The Trigger (13 page)

“What’s going on?” His brother hopped in the cart.

Surrounded by only crops and shrubs, Spencer still kept his voice down. “It’s Grace. I found her dead. Electrocuted.”

A pause. “That’s terrible.” Randall’s tone was a little flat.

The ugly thought came back, and Spencer had to ask, “Did you see Grace today? Or fight with her about something?”

“No. What are you implying?” Now Randall sounded tightly controlled.

Spencer sensed his brother had lied to him. But why? “If her death was an accident, then just tell me. I want to know what happened.”

“You said it yourself. She was electrocuted, so it must have been an accident.” Randall rubbed his hands on his head, a gesture Spencer hadn’t seen since they were children.

A finger of fear stabbed at his gut. Randall only lied to him when he was in crisis mode. If his brother had accidentally killed Grace in a hot-tempered moment, that could have pushed him to the edge. “Are you feeling all right? This is a stressful time for both of us.”

“I’m fine.”

Spencer stared, searching for the truth, but the dusk light masked Randall’s expression. “I’m just wondering if you should consider taking—“

“No meds! I’m fine. It must have been an accident, and I’m hurt that you would accuse me.”

Was he wrong?
Flooded with guilt, Spencer turned the cart around. “I’m sorry. I’m just rattled.”

After a long moment, Randall asked, “Is she at the generator?”

“Yes. She was reconfiguring the setup, hoping to keep the batteries from overheating. I pushed her to get it done quickly.”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

Spencer didn’t know what to think or say.

“What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to bury her and tell everyone she had a family emergency.” Spencer turned off the main road and headed for the creek.

“What about her car?” Randall asked.

“We’ll say I drove her to the airport.”

Randall seemed to relax at little. “Once we set everything in motion, none of this will matter.”

Thursday, May 9, 4:15 p.m.

McCullen stopped at the police department’s investigations office, which had been moved out of the historic red-brick building they’d outgrown and into an office in the downtown mall. He hoped Rob Ramirez would be around. The detective was a friend, and they were on a bowling team together with two other patrol officers. It was McCullen’s only social recreation. As an FBI agent, he avoided forming bonds. Too much of what he did and thought had to be kept to himself. After Emma dumped him, he’d been leery of getting emotionally involved too.

A middle-aged woman in civilian clothes greeted him and buzzed him in. He had to glance at her tag to remember her name. At a cluttered desk in the back corner of the space, Ramirez looked up.

“McCullen. I heard you caught the soggy corpse. Sorry about that. I’m swamped with a rash of car thefts, and Erickson is handling another rape.”

“You know I like a challenge.” He pulled up a chair. “I wanted to talk to you about a burglary or robbery that might have happened a few weeks ago.”

“Connected to the homicide?”

“Yep, it’s a weird one.” McCullen glanced at his notes for the correct date. “A woman calling herself Charlotte Archer checked into the Four Corners Motel on Sunday, April 21st. Two days later, she was gone, and a rental car was left in front of room eight. The motel manager called Shasta Rentals, and they picked it up.”

“Nobody reported anything to us.”

“I know. There was nothing left in the motel room and supposedly nothing left in the car. But I questioned the kid who cleaned the vehicle, and he finally admitted he’d found burglary tools and a handgun.”

Ramirez raised his eyebrows. “Would have been nice to know. What’s the kid’s name?”

“Jimmy Pearson.”

“Never heard of him. He must not have been in trouble before.”

“He’s in high school, and he says he sold the gun to buy his mother medicine.” McCullen reached for the evidence bag in his jacket. “But he kept the lock-picks. I need to know who or what this woman robbed. Or tried to rob before she was killed.”

“I’ll check our records. We had a string of pizza robberies, but that was back in March.” Ramirez turned to his monitor and keyed in the dates. “No burglaries or thefts reported on April 21 or 22, except for some vehicle break-ins around the railroad neighborhood.”

Disappointed, McCullen asked, “Any assaults?”

Another moment. “No. Sorry.” Ramirez tapped his desk. “Maybe someone caught her planning to rob them and killed her first.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Would you run the name through your databases just to see?”

“Sure.” The search took a few minutes and produced nothing.

McCullen stood. He was on his own with this one. “If you hear anything that seems remotely connected, let me know.”

Ramirez stood too. “We don’t see many armed robberies committed by females. I wonder what the hell she was up to.”

“I’m worried we may never know.”

Back at the bureau, McCullen spotted an even bigger concern standing in the hallway outside their locked office. Luke Caldwell was a buff older man with angry eyebrows and a broad scowling face. Emma’s father bellowed, “Where is my daughter? Why haven’t you taken that damn community apart yet?”

Bracing for more, McCullen keyed in the code and gestured for Caldwell to follow him. “Let’s keep this private.”

“I want to talk to your boss.”

Great idea.
Gibson had made himself the contact person on Dallas’ team, so let him deal with the victim’s overbearing father. “I’ll see if he’s here.” McCullen stepped into the main office and called out, hoping his boss hadn’t left for the day.

Gibson came out of his cubicle, briefcase in hand. McCullen nodded at the big man in the lobby. “Mr. Caldwell would like to speak with you.”

The three headed into the small space, which was less crowded than their interrogation room. As soon as he had their attention, Luke Caldwell blasted them. “What are you people doing? You know Emma is out there somewhere. What the hell is your plan?”

“We’re making progress,” Gibson replied calmly. “Please sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit. I don’t want to be placated. I just drove a hundred and fifty miles because you won’t return my phone calls!”

McCullen and Gibson stayed on their feet too. Caldwell was bigger than both of them.

His boss tried to take control. “We found her car Tuesday off Bear Mountain Road, so we have to consider that she might have been abducted by a stranger.”

“Bullshit! That just confirms that she didn’t run away. That she’s still right there in Destiny.”

Gibson kept his cool. “We have an investigation in place, and we hope to have a broader search warrant soon. Please be patient.”

“It’s been a week! That bastard has my daughter and grandson in some shitty basement, and if you can’t go get them, I will.” Caldwell’s nostrils flared, and McCullen smelled coffee and bourbon on his breath.

“That would be a bad idea!” Gibson was loud now too. “You could endanger your daughter and yourself and jeopardize our investigation.”

“What investigation? You’re both right here. How the hell can you look for Emma if you don’t leave the damn office?”

“Please sit down and I’ll tell you!”

After a long moment, Caldwell perched on the edge of a chair, like a man ready to spring.

“We have another agent working the case,” Gibson said. “And she thinks she’ll locate your daughter very soon.”

What the hell was he doing?
That was too much information.

“Your agent is out at that crazy community?” Caldwell pressed.

“I can’t tell you and you can’t talk about it. Go home and let us do our job.”

Caldwell stared at Gibson, then shifted his gaze to McCullen.

“Please. Go back to Sacramento,” he pleaded. “We’ll call you soon with an update, I promise.” Caldwell lived in the capital, but his ex-wife, Emma’s mother, was in San Francisco. They hadn’t met her in person yet.

Caldwell stood. “I already checked into a motel, and I’m not going anywhere. If you don’t find Emma in the next twenty-four hours, I’m going out there to raise holy hell.”

Gibson tried to soothe him, but Caldwell kept threatening as he walked to the door. “I’ll torture that son-of-a-bitch until he tells me where she is. I was in Vietnam—I know how to get information.” Caldwell slammed out of the room.

“What a jerk.” His boss shook his head. “We can’t let him screw this up for us.”

McCullen hesitated, then said what was on his mind. “You shouldn’t have told him we have an agent in Destiny.”

“I didn’t exactly spell it out, and I didn’t have much choice.” Gibson grabbed his briefcase from the floor. “I couldn’t let Caldwell go out there and start hurting people.”

“I hope you didn’t compromise Agent Dallas.”

“I didn’t. Why would Emma’s father jeopardize this case?”

McCullen wasn’t sure. “Maybe we should warn her.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Besides, Dallas said she’s speeding up her plans and will go out tonight to locate the bunker. We may have a warrant tomorrow.”

McCullen was jealous and irritated that Gibson had that information and he didn’t. He was still part of the Eden team. “I’d like to be kept in the loop.”

“I’ll update you if anything significant happens.” Gibson started to leave, then turned back. “Any progress on the floater?”

McCullen summed up what he knew about the case, concluding with the missing gun.

“Was she shot?”

“No, but she had a head wound. Two newspapers will run a photo of the victim soon, and we’ll see if anyone can identify her.”

“Send the burglary tools to the bureau’s lab and see if they can pull a print.” Gibson sounded like a boss now.

McCullen bristled. “I planned to do that next.”

“I know, but we have a lot riding on these two cases. They may be the biggest investigations we ever do.” Gibson moved toward the door. “They could increase our funding, or maybe give us another agent.”

“Once I’ve identified the victim, it’ll be easier to pinpoint suspects. Don’t worry, we’ll solve them both.” McCullen hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

After Gibson left, McCullen went to his desk and searched CODIS for women with Sacramento addresses, hoping to spot a photo that matched Charlotte’s license.

His personal cell phone rang, and he was surprised to see Kaitlin Tucker’s name on the ID. Was she calling as a reporter or a friend? Reluctantly, he took the call. “Hey, Kaitlin. What’s up?”

“You tell me. Do you have any leads on Emma Clayton’s disappearance?”

She was calling as a reporter
.
“No, but the bureau is conducting a statewide search. We have her photo posted everywhere, including truck stops all along I-5.”

“Good to know. Is Randall Clayton still a suspect?”

“We haven’t ruled out anyone yet. You know I can’t give you specifics about the case.” That had been an issue in their short relationship.

“You know I have to ask.” She paused. “What about the dead woman in the pool? Any leads on her?”

“I already told you what I know. She was using the name Charlotte Archer, but it’s phony, and we’re still trying to identify her. Until we do, the investigation will be difficult.”

“The motel manager said she’d been wounded in the head. Will you confirm that she was murdered?”

“I don’t have the autopsy report yet, but we suspect foul play.” He hated that expression.

Someone started talking in the background, but Kaitlin ignored them. “Is there any link between Emma Clayton and the murdered woman?”

It hadn’t occurred to him. “We have no reason to believe that at this time. I have to get back to work, but I’ll let you know if something breaks open.” It was bullshit, and they both knew it, but Kaitlin didn’t call him on it.

“Thanks, Caleb. I know you’ll nail both.”

Her confidence bolstered his, and he dug back into the files.

Thursday, May 9, 7:15 p.m.

Dallas rounded the corner of the fourplex, and the sound of a door closing made her look up. Randall stood in front of her apartment, looking a little rattled. Dallas’ heart skipped a beat. Had he been inside, snooping through her things? Or had he just left Raff’s apartment instead? She started up the stairs as he came down, then stopped in the middle, blocking his path. How to play this? Sweet, but straightforward?

“Hey, Randall.” Dallas smiled brightly. “Were you just in my apartment?”

He feigned surprise. “No, I was looking for Raff. Have you seen him?”

Liar.
But she didn’t call him on it. Conflict could get her kicked out. “No. I was at the community center trying to make a phone call.”

“If you see him, tell him I need to talk.” He stepped down, and she let him pass.

The prick.
Dallas hurried upstairs and let herself in, noting the door was locked. She’d assumed he and Spencer had a key to the apartment, so she’d kept her non-Sonja phones and cash in a locked leather case. Good thing she’d taken her purse with her. Dallas headed straight to the bedroom to see if the case had been tampered with. Still on the shelf in the closet, it seemed untouched. Thank goodness!

She inspected the rest of the apartment to see if anything had been moved or fiddled with. Her laptop was still under the couch. But was it in the same place? It seemed farther back. Dallas turned it on, and the password dialogue box came up. Her shoulders relaxed. Randall hadn’t accessed her files. But why had he come in at all? Did he suspect her? Or was he just a snoop?

She glanced out the window. He’d probably seen her coming along the path and knew to get out when he did. If he had even been inside
.
She had no proof. But the possibility that Randall was suspicious meant she had to step up her plan to find Emma.

Instinct told her an underground bunker was buried out there in the side of a hill. A secret bunker that most Destiny members didn’t know about. If Emma Clayton and her baby were alive and captive on the property, they were likely in that bunker. She would go tonight.

She transferred her Kel-Tec from the secret compartment in her purse to a pocket inside her backpack, then threw in a flashlight, lock-pick, and camera. All the bureau needed to get a search warrant was photo evidence that the bunker existed and her claim that she’d heard a cry for help.