Saving Amber - Zoe Dawson Page 0,62
our autopsy guys. Damn shame. Gunshot.”
Cold dread snaked down Tristan’s spine. He took off at a run for the sheriff’s department with the guy shouting, “Hey, you can’t leave your car here!”
Ignoring the woman at reception, Tristan barreled through until he caught sight of Garza. The man saw him coming and the look on his face was defensive and sly. Tristan knew. He just knew. Garza was involved somehow in James’s death. He didn’t know how, but Amber was onto it. It had to be the reason she hadn’t left.
Tristan never slowed. He brought all 260 pounds of protective, enraged muscle into his forward momentum as Garza rose from his chair then backpedaled at the swiftness of Tristan’s charge. He slammed into Garza, propelling him rapidly across the short space that separated him from the wall. Tristan shoved him hard, the man’s hands coming up to try to pry his hands loose. Chairs scraped across the floor and shouts sounded out behind him, but his focus was on Garza and it never wavered. “Where is she, you son of a bitch!”
“Who?”
Tristan’s face contorted. “Don’t play dumb with me!”
He struggled against Tristan’s grip, but Tristan slammed him again, holding on tight. “Let go of me!”
“Answer me! I know she was arguing with you. Amber! Where is she?”
“What? I don’t know. She was here and she left. I’ve been at a murder scene for the last two hours.”
The sheriff’s voice boomed across the office. “What the hell is going on here?”
Hands grabbed Tristan and pulled him off Garza. Tension tightened in the room as he glared at Garza.
“He thinks I know where Amber Dalton is,” Garza said, straightening his uniform. “I don’t. I told him she was here, and she left.”
“She couldn’t have left! Her car’s still parked outside and her cell phone was underneath it. If you’ve harmed her, you bastard—”
“What are you saying?” The sheriff demanded, cutting him off.
“Special Agent Amber Dalton has been taken. She’s missing!”
Tristan stalked to his car. The sheriff had dragged him and Garza into his office. He’d been concerned about Amber but had insisted that Tristan leave the station unless he had proof that Garza was involved in her disappearance. He agreed to impound her car and keep it here under lock and key until Tristan contacted NCIS. Tristan kept her phone.
When he got to his vehicle, her cell phone rang and Tristan wheeled into a parking spot, answering, “Hello.”
“Who’s this?” a male voice said.
“Who’s this,” Tristan demanded.
“Amber’s boss, Supervisory Special Agent in Charge Chris Vargas. And you are?”
“Master Sergeant Tristan Michaels. I’m working with Amber.”
“Where is she? I’m checking in. Amber was supposed to call me. She’s never late.”
“I was just about to call you. I can’t find her. I have her cell and I found her car here at the Mono County Sheriff’s Department. She was here to see a deputy and now she’s missing.”
Tristan heard a voice in the background. “Hang on. I’m putting you on speaker. I have Amber’s coworkers here with me. Special Agents Vincent Fitzgerald and Beau Jerrott.”
He heard another man’s voice. “This is Fitzgerald. This deputy’s last name wouldn’t happen to be Garza, would it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“That’s bad news. Amber asked me to do some checking for her regarding Sean Garza’s last two jobs. Both sheriffs said he was an egotistical jerk. He had altercations with other deputies, suspicion of abuse in both places. One of the deputies in Plato, Colorado, went missing. They questioned Garza, but they found nothing to connect him to the deputy’s disappearance. He told me that he suspected Garza, but when he quit, there was nothing he could do to hold him there. That case has gone cold and is still open.”
Tristan hit the steering wheel hard with the heel of his hand. Panic was not a normal state for him. Ever. He needed to calm down, think rationally, but the possibility that Garza had already killed Amber made him crazy with gut-clenching pain and rage. “I know he has her, but I can’t prove it and I have no authority here to force anything,” Tristan said through clenched teeth.
Another man’s voice with a hint of a French accent came over the line, must be the other agent, Jerrott. “That’s a bold good-for-nuthin’ to take her in broad daylight outside a sheriff’s department. Sounds like he thinks he’s invincible.”
“It gets worse. The doctor that did the autopsies of both Connelly and Mayer was murdered today. When we saw him yesterday, he had a