Page 58 of Devil's Hour
“Why do you want to know?” Royce asked. There would never be a note in his personnel file claiming he plays well with other agencies. “Don’t give me that need-to-know-basis bullshit either. You want something from me, you’re going to need to tell me why.”
The woman heaved a sigh, and he imagined she rolled her eyes too. “Crystal Akeman is an undercover agent who missed her check-in with her handler.”Holy fuck.Crystal was a fed? Had Marcus known? “And now the local police in her area are looking for her address and requesting next of kin information. Is my agent dead?”
Royce swallowed hard. “A woman by that name was killed in a fire, yes.”
“Give me your email address. I’ll send over her picture so you can give me a positive ID.”
Royce agreed and rattled off his email address. He had the picture within seconds and called the direct line Hampshire included in her email.
“Is it her?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he said solemnly. “The victim identified as Crystal Akeman is Agent Amber Neilson.”
They’d arrived at the Sunrise Apartments by the time Royce finished telling Agent Hampshire what he knew, which was very little. She, in turn, told him nothing except that agents would be arriving in Savannah as soon as possible. The bureau would notify Crys…Amber’s family after their agents made a positive ID on the body. Hampshire was quick to assure him she hadn’t doubted his word, as if he cared what she thought about him, and was following procedure.
“What did she say?” Sawyer asked when he dropped his phone in the cupholder and scrubbed both hands over his face.
“The feds are coming. The feds are coming.” Royce recapped the brief conversation, and they sat mutely in the car, rolling the latest revelation in their heads. Shocking didn’t come close to describing it. “What do you want to do next?”
“They’re going to take over our case,” Royce said, rolling over their options, which were admittedly few. The FBI might’ve declined to get involved when it was only the mayor getting harassed, if she’d actually called like she threatened, but they weren’t going to let SPD investigate a homicide involving one of their agents. So, what he should’ve done was tell Sawyer to drive them to the precinct so he could update Rigby as soon as she finished meeting with the commissioner. Instead, he got out of the car and started walking to Crystal’s apartment.Amber’sapartment.It might take him a minute to fix that in his head.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sawyer asked, catching up to him.
“No,” Royce said, stopping to look at Sawyer. “If you’d rather not be part of this, I’ll understand. Just wait for me in the car.”
Sawyer shook his head. “Hell no. We’re partners in every sense of the word. Just tell me what you’re hoping to find in there.”
“Answers about Marcus,” Royce said. “Maybe IA thinks he’s dirty because he was helping Crystal.” Sawyer didn’t look at him with pity, but it was pretty damn close. “Hear me out,” Royce said, holding up his hand. “Or maybe he was fucking dirty, and Crystal was the one who’d reported him to IA.” Royce remembered her heartbroken sobs when she spoke about Marcus. Maybe she was in love with him, or perhaps she felt responsible for his death. “I just need answers so Candi can heal and eventually move forward.” Royce took a deep breath. “And I can too. Whether he was dirty or working with Crystal, or just another cheating spouse, I need to know, GB.” Maybe he could start seeing other versions of Marcus besides the lifeless one. Royce didn’t hold out a lot of hope he’d find what he was looking for, but he had to try. Recalling Candi’s diminished health and aura of despair solidified that doing the correct thing wasn’t always the right choice. “The way I see it, I have three and a half to four hours to get answers before they storm into our station and take over.” Sooner if they had agents closer to Savannah than Atlanta they could mobilize.
“Good thing I grabbed these out of the glovebox,” Sawyer said, pulling two pairs of black nitrile gloves from his pocket. He handed one set to Royce and returned the second to his front pocket until it was time to use them. “If we can’t shake the property manager once she unlocks the door, then I’ll ask about leasing an apartment or something. Maybe she can show me around an empty one.”
Royce stowed the gloves away and tipped his head to the side. “I’m not the only one with layers.”
“It’s not like you’re trying to do an illegal search and seizure.”
“Careful,” Royce teased. “It’s a slippery slope. Distracting the property manager today and—” Royce stopped talking when Sawyer gave a subtle jerk of his head.
“Which one of you is Sergeant Locke?” a woman asked from several feet away.
Royce plastered a smile on his face, then turned around to face her. “That would be me, ma’am. Thank you for assisting us this morning.”
She eyed the shield hanging from the chain around his neck. “Like I had a choice,” she grumbled. “Follow me, then.”
The apartment complex was a massive, two-story, H-shaped structure where each apartment door faced either the courtyard in the front or the swimming pool in the back. Amber Nielson’s apartment was located in the center of the second story, overlooking the courtyard and the parking lot beyond it. The positioning also placed her an equal distance between all the staircases if she needed to exit in a hurry. She’d either chosen well or gotten lucky that the spot was free when she signed her lease.
Tabby stopped outside her apartment and knocked. “Ms. Akeman, it’s Tabby Johnson. Are you home?” When no response followed, she inserted the key in the deadbolt and unlocked the door. Rather than push it all the way open, Tabby said, “The police are here with me to conduct a wellness check.” After a few seconds, she pushed the door all the way open and stepped aside. “Should I stay out here?” she asked, sounding unsure. “It’s my first time in this situation.”
“I’d prefer you to wait out here in case we find something unpleasant.”
“Do you think she’s…dead?” Tabby shuddered hard.
“I don’t know, but I’d prefer you to stay here just in case.”
The woman looked as if she was going to agree but then narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t need a warrant?”
“No, ma’am,” Sawyer said. “We’re not here to search the property for evidence in a crime.”
“I just want to make sure—” Her words died suddenly, and Royce turned to see what had captured her attention. Two young guys walking a small ball of fluff on a leash were approaching an apartment on the second story. “Excuse me,” Tabby said, darting around Royce and heading toward the guys. “I don’t recall either of you filling out the appropriate paperwork to bring home a dog.”