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The door opened, and he tensed for a moment and then relaxed, seeing the four men who came in.
Sean led the way, followed by Dylan, Sheriff Jason, and the two Knight brothers.
“Where’s our girl?” Eric asked.
“In the dressing room with Jena,” he told them. “They should be out to model another outfit any minute.”
“Robin Hood. I can’t wait to meet her,” Scott said. “She’s a very talented coder.”
“That’s quite the understatement,” Dylan chimed in. “Kip selected her because she is brilliant. She was only a few months away from graduating with her Master’s from MIT. According to some of her professors I was able to talk to, she was one of their very best. They were shocked when she fell off the map.”
Matt recalled Jena telling them about her past. His gut coiled into a knot. Wherever her ex was, he better not show his face in Destiny. “She’s Bobby Taylor’s kid. You know, the race car driver who got killed in a crash about five years ago.”
“That’s news to me,” Jason said, turning to Dylan. “I’m listening. We all are. Give us the details on what you’ve learned since the incident in Odessa.”
“As you all know, the warehouse was cleaned out when I got back there with the local authorities. I made several inquiries to some friends in the Agency and found out that the only visit Kip has ever had from Mitrofanov is the one we already know about.”
“Are you saying they’re not working together?” Sean asked.
“I’m not saying one way or the other. I’ll let the facts speak for themselves. Mitrofanov only went to Kip’s cell once, but a couple of his men went several times after that.”
“I thought the warden was a tough case and had locked Lunceford up tighter than a drum,” Scott said.
Dylan nodded. “The warden is a straight shooter by all accounts I could find. Kip is classified as maximum custody. His cell is equipped with a toilet, sink, bed, and mattress. He has no contact with any other inmate. Out-of-cell time is limited to outdoor exercise in a secured area two hours a day, three times a week, and a shower three times a week. Correction officers deliver his meals at the cell’s front. Personal property is limited to hygiene items, two books, and writing materials. He is not allowed any electronics. He gets no phone calls but is allowed, by law, limited non-contact visitations once a week. Kip has had at least one visitor every week for many months.”
“Mitrofanov’s men.” Matt admired Dylan’s unearthing of the information. The guy had always been good at getting to the core of an investigation or mission in no time flat.
“I still need to check around to verify it was Mitrofanov’s thugs, but all indications point to that being the case.” Dylan looked at his cell. “It’s a text from Erica. As usual, the ladies are getting the Destiny Welcome Wagon out for Jena.”
“Megan’s rallied the troops for a party for Ms. Robin Hood tonight,” Scott said.
“At our house,” Eric added.
Matt smiled. The people of Destiny were so very kind.
The door to the boutique opened. He swung around, ready to draw his gun should he need to. Sean’s hand was inside his jacket as well.
The person who walked in shocked him. Shane Blue, Phoebe’s brother, a recent parolee.
“What are you doing here?” Jason snapped.
Shane’s eyes widened. “I didn’t expect to see you, Sheriff. I came to talk to Dylan.”
“I asked my cousin to come.” Dylan seemed a little surprised by Shane’s sudden appearance. Odd. That wasn’t like Dylan. “We can use him on this.” He returned to his normal stoic demeanor.
“Use him?” The sheriff spun around and faced Dylan. “He’s a convicted felon. What the hell can he do for us on this investigation?”
“Damn, Jason. Think. Shane’s been to prison, and, in fact, he was in the same prison as Kip is now. Shane knows the ins and outs.”
Matt knew Dylan well and respected him. It was clear to him that Dylan and the convict respected one another.
“What can you tell us about Mitrofanov and Lunceford’s connection to each other?” Sean asked.
“Nothing yet, but I’ll check with some cellmates Tuesday when they can take calls,” Shane told them. “They’re not in maximum like Kip, but they know that entire prison, including his block, like the back of their hands. Nothing goes down that they’re not aware of.”
“From drug dealer to prison squealer,” Jason mocked. “I wouldn’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”
“I know,” Shane said calmly. “I’ll tell you what I learn and you guys do with it what you want. I don’t want the Russian mobsters here anymore than you do. This is my hometown, too.” Without waiting, the man turned and left the boutique.
