Chapter Seventeen
“Close the door, Mark,” said the chief, sitting behind his desk.
Mark glanced at the dark-haired man who lingered in the corner. He wore black jeans and a dress shirt, too clean cut to be an average cop.
“This is Special Agent Ramirez,” the chief said, gesturing toward him. It wasn’t lost on Mark that he hadn’t taken off his ball cap, which he usually did inside. Mark could see that something wasn’t sitting right with his chief, who clearly knew a lot that he didn’t.
“Detective,” Ramirez replied as Mark shook his hand.
Mark just glanced back to Billy Jo and Shay waiting in the bullpen by his desk. Whatever they were discussing, it appeared Billy Jo was doing all the talking.
“It seems you may have been right about the situation at the camp,” the chief said. “The Fed
