“What about forensics?”

“Particles of blood, hair, and skin were found in the den where the body was discovered. Most of it was on the couch where the body was laying, but there were also small amounts of hair and blood on the carpet, a lampshade, and a coffee table.” Frannie paused. “All of the DNA has been sent off to the crime lab in Nashville.”

Hank sighed, thought about taking another sip of coffee, and then changed his mind. He turned from the window, where the officers in the lobby were still working away, and looked at his chief deputy. “What else?”

“According to our investigation and the statement of Mr. Grimes, who’d visited the victim’s house on several occasions, the bedroom that Butch used as an office had a desk and a laptop computer.” She paused. “The computer is gone.”

“Prints?”

“Only two in that room.”

“The General and the victim,” he said, turning and looking at her.

She nodded, and her face was grave. “General Lewis’s prints were found on the doorknob and the desk.” Frannie approached the wall and stopped when she was a foot away from the sheriff. “Hank, when you take all of that and add in the victim’s last two text messages combined with the press release . . .” She pointed at the lone piece of paper on Hank’s desk. “. . . we have to do it.” Her voice had softened to just above a whisper. “I know how much you respect her, but we have to do our job.”

He groaned and leaned over his desk, looking close at the bond paper with the letterhead of “Frederick A. Renfroe, LLC” centered at the top. “We need a handwriting expert to examine the signature.”

“Already in the works. I’ve placed a call to Paul Graham over in Lawrenceburg. He’s the best in the area.”

Hank nodded, impressed as always with the thoroughness of his chief deputy’s work. “Remind me where the press release was found.”

“In a hidden safe behind a portrait of General Neyland in the den. Our team cracked the combination in less than an hour.”

Hank sighed. “What about the murder weapon?”

“There were no guns located at the scene other than a twelve-gauge shotgun and two hunting rifles, all registered to the victim.” She paused. “But the General owns a .44 Magnum and was practicing with it at Doug Brinkley’s shooting range a few hours before the murder.”

Hank raised his eyebrows. “You get a statement from Doug?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I’ve also gotten a warrant to search the General’s home and vehicle.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Hank, you’ve seen the texts that Butch sent General Lewis a few hours before the murder.”

“I have, and I agree that there’s an implied threat in both of them.”