body. As expected, two men in their late forties sat on the far side of the bed. One man wore jeans and a button-down shirt, and the second man was dressed in a lightweight sport jacket over jeans. Both wore boots—standard gear for this community.
“Good morning, Jake,” Marc said.
The kid sneered, must be his favorite response.
Marc extended his hand to the two seated men. “I’m FBI Special Agent Marc Wilkins, and this is my partner, Special Agent Roden Clement.”
Mr. Sport Jacket stood and shook their hands. “Dale Morrow, the Drendles’ attorney.”
The second man reluctantly rose and lightly grasped Marc’s hand, then Roden’s. “Drendle. Jake’s dad.” He nodded at Avery. “Miss Elliott.”
She returned the greeting and sat in a far corner, a prearranged position where she would observe Jake.
Morrow smiled. “You men must have taken a beating.”
Marc forced a slim-lipped smile in return. “That’s what happens when someone is trying to stop you from ending a crime spree. Are you aware of the charges against Jake?”
“We are,” Morrow said. “Seems to me like they’re trumped up since he gave you a beating.”
Marc swallowed his retort. “Last night Jake refused to talk. I’m hoping he’ll cooperate this morning.”
The elder Drendle rose to his feet. “I don’t like your implications. Last night was a misunderstanding. A kid’s retaliation against the man who fired him.”
“The foreman who fired him is missing.”
“Jake couldn’t see in the dark.”
“That means shooting a man is all right?”
“Depends on who the man is.”
“Sir, Jake entered private property clearly marked No Trespassing. The entrance gates are guarded by the sheriff’s department and monitored with security cams. He jumped a fence where he knew the security cams were beyond range and used a rifle equipped with a laser scope and aimed at those inside the Elliott home. He attacked a federal officer and got himself shot. He’s also a person ofinterest in the deaths of three men and attempted murder in two other cases.”
Drendle shook a beefy finger at Marc. “You’re just out to build your reputation by laying false accusations on my boy.”
