Chapter 1188: A Small Problem in Margrave

The police station’s conference room, now comparable in size and equipment to the Fugitive Task Force’s NYC base, lit up with the glow of a large wall-mounted screen. Two mugshots filled the frame—white, middle-aged, and very Southern.

On the left was a man around forty or fifty, bald with a greasy brown beard that was turning white around the chin. His expression was mean, and his face screamed trouble. On the right was a woman who looked slightly younger, but her hardened features and heavy jowls marked her as equally formidable.

They looked exactly like the stereotypical Southern rednecks—rough, angry, unpolished. The kind of people you'd think twice about crossing in a bar brawl.

Despite having served as police chief for two years now, Stevenson still looked like the same nervous wreck from the past, especially in front of the FBI agents—especially Jack. Who could blame him? Jack and Braxton had once turned his house into a warzone, gunning down Dawson and Officer Beck right in the kitchen and living room (Chapter 183).

Stevenson had spent so long scrubbing blood from his floor that he couldn’t think about it without dry heaving. The memory had scarred him for life.

Now he tried to steady the laser pointer in his trembling hand, clearing his throat loudly before beginning the briefing.

“Teddy and Janice Bodette were a married trucker couple. Last night, they were found dead inside their truck, parked in a remote area off I-85 at the Georgia-Alabama state line. The cargo container hitched to the truck had been broken into, and some goods were stolen—including a shipment of tablets ordered by Margrave Middle School for their summer online program. So, good news: the kids are getting a proper vacation.”

Already easing into his role, Stevenson finished his report with a dark joke.

“Well, for the kids’ sake, we better crack this one quickly,” Jubal responded with a dry smile, confirming the FBI would take over the case.

“Because the crime occurred across state lines, it’s now a federal case. Jeje, get in touch with the DOT and inform them the FBI will handle the investigation.”

Jeje stood and left the room with her phone. Jack, meanwhile, was thinking ahead. The crime scene wasn’t even in Margrave PD’s jurisdiction—how had they gotten the details so quickly?

Stevenson had a straightforward answer. “The trucking company the couple worked for is based here in Margrave. They came to us first and asked for immediate help. Roscoe thought of you guys right away.”

“And now trucking companies suddenly care this much? Even though insurance covers the loss?” Aubrey raised a skeptical eyebrow.

More photos appeared on the screen. Stevenson’s face turned grim. “From the scene, it appears the couple were killed outside the vehicle and then placed back inside. Janice was found laid flat on the bed in the sleeper cabin. There’s no confirmation of sexual assault yet, but she was fully clothed. Teddy, meanwhile, was strapped to the driver’s seat with duct tape.”

Clay leaned in, pointing at something in a photo. “What’s that on the dashboard?”

“That,” Stevenson said with visible discomfort, “is one of Teddy’s ears. Both were sliced off.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Everyone exchanged glances—this wasn’t just a robbery. It was a message.

“Cause of death?” Aubrey asked, now fully engaged.

“Janice was shot. Teddy was stabbed. No shell casings were found at the scene—likely picked up by the killer.”

Stevenson handed out case files to each agent. The crime was growing more intricate by the second. The method of killing was too deliberate to be random.

“What was in the trailer, exactly?” Hannah asked.

“Mostly electronics. Multiple distributors were using the same shipment. The tablets for the middle school were just one order. We're still waiting on a full manifest from the company—it should be in soon.”

He spread his hands, signaling that was all he knew for now.

“Doesn’t sound like a highway robbery to me,” Aubrey said, laying down the first hypothesis. “Most thieves wouldn’t bother repositioning the bodies.”

Clay agreed. “And both victims were pretty big people. Moving their corpses back into the truck would’ve taken serious effort.”

“Looks more like they pissed off the wrong people,” Hannah added, resting her chin on her hand. “Cutting off ears? Maybe they didn’t listen to a warning—or ignored an ultimatum.”

Veteran agent Jubal finally weighed in. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Long-haul trucking is a messy business. Between unions and gangs, there’s plenty of bad blood. Union vs. union. Gang vs. gang. Even union vs. gang.”

“But shouldn’t there be dashcam footage?” Jack asked, turning toward Alice. By now, Jeje had returned and she and Alice had already contacted the Georgia and Alabama state police.

“According to Alabama state police, the truck’s dashcam was shut off at a rest area twenty miles from the crime scene,” Alice reported, shrugging. “My cousin’s a trucker. I don’t know much about the job, but I do know drivers hate being tracked by their bosses. Still, there’s not much they can do about it.”

“Sounds familiar,” Jack chuckled, drawing knowing laughter from the room.

FBI agents' phones stayed on 24/7 and tracked their every move. Even those without Jack’s troublemaking streak found it a bit much.

Jack continued, “Notice the behavioral contradiction? Stabbing someone to death is impulsive, emotional. But the killer also came prepared with a gun—used it on Janice—and had the discipline to pick up the casings. So either we’re dealing with a professional acting out of rage, or two separate offenders.”

Jubal clapped his hands to get things moving. “Let’s get to it. I suspect the truck was hijacked at that rest stop, and the couple forced to drive to a remote location before being killed.”

He began assigning roles. “Let’s all head over to the local trucking company first. Then Jack, Clay, and Aubrey—you three will hit both scenes. Jeje and Hannah, coordinate with the state police and the Teamsters. See what you can dig up on this couple.”

Looks like this "small problem" in Margrave might be anything but.