Authors: Lynda Bailey
“
A little
?” He chuckled then sobered. “I like the
idea of moving to Vegas, but a baby?” He shook his head. “I’m too old for a
baby.”
“Nonsense. You’re not too old. And think of how great it’d
be for Wyatt to have a little brother or sister to pester and protect. I know
Dell is a major pain in the butt, but I wouldn’t change having him as my big
brother for anything in the world.” She took his hand again. “I know you didn’t
have a brother, but you were close to your older cousin, weren’t you?”
“Very. Until he died…”
“Then you understand the special bond that exists between
siblings. Just promise you’ll think about it, okay?”
He smiled. “All right. I promise to think about it.”
Shasta jumped to her feet and wound her arms around his
neck. Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered against his neck.
Laughing, Graham returned her hug. “I didn’t say yes, only
that I’d think about it.”
“I know.” She settled into her seat. “But you also didn’t
say no.”
Graham picked up his fork holding the forgotten heap of
potato salad and resumed eating, as did Shasta, though she didn’t taste
anything. Her chest and heart felt so…full. So happy. A chance existed she and
Graham would have a baby, and she’d take that any day.
Once the lunch dishes were stacked in the dishwasher, she
leaned against the table and checked her watch. “Guess I should mosey back to
work.”
Graham tossed the dishtowel onto the counter. “Any chance
you can play hooky for the rest of the afternoon? We could pick up Wyatt and
head to the cabin. The three of us.”
She smiled. “Ohh. I love that idea. I've got some paperwork
to finish, but it shouldn’t take too long.” She bent over with her best pouty,
beseeching expression. “Would you mind terribly waiting?”
He pulled his mouth into a mock frown. “Well, I don’t know…”
“Pretty please?” She batted her eyelashes.
He laughed. “Of course I’ll wait. It’ll give me the chance
to get caught up on everything that’s been happening since I've been gone so
much this past month.”
“It’s settled then.” She kissed him then straightened. “I’ll
get my purse and we can go.”
Less than ten minutes later, Graham steered his van in the
handicapped spot at the stationhouse and cut the engine. Shasta unclipped her
seatbelt and got out while he maneuvered his chair to the hydraulic lift. She
waited for him to exit the vehicle then ambled up to the entrance alongside his
wheelchair. Inside, she waved to Joan and walked to her desk while Graham
headed for Dell’s office.
The squad room didn’t look much different than it had over
the last week and a half. Dark-suited FBI agents still sat at random desks
working Todd Weedly’s murder case. Shasta crammed the paperwork she’d finish
tomorrow into a drawer as her husband approached.
“Perfect timing.” She grabbed her purse and stood. “I’m all
done.”
“Yes, but it appears I’m not.”
“What are you talking about?”
Graham placed his elbows on his armrests and sighed, an
uncharacteristically fierce scowl on his face. “Seems Adam decided to take a
last minute vacation leaving your brother in a lurch—legally speaking.”
Shasta raised her eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound at all like
Adam.”
“I know. But he did. In fact he didn’t even call in. He
texted his secretary. And with everything that’s been going on.” Graham shook
his head. “What an ass.”
“So what’s this got to do with you?”
“There’s a suspect in interrogation with his lawyer and your
brother wants me in on the interview. An assistant DA is on his way from Reno,
but Dell thought so long as I was here…”
Shasta squinted at her brother’s office. “He could take
advantage of you.”
“Something like that. But I told Dell you and I had plans
for the afternoon and that you’d have to okay this.”
She sighed. “How long do you think?”
“Hard to say. It’s a murder charge.”
Her breath caught. “Murder? Did they find who killed Todd?”
“No. This has to do with something that happened last night.
So what do you say?”
“I say my brother is awful for imposing on you.” She placed
her purse back on her desk and pulled out the files from the drawer. “But I can
see this is important to you.” She sat down. “And I really should finish my
paperwork anyway.”
Graham grasped her hand and pulled her close for a chaste
kiss. “Thank you,” he murmured before releasing her. He pivoted himself around.
“This really shouldn’t take too long. Like I said another DA is in route.”
She watched her husband wheel toward the interview room, a
smile on her face. Her chest felt all…fuzzy. Normally Graham would have done
the interview without a second thought to any plans he might have had with her
and Wyatt. The fact he’d asked for her input thrilled her. With luck she and
her husband and their son would still be able to spend part of the afternoon
together.
Graham opened the door to the interrogation room and swung
it wide enough to accommodate his wheelchair. Shasta caught a glimpse of
familiar blond hair, and her body went rigid…like she’d been flash frozen.
Was that Lynch?
No…it couldn’t be. Graham had said this was a murder case.
And Lynch couldn’t possibly be in custody for murder. Could he?
She must’ve misunderstood or she didn’t see what she thought
she saw. But she needed to check it out…just to be sure. On unsteady legs, she
stood and walked toward the viewing room.
She slipped inside and three agents turned from the one-way
mirror to look at her. With her hand on the door, she gave them a wan smile,
and was about to turn tail, when she noticed the wastebasket overflowing with
discarded Styrofoam coffee cups. Mustering confidence she didn’t much feel, she
grabbed the basket as Agent Jarvis’s voice came over the speakers.
“You don’t have an ounce of solid evidence. It’s all
circumstantial.”
“That may be true,” she heard Graham say, “but it’s more
than sufficient to convince a judge to hold Mr. Callan for twenty-four hours.”
Reaching out her hand, Shasta steadied herself against the
wall. Lynch
was
the suspect. She cast a fleeting look to the agents in
the room. They all stared at the mirror, ignoring her. She stayed very quiet
and listened to the conversation…
“A lot can happen in twenty-four hours to a guy in lockup,”
her brother mocked.
“Are you threatening my client?” Jarvis demanded.
“Cut the lawyer client crap, will ya?” Dell retorted.
“You’re an FBI agent.”
“
And
a lawyer. Wanna see my degree?”
“What I want is Lynch Callan back behind bars.”
“That’s enough,” her husband interrupted.
Thank God Graham’s in there…
“Let’s review the facts, shall we Agent Jarvis?” Graham
continued. “Jack Martin, aka Bowyer, was a member of the 5th Street biker gang
and a known associate of your client. And your client quite probably blames him
for the deaths of Rolo Pruett and Hez Hernandez. Given the fact Mr. Martin and
two other Streeters were murdered around one a.m. last night and that your
client doesn’t have an alibi, you can—”
Shasta didn’t hear the rest. She barreled from the viewing
room and straight into interrogation. “Wait—”
Dell, Jarvis and Lynch jumped to their feet at her abrupt
entrance.
“
Jesus
,” her brother roared, stabilizing himself with
a hand on the table. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Lynch is innocent.”
Graham veered his chair around to face her. “Shasta,
sweetheart, you need to go.”
“But I’m telling you Lynch didn’t kill anyone last night.”
“And you know this how?” Jarvis asked.
Shasta looked at Lynch. He slumped in his chair, a hand on
his face.
“Because I was with him.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE
RESULTING QUIET
flayed Shasta’s eardrums. She wrapped her arms around
her middle to mask her trembling.
Dell’s mouth fell open, and he stumbled backwards into his
chair. “What did you say?”
“I said I was with Lynch last night. All night.” She rolled
her lips together. “And he was still sleeping when I left his trailer this
morning at five-thirty.”
Jarvis cleared her throat into the yawning silence.
“Well…seeing as my client now has an alibi, we’ll be going.” She picked up her
briefcase. “C’mon Callan.”
Shasta shifted to the side, staring at the floor, as Jarvis
and Lynch walked out. Her brother stood, grabbed his cane then hobbled to the
door. He paused beside her, but said nothing. Then he too left, leaving her
with her husband.
Graham wheeled himself until he sat directly in front of
her. She inched her gaze up to meet his. The anger and hurt in his eyes twisted
her stomach.
“Is this why you suddenly wanted a baby?”
“What? No—”
“You were hoping to pawn off another one of your mistakes
onto me, weren’t you?” His caustic tone ripped at her heart.
Tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she
vehemently shook her head. “No, Graham. I swear.”
He winced and rubbed his fingers to his temples.
She squatted down. “Another headache? Here…let me.” She
reached for him.
He jerked away. “Don’t.”
She clasped her hands together at his snarled command.
Graham lowered his hands. Tension rippled along his jaw
line. “Ask your brother for a ride home. I’m going to the house to get some
things then I’ll stay at the cabin until further notice.” He grabbed the knob.
“But what about your afternoon plans with Wyatt?”
He hesitated.
She awkwardly shuffled toward him. “I understand you’re
angry with me. Furious even, and you have every right to be. But please,
please, please don’t take it out on Wyatt.”
Graham heaved a breath. “Fine. I’ll still pick him up and
take him to the cabin.” He sliced his gaze to hers. “
Without
you.”
She bowed her head while her husband wheeled himself from
the room. She plopped onto her butt, her face buried in her hands.
What in God’s name did she just do?
~*~
L
ynch trailed behind Jarvis
from interrogation and into the sheriff’s office. He grabbed his cut off a
chair as the agent closed the door and leaned against it, her arms crossed.
“If you had an alibi for last night, why the hell didn’t
tell me?”
He popped his tight neck muscles. “I had my reasons.”
She shoved from the door. “Yeah. Like protecting the
reputation of another man’s wife.” She shook her head with a small laugh. “And
here I didn’t think gangbangers had ethics.”
“Well apparently some of us do,” he ground out. “Can we go
now?”
“Sure.”
Jarvis opened the door—and in limped Dell.
The sheriff tossed his cane to the floor then backed Lynch
against the wall, his forearm to the biker’s throat. “You fucked my sister?”
Jarvis seized Dell’s arm. “What the hell are you doing? Let
him go.”
Dell pressed on Lynch’s windpipe, his face twisted with
rage. “You fucked her like one of your skank bitches?”
Stars clouded Lynch’s vision, but he had no leverage to
propelled Dell off him.
Jarvis wrenched harder. “Sheriff Albright…
let
…
him
…
go
.”
Abruptly, Dell released the pressure.
Lynch bent forward, coughing and gasping, massaging his
throat. Once he’d caught his breath, he straightened.
The sheriff thrust his finger at him. “Stay away from my
sister or I will fucking kill you.”
Lynch couldn’t blame a brother for defending his sister. If
the situation were reversed, he’d feel the exact same way.
Jarvis positioned herself between the two men. “Settle
down.”
A loud knock turned everyone’s attention. Newman stood in
the doorway, a cell in his hand. “Um…sorry to interrupt.” He cast a nervous
glance to everyone in the room then looked at Jarvis. “But the Portland office
is on the phone for you.” He handed the phone to Jarvis and left, closing the
office door quietly behind him.
“This is Special Agent Emma Jarvis,” she said into the
phone. “Yes…what can you tell me, Agent Romanski?” As she listened, her hand
reached out and clutched the chair back with whitening fingers. “All of them?”
Her high-pitched voice shriveled Lynch’s stomach. The news
must not be good.
She pivoted, her wide-eyed gaze holding his. “I understand.
Yes…thank you for calling…good-bye.” She disconnected the call, and the
normally stoic Agent Jarvis looked to be fighting tears.
“What happened?” Lynch asked.
She cleared her throat. “Um…well…the tip on Junkyard
Taylor’s half-sister paid off. Turned out her father’s family owned a small industrial
park that had been vacant for years. That’s where the girls were found.
Twenty-three of them.” Her shoulders lifted on a big inhale. “All safe.”
His mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “Seriously. Of the four men guarding the girls,
two were killed at the scene, but the other two are alive, at the local
hospital and—most importantly—talking. This could be the break we’ve been
hoping for against Blackwell.” She smiled the first genuine smile Lynch ever
remembered her having. “And it’s thanks to you, Callan. You’re a hero.”
“Good God,” Dell grunted as he bent over and reclaimed his
cane.
Jarvis’s smile became an instant scowl. “Problem, Sheriff?”
Dell scowled back. “Yeah.” He pointed to the squad room.
Lynch watched Graham Dupree veer around the desks on his way
to the front entrance. Minus Shasta. Remorse knotted his chest,
“Callan a hero?” the sheriff scoffed. “The bastard took
advantage of my sister.”
Jarvis planted her hands her hips. “If that’s true, why
isn’t she pressing charges?”
Not answering, Dell shambled behind his desk and flopped
into his chair.
Jarvis picked up her briefcase and opened the door. “Let’s
go, Callan.” Outside the office, she gripped his arm as they walked to the
entrance. “I don’t give a shit what Albright says…to those girls and their
families, you and the Streeters
are
heroes.”
He shrugged off her compliment. “Not heroes, counselor. Just
criminals. With, as you put it, criminal minds. So what’s next?”
“Well, there’s paperwork—”
“What’s next for me?”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not exactly sure…”
“While you figure that out, I’ll be at the clubhouse.”
“That’s not a good idea. Not with Blackwell still at large.”
“No place is safer than the clubhouse, counselor…believe
me.” He held the front door for her.
“Really?” Jarvis walked through then turned, her head
tilted. “You’ll be safe surrounded by people you were informing on to the FBI?”
“Gonna hafta face the music sometime.” He donned his cut.
“Might as well be when I've got good news to share. ‘Sides, they’re family.
After everything that’s happened, I need to be around them…no matter the
outcome.”
Jarvis hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. At least I’ll know
where you’re at. And you’re to call me the instant anything happens, understand?”
A small, ironic grin torqued his mouth. “Whatever you say,
counselor.”
But he wouldn’t do anything of the kind.
~*~
S
hasta stared numbly at the
paper in her hand, but didn’t read the words.
After Graham left, she stayed in the interrogation room
asking God to strike her dead. When no divine intervention happened, she
shuffled out to her desk, ignoring all the pointed stares, where she’d stayed
for the past four hours.
Self-loathing burned in her throat and eyes. Not only had
she shamed herself, she also embarrassed the hell out of Dell. But the worst
part was hurting Graham. The only person to have done more for her than her
father.
And she trampled his feelings.
She prayed the truth about the situation—about her being
with Lynch—would remain a secret. Graham definitely didn’t deserve that to be
fodder for the gossips in Stardust. Dell plopping into the chair next to her
desk interrupted her thoughts.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” she answered. “You need something?”
“Yeah. My office.”
She glanced across the squad room to see Jarvis and several
other agents congregated behind the closed door. “What’s going on in your
office?”
He picked up the Mother’s Day pencil holder Wyatt made out
of a soup can. “Dunno. Some conference call with the FBI bigwigs in
Washington.”
She plucked the memento from his fingers and set it back
down. “And you weren’t invited?”
“Bingo.” He folded his hands in his lap. “You talk to
Graham?”
Tears gathered in her eyes. She sat taller. “Not since he
left. He took Wyatt to the cabin and there’s no cell service there. Can you
give me a ride home?”
Dell sighed. “I can’t help but think if I hadn’t asked him
to sit in on Callan’s interrogation…”
Her brother’s remorse surprised her. “What happened isn’t
your fault.”
He grunted. “I know. It’s Callan’s.”
Confusion knitted her brow. “Lynch’s? How you figure?”
“Because he took advantage of you.”
“Took advantage of me? What do you think happened? That he
threw me over his shoulder and forced me to his trailer?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Well…so long as you brought up the
topic, how exactly
did
you end up there?”
She held her brother’s gaze. “Ever consider that maybe I
went there of my own volition?”
Dell’s complexion flushed red.
“Of course you didn’t,” Shasta quipped. “Because that wouldn’t
fit your opinion that I’m still a teenager in need of protection or that Lynch
is a low-life gangbanger.” She canted forward and narrowed her eyes. “Contrary
to your belief, I’m a grown woman, able to make my own decisions. And mistakes.
Besides, if Lynch is such a bad guy, how come—when charged with
murder
—he
didn’t say I was with him last night?”
Her brother’s nostrils flared, his mouth pulled into a harsh
frown.
“If I hadn’t outted myself, you’d be none the wiser, would
you?”
He glanced away with a noisy inhale. The muscle twitched in
his cheek. “That doesn’t change who Callan is.”
“You’re right. It just proves he was never as terrible as
you made him out to be. As you
wanted
him to be.” She noticed Jarvis
opening the office door. “Looks like the FBI party is over.” She picked up her
pen. “I've got work.”
She’d never spoken to him like that. So…dismissive. Rude
even. But she didn’t care. The time had come for her dear brother to stop
holding onto past grudges and misconceptions. He needed to realize the truth
about Lynch—and about her.
Jarvis walked up. “Thanks for the use of your office,
Sheriff.”
Dell smirked as he struggled from his chair. “Anything for
the cause, right? Now if there’s nothing else…”
The agent blocked his exit. “Actually…there is something
else.” She rested her hands on her hips. “I've been instructed to place you in
protective custody.”
“Protective custody?” Dell railed. “What the hell for?”
“For your protection. Obviously,” she replied dryly.
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t need protecting.”
Jarvis shook her head. “It’s been my experience that when a
crime syndicate is threatened, anyone associated with the case can be in
danger.”
“What about your star witness? Lynch Callan? Is he in
protective custody?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. He and the rest of the Streeters
are in lockdown at the Streeter clubhouse, and I've just sent two teams of
agents who’ll be posted outside.”
Dell leaned on his cane. “You don’t have the authority to
place me in anything, Agent Jarvis.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But the U.S. Attorney General’s
office does.” Jarvis inclined her head. “And this order comes directly
Washington, D.C.”
“Is my brother really in danger?” Shasta asked.
The agent looked at her. “It’s more a precaution, Mrs.
Dupree, but a necessary one. And to that point, the AG wants you and your
husband and son in protective custody as well.”
Shasta’s insides went cold. “Us?” She looked at Dell then
back to Jarvis. “But why? We’re not associated with anything.”
“It’s another safeguard,” Jarvis soothed, “ to include all
of Sheriff Albright’s family in the protective order. You know the old
saying…better to be safe than sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder and
signaled another agent. “Special Agent Newman will take you, your husband and
son to a safe house in Reno.”
Newman nodded to Shasta. “Ma’am.” He held the back of her
chair. “If you’ll come with me.”
Shasta stood on rickety legs. “This is happening right now?”
She fumbled with a folder in her desk. “But I can’t go now…I've got work to
finish.”
Jarvis took the file from her. “It’ll have to wait, Mrs.
Dupree. Agent Newman will take you home so you can pack a bag for the next day
or two. Is that where your husband and son are?”
“Um…no.” Shasta’s pulse skyrocketed. “Oh my God. They’re at
Graham’s cabin. In the woods. In the middle of nowhere.” She groped at the
bottom drawer of her desk for her purse. “And we have to get to them…
right
now
.”
Jarvis gripped Shasta’s arms in a firm hold. “Mrs. Dupree…I
need you to remain calm. Agent Newman will take you home first and then to the
cabin. He’s one of the FBI’s finest. He’ll take very good care of you and your
family, I assure you. All right?”
Shasta nodded, feeling like she was one of those bobblehead
dolls.
Jarvis’s smile took the slimmest edge off Shasta’s panic.
“Good.”