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There were so many things for Nelson to address there, but he thought it best to remind Boyle of certain points of protocol. “In a typical investigation involving multiple jurisdictions, the local medical examiner takes possession of the body and all evidence. All of that evidence is then processed so the examiner can determine the cause of death and the receiving agency. When victims are taken from one state, found in another, and linked to other missing persons in multiple states, the FBI and the Justice Department own your ass,” Nelson informed him dryly.
“I’m aware, Nelson,” Boyle growled. “What’s your point?”
Nelson ducked his chin. “In this case, your department falls under the Roanoke ME’s jurisdiction. Dr. Bixby, specifically, who has requested that you produce those boots and statements from the MacCrorys. At the behest of the FBI—me.” Nelson swatted himself in the chest with his notepad. “The deputy director, under the authority of the director of the FBI and the attorney general of the United States have empowered me with the authority to compel you to cooperate and provide that evidence. Failure to do so could result in serious legal and administrative consequences. For you,” he added.
Nox gasped as he clutched his chest. “So perfect,” he groaned appreciatively, making Nelson blush.
He shook it off and gave Boyle an expectant look. “Are these respected residents worth your career and your reputation?”
“All this over some boots? What are you two on?” Boyle asked, but he looked straight at Nox.
He pretended to be offended. “I have a prescription, but that’s neither here nor there. I bet you knew there was a history of MacCrorys practicing witchcraft in those woods that went way back yonder,” Nox accused, wagging a finger at Boyle.
“That old nonsense?” He laughed. “You’re spun up over some old wives’ tales? That better not be all you’ve got, son.”
“Brian MacCrory met Elsa Hansen!” Nox said loudly but Nelson cleared his throat and shook his head.
He gestured for Nox to stay calm and let him handle it. He held Boyle’s gaze until his eyes started to burn, then looked down at his notepad. “No offense, Sheriff, but my father is a thirty-two-year veteran of the bureau and he understands basic jurisdictional procedure. And I can assure you I would not be here with an expert, in person, to request that evidence if all I had were ‘wives tales.’”
“I…” Boyle’s gaze ping-ponged between Nelson and Nox. “I’m sorry, but you don’t understand. Those boots are lost. Colin MacCrory’s old lady got overzealous with the pitchfork and tossed them in the fire with the rubbish after they got home. She didn’t think nothin’ of it and she’ll vouch for ol’ Colin and Brian that night, you can be sure.”
“Oh, you are so screwed!” Nox said, rising from his seat. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to waste another minute with this crooked yokel.” He tossed his chin at Boyle defiantly and pulled the door open. “And shame on you, young lady.”
Nelson tapped his brow with his notepad on his way out. “You’ll be hearing from us,” he told Boyle, ignoring the sheriff’s protests and striding past gawking locals in Nox’s wake.
He let the glass door slam behind him and jogged to the Continental when he was hit by an icy blast. It began to rain as he lowered into his seat and started the car. “We have nothing but wives’ tales and an iffy connection to a literacy league. And it’s very likely that Brian MacCrory is illiterate. I need more to connect the MacCrorys to this without those boots.” He looked at Nox, who was grinning at Nelson like he was made of crystals and moonbeams. “What?”
“I’m regretting what I said earlier about not wanting to command you. You were incredibly hot back there and now I’ve got some sexually explicit demands I’d like to make,” Nox said, cocking his thumb over his shoulder at the sheriff’s office.
“What?” Nelson didn’t understand how losing his temper or throwing his weight around was hot. There was a crack of thunder and the sky lit up a moment later. “It’s getting late. Let’s find someplace to eat and see if this is going to blow over.”
Nox tapped his phone’s screen, pulling up the forecast and a map. “Looks like it’ll be bad until morning and the temperature’s going to drop enough for it to get slippery. There’s no point risking our lives to get back to Georgetown at 2:00 AM.”
“You have to teach in the morning,” Nelson argued.
“Not until 10:00. Tony can cover for me until I get there if I’m late.”
Nelson let out a low, rattling groan at the terrible sense of foreboding in his gut. “There’s only one place to stay around here and I think I’d rather sleep in the car.”
“I know, but we don’t have a choice. Minnie’s is the only motel for at least an hour so we better hurry over there and see what she’s got available before it gets any later.”
“I hate this place, Nox,” Nelson muttered, reversing out of the spot and turning toward the highway and the motel.
“Looks like there’s a vacancy,” Nox said, cheering and pointing at the flickering neon sign when Nelson parked next to the motel’s office.
Nelson sighed at the windshield, dreading the mildew and the stench of hundreds of pairs of sweaty feet awaiting them. “Remember the talk we had about free will?”
“Yeah?”
“I can feel the will to live draining from my body right now, Nox.”
“Come on. I’ll go with you.” Nox gave Nelson a thumbs-up before getting out. “Hang onto your rollers, Minnie. We’re back,” he announced when he got the door for Nelson.
She chuckled as she shuffled up to the counter in her housecoat and slippers, a lit cigarette clamped between her lips. “Good news, boys! Old Eddie died yesterday so we’ve got two rooms.”
Nelson grimaced, the foreboding intensifying rapidly. “How did Eddie die?”
“He was old and he smoked a pack a day. Probably not a puzzle for two geniuses from the FBI. You want both rooms or do you wanna share the honeymoon suite again?” She tapped her cigarette on an ashtray, staring Nox down and daring him to say they weren’t those kinds of partners.
