Carr moistened his lips. “No one with that kind of voice has contacted me. Let me be a part of this investigation. I can help. The killer won’t suspect me.”
“You aren’t trained, and it’s too dangerous. Out of the question, and I don’t want to bury a friend.”
He chuckled, the deep resonating sound that she’d grown to welcome. “Glad to hear you’d miss me.”
“This isn’t a child’s game, Carr.”
“I figured that out when Jasper and I found those bodies. The more I think about it, the more complicated it gets. You came here looking to arrest me or Brandt Richardson for the murders. Possibly both of us. So in addition to four dead men, who shot out your tires, planted a rattler in your bed, returned my rifle, left a note on your windshield, and whatever else he’s done?”
“If I had answers to those questions, I wouldn’t be here.”
“What else has happened?”
“Small change.”
“Aye, a stubborn woman you are,” he said with a thick Irish brogue. “You must possess a handful of four-leaf clovers, or the bad guys wouldn’t be wasting their time.”
“Nice to think I can scare them.”
“I don’t want you as a statistic on the FBI’s hero list. I did my own research on Brandt Richardson, and I’m perturbed only two agents were sent to conduct the investigation, and one of them isn’t even around. Is this a part of economic cutbacks?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You and my aunt Debbie would get along just fine.”
“If she’s concerned about your ornery hide, I imagine so.”
“Now you sound like a local.”
“Good. Nothing worse than being shunned in the community because of your city-slicker ways.” His features softened. “I have another motive. When this is over, I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better.”
A strange sensation snaked up from her stomach to her throat, rendering her speechless, and it had nothing to do with the case. She hadn’t seen his interest coming, and thus she refused to respond.
“Your face is red,” he said.
“It’s a first.”
“To blush or for a suspect to want to court you?”
She laughed. “Court? As in the nineteenth century?”
“Whatever it takes.” He nodded as though accenting his words. “I’m serious.”
“Interest in me isn’t a good idea.” What if Carr had read her emotions?
“Let me be the judge of what’s a good idea or not.”
The importance of maneuvering Carr from this topic crept to the forefront of her mind. “I need to talk to Lydia. She recognized me, and I haven’t addressed it properly.”
“Sure. But I’m not apologizing for making you feel uncomfortable.”
“I didn’t think you would.” Maybe things would change when this was over. But until then, Carr was off-limits in the romance department.
Chapter 21
When Brandt was fourteen years old and read the side of a cigarette pack, he saw those expensive nuggets that made him look cool could kill him, so he threw the cigarettes away. Hadn’t touched one since.
When he read his body might last longer if he jogged, he bought a pair of running shoes, and he still had the body of a twenty-year-old. Except for his left knee.
When he realized his four-point average could land him a free ride in college, he dug into the books and now held a degree in business and a minor in history.
When he learned about a lost Spanish treasure buried somewhere in the triangle of Aspermont, Rotan, and Clyde, Texas, he decided the cache of $64 million in gold belonged to him.
And fourteen years ago, when he first saw Rachel Bella Warick, he knew she had to be his. He craved—no, needed—the green-eyed beauty.
He intended to have the gold and Rachel. Yet neither was in his awaiting hands. But he was growing closer, and he could taste and smell the sweetness of pure bliss.
Chapter 22
Halfway back to the hotel on Friday evening, Bella considered pulling over and reading the information on her BlackBerry about Stanton and Mair Warick, but she wanted to give the report her full attention. With the highway winding ahead of her, Bella’s mind drifted back to when her father married Mair. He’d promised Bella their new life would be like a storybook. What a joke. She wanted to believe there’d been good times during her childhood, but she couldn’t remember them.
Bella’s siblings had been on her mind since she first took on the assignment in Houston. But how did she right all of those years when she’d deserted them? She’d been selfish in not making contact. Ty, Alex, Zack, and Anne. Beautiful children. She’d missed them terribly in the beginning. Would she recognize any of those angelic faces from the past? If their lives had been anything like her first fifteen, they needed encouragement and support—and counseling. She was in a position to take care of them, and it was time she began.
She pulled her car into the hotel parking lot, weary and needing a break from the stress of an unsolved murder case. Tomorrow, she and Carr planned an early morning horseback ride to take the edge off the stress of the case and begin the weekend.
Bella had no intentions of burning daylight on the FBI’s dollar, and she had plenty of work to do once they finished. She’d take clothes to shower and change before enjoying one of Lydia’s mouthwatering breakfasts. Lots of leads were on tomorrow’s lists, including an afternoon drive to Austin to see Yvonne Taylor again.
Carr promised to show her a sunrise unsurpassed by any she’d ever seen. He must have forgotten she’d spent the first fifteen years of her life under those sunrises. Memories of nature’s beauty had slipped from her thoughts along with any semblance of pleasantness.
Tonight, she’d load up on caffeine and work late on those puzzle pieces that she and Carr had attempted to fit together. But first she wanted to read e-mails and study the report on Stanton and Mair Warick.
At the hotel, she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, grabbed her laptop, and hurried inside. She greeted the female attendant behind the desk, the one who had claimed to be the manager, and made her way to the elevator and second floor. As the elevator closed, a man dressed in a gray silk suit stepped in behind her, with silver-rimmed glasses and eyebrows that were joined in the middle. He smiled and she returned the gesture, noting she could have seen her reflection in his glasses.
“Have a good evening.” She exited the elevator on her floor.
When he didn’t respond, she jerked back to see why. In the crack of the closing door, the man offered a slight nod. Instantly, Bella realized the man was Brandt Richardson.
She pressed the elevator button up, but her reflexes weren’t fast enough and the door closed. Racing down the hall, she flung open the door to the stairs and took two steps at a time up. By the time she stood in front of the next floor’s elevator, Brandt had disappeared. She shifted the laptop and shoulder bag and rushed down the steps to the lobby, but no one had seen a man in a gray business suit.
He could be a guest.
How many other times had she encountered Brandt and not realized he was following her? Surprise did not assault her, only the frustration that Brandt had continued to outsmart her. The dreadful cat-and-mouse game.
The implication seized her, and fear dug its claws into her heart. Brandt had planned the encounter on the elevator. He could have killed her, and no one ever would have known. In the past when she worked at outthinking a criminal, she took all the findings about him and slipped into his shoes. In this case, size twelve. The same size as her father’s. They were working together. She was positive.
* * *
Carr looked forward to tomorrow’s ride with Bella like a kid who anticipated a birthday surprise. She’d be at the ranch by 5:45, and they’d grab a cup of coffee before saddling up to leave by daybreak. They’d ride east into the sunrise—Bella and the sunrise, two beauties who were equally breathtaking. One he could only admire from a distance, and the other would ride beside him, off-limits until her investigation cleared both of their lives.
Not since before finding the three victims had he looked forward to anything with enthusiasm. The deaths he regretted, and he mourned losing Darren. Soon this would be over. All of the families involved needed closure, and the murderer needed to be in custody.
Carr leafed through the stack of mail on his desk. Most of it could be tossed into the trash unopened. An envelope bearing his church denomination’s return address captured his attention. Rather than ponder its contents with the understanding he’d not contacted them since the ordeal started, he lifted the flap of the envelope and listened to it crack and complain.
Dear Mr. Sullivan,
It has been brought to our attention that you are being investigated for three homicides found on your property. I’m sure you will understand the necessity of our stance in this grave matter.
Carr shook his head at the bad pun before he continued reading.
Until the situation is resolved, we cannot endorse your application for the facility housing and rehabilitating at-risk teen boys. In addition we cannot offer financial assistance. We wish you success with your endeavor.
“Cowards.” He resisted the urge to crumple the letter in his fists. They couldn’t pick up the phone and talk about the crimes that had taken place on his property.
He inwardly groaned, feeling like he’d been kicked in the teeth. What good did it do him to have these thousands of acres if he couldn’t use them for the glory of God? The bunkhouse had already been renovated with a full, new kitchen to accommodate twenty boys. He’d received estimates to construct a building that would house an auditorium and game area. He’d walked an area beside the proposed auditorium for an Olympic-size swimming pool and basketball court. Now it all was put on hold.
The whole ugly mess regarding the murders made him want to sink his fist into the wall. He wouldn’t, but the temptation made his fingers tingle.
Lydia appeared in the doorway. “I heard you pound your desk, so I thought I’d check on you.”
“Did I?” He lifted a brow. “Must have affected me worse than I thought.”
“What?”
“Oh, the endorsement and funding from my denomination has been withdrawn. I’ll need to contact the psychologist we hired, the physical activities director, and the teacher.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. So they canceled everything?”
“No, they need the situation resolved, which isn’t that bad. Can’t blame them in the least. Who wants a killer attempting to rehabilitate the hope of the future?”
“I’m sure it will get back on track once the investigation reveals who is responsible.” Lydia slipped into a chair across from him. “Aren’t Bella or Vic any closer to solving the crimes?”
“Haven’t seen Vic, and if Bella has made progress, she hasn’t let on.”
“What did you and I talk about before all of this began?”
“Pleasant things. And we debated our political differences.”
“And quite adamantly, as I remember.” Lydia smiled, and it coaxed one from him. “Our discussions made Jasper nervous.”
“I believe, given the choice, he’d rather have our politics on the forefront than what’s there now.” He stuffed the rejection letter into the envelope and dropped it into a desk drawer. “Bella and I are going riding early in the morning.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea. She looks pale and tired, and the ride should relax her.”
“I’m taking her to the butte and back. Won’t be long.” He studied Lydia’s face. “Do you think that’s a mistake?”
“The butte provides the best view of a beautiful sunrise. It was breathtaking before the killings and will continue to bless us.”
Good.
“My thoughts too.”
“She’s a good match for you—sweet when she needs to be sweet and firm when the occasion arises.”
“Hadn’t thought about it that much.”
Lydia laid her hand on the desktop. “The first step is admitting there’s a crisis of the heart.”
He laughed. “Her confession about living here must have gotten to you. You’re a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“I’m a woman, remember?” She rose from the chair. “Seriously, I’m sorry about the letter. I’m praying for all of this to end and bring our lives back to normal. God wants you to learn from the tragedies, but I have no idea what or why.”
“Jasper and I discussed the same. The only path forward is to trust God and realize He wants the best for me.”
Lydia left him alone, but restlessness filled him. The silence that usually blessed him with peace now thundered in his ears. He had plenty to do outside. Anything beat trying to outguess God.
He rubbed his fist in his hand. He wanted to help those boys, show at-risk teens how to follow Jesus and be real men. Disappointment cut through him like a bolt of lightning. If God had something better in store, then he sure wished He would give him a preview.
Chapter 23
After searching her hotel room like someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder for anything Brandt might have done or left behind, Bella washed her face and resolved to shake off the reality of the stalking demon. Trained professionals used their training, not their scarred pasts. This wasn’t the time to allow emotions of any kind to take precedence over her assignment.
She scrolled through her e-mails, looking for the report about Stanton and Mair Warick. And there it was. She clicked on the message and fixed her eyes on every word. Once she finished the report, she stood from the chair and walked to the window. Rubbing the chill bumps from her arms, she mentally fit a corner piece into the crime picture.
Mair left the country with Brandt twelve years ago. She’d been seen last in Rio de Janeiro as well as Peru.
Recent findings revealed the woman now went under the name of Lynne Michaels and had successfully dodged the FBI’s radar.
Peru . . . as in the source of the poison that killed Darren Adams.
When Bella had read the report in Houston, she’d skimmed over the information about Brandt’s leaving the U.S. twelve years ago with a woman. She hadn’t probed to find out the woman’s name, and neither did she have the foresight to deepen the research. After all, the woman had disappeared. According to the original report, Brandt and the woman had parted company a few years ago. Bella had allowed her personal feelings to get in the way of the investigation.
Vic had been right. So right. Shame filled her for what she’d failed to do or accomplish with this assignment. No wonder Brandt had successfully implemented his plan.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
As of right now, Bella’s method of investigation was changing.
Bella’s siblings were being raised by a selfish animal—their father. Stanton Warick could have killed all of those victims on Carr’s ranch, including Darren. He currently worked as a foreman on a cattle ranch, where he lived with his children. His record was clean of arrests or suspicions, except for a DUI after Mair left him.
She picked up her cell phone and pressed in Tiffany Adams’s number. The woman answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Tiffany, this is Bella Jordan. I’m sorry to bother you, but a recent development has come to my attention.”
“What . . . what is it?” The woman’s voice shattered. “Have you found out who poisoned Darren?”
“I’m getting closer. Are you okay?”
“Some days are better than others. It’s all part of the process. We’re all grieving, and each of us has our own way of showing it. I want to help you, so please ask what you need.”
“Did Darren ever mention Stanton Warick?”
“Darren didn’t talk work with me. He was afraid it would upset me, a habit he started years ago. But the name sounds familiar. Hold on a minute.”
Bella waited while Tiffany asked whoever was nearby if the name Stanton Warick was familiar.
“Agent Jordan? I just asked my sons about the name. They said two boys with the name of Warick are basketball rivals from a neighboring high school.”
Bella scolded herself for trembling. “Ty and Alex?”
Tiffany repeated the names, and Bella heard a young man respond affirmatively.
“Do they know if the boys are often in trouble with the law?”
Tiffany posed the question, and Bella waited again.
“Neither of them thinks so. In fact, Ty was a junior high counselor at church camp last summer.”
Bella’s stomach did a flip. Maybe one of the kids had come through this okay. “Thanks so much. If anything comes to mind about the Waricks, would you call me?”
Bella disconnected the call and laid the phone beside her laptop. She reread her father’s background check. Brandt had broken up her father’s marriage. Mair had deserted her four children and left them with Stanton. As though her father knew anything about rearing kids. Could he and Brandt possibly have mended their differences with Mair absent from the picture? What if the two of them were leading her brothers and sister down the same greedy path? Maybe not Ty.
The longer she peered at the screen, the more she faced the ugly truth about herself. As soon as she finished her ride with Carr in the morning, she planned to take a drive to see her brothers and sister. Destiny had arrived. Why had she waited? Fear? Selfishness? Did she think by ignoring them, her family would disappear? Regret rippled through her for ignoring those who needed her. What Aunt Debbie had done for her, she could do for them. It would be hard, but investing in the future of her siblings was the least she could do. If she faced the truth head-on, she realized she needed them as much as they needed her.
Stanton Warick.
His parting words had been a threat, and she hadn’t forgotten a single word. But hadn’t she claimed courage a long time ago? The analyst’s report had an address and a phone number for her father. She wrapped her fingers around her cell phone and took another thirty seconds to gather strength. Her heart sped up to match her thoughts. Finally she pressed in the numbers. A young man answered on the second ring.
“Ty?”
“No. This is Alex.”
She swallowed her nervousness. “This is Rachel. Your sister.”
“Hey. Dad said you went by Bella now.”
“I do. Are y’all going to be around tomorrow late morning? I’d like to stop by and see you.”
“Awesome. What time’s good? We’ll be here.”
“Great. Ten thirty sounds good.” Bella moistened her dry lips. She’d been less shaken when criminals were shooting at her.
“Can’t wait. We’ve been following the investigation. You rock, Sister.”
Bella forced a chuckle while too many thoughts chased through her mind about how and why her siblings were following the case. She ended the call and drank in several deep breaths.
After working through the rest of her e-mails, Bella opened a message from Aunt Debbie. Oh, how she needed to hear the voice of her dear aunt, even if it was in an e-mail. She didn’t dare call, or she’d cry, and then Aunt Debbie would find her way to Abilene. That would never do. Bella could only imagine the life her brothers and sister had spent with their father, knowing their mother had left them for a fugitive.
The subject of the message read,
A long dog’s night
.
Hi, Bella!
The longer you are on this case, the longer I spend time on my knees. I find myself remembering the years when you first came to me, the frightened and determined fifteen-year-old, and the fine woman you’ve become.
Everything here is okay, but I had a bad night. The cat somehow got into the house, and you know how I despise cats in the house. Can’t sleep right knowing those sneaky little varmints are prowling about. Anyway, the cat must have decided to get even with my banishing her to the outside. She did her business in the bathroom—at least she had the right room. I woke up to a frightful smell and had to chase her around the house three times before I could catch her. Then I had to clean up the mess before I could go back to sleep.
Shortly after midnight, Rockefeller decided if the cat could enlist her free spirit, it was okay for him too.
It wasn’t.
I sent him to his kennel. About four o’clock, Rockefeller’s crying got the best of me, so I got up and let him out. We talked. Everybody is happy again.
I know you can’t tell me everything about the case, but can you fudge a little and fill in some of the details for this middle-aged lady who’s glued to the news? I’m ready to set the media straight about their bizarre accusations.
Have you seen your dad, Mair, or your brothers and sister?
Love,
Your zany aunt Debbie
“Tomorrow, I will have much to report,” Bella whispered.