Breach of Honor

by Janice Cantore

  “From what we can tell, loosely. Whether or not Hess is still working for the Mafia, we haven’t been able to determine. He’s most likely running his own operation out here. We do know that he speaks several languages. He has an IQ at genius level. We don’t believe he’s a lackey—he’s running the whole show.”

  “Do you have any evidence as to who your leak might be, who spoiled the farmhouse raid?” Falcon asked.

  Clint shook his head. “I wish I did. But we were working under a time constraint, little or no sleep. Maybe we missed something. I’ve been going back over everything, but so far nothing sticks out.”

  “Until you find the leak, any investigation you conduct will be compromised. We are going to advise your chief that you stay out of it.”

  “What?” Now Clint was angry. “Those Russians were my arrest, and I will find their boss.”

  Cross pointed to a copy of the newspaper on Clint’s desk. The headline was about Leah. “Your department is a cesspool of corruption, and it looks like it has been for a very long time. Stay away from Larkspur Farms and anything to do with this investigation, or you’ll find yourself in our crosshairs.”

  The two agents turned and left his office, leaving Clint scratching his head. They’d all but said they thought he was dirty. He wasn’t going to give up on the smuggling. Russians being involved only piqued his interest.

  Clint gathered his kit and left for his patrol vehicle. Someone calling out his name stopped him just before he reached his SUV. It was Vicki Henderson. She’d ridden out a really rough beginning and was now the solid cop he’d thought she’d be.

  “Sarge, can I have a word?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “What do you think is going to happen with Leah Radcliff? Do you think she’ll try to get her job back now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He truly didn’t. He wished he did. In fact, he wished he could sit down with Leah and plan the future—one that had the two of them together. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

  She stood up straight as if surprised by his answer. “Why not? She was seriously wronged.”

  Clint knew Vicki thought highly of Leah, no matter what negativity she might have heard, even more so when Leah’s investigator actually helped her case. “Henderson, I feel for Leah—I really do—but even innocent I think it would be difficult for her to pick up where she left off. Consider your own experiences.”

  Henderson shrugged. “I made it, and I hope she does too. She got the short end of the stick. I want to see her fight to get her job back.”

  “The next few days will tell.”

  His phone rang and Henderson continued into the station. It was Chief Haun. Clint set his kit down and answered the call.

  “Where are you right now?”

  “About to get into my car. What’s up?”

  “I need you to do something for me. I’m in the office.”

  He disconnected. Clint stared at his phone for a moment. The call was odd even for the normally terse Haun. A sick feeling folded inside Clint’s stomach. This was probably about Leah Radcliff. He put his kit in the trunk, resigned to the fact that he just might not make it to the field this morning, and returned to the station.

  Haun’s office door was closed. Clint knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Clint opened the door and fought to keep his expression neutral. Haun wasn’t alone. Morton Fendle, the city attorney, was there, along with Rachel Clyburn, a high-priced private attorney Clint knew represented the Draper family.

  The chief looked grim. “Sergeant Tanner, you know Mr. Fendle and Ms. Clyburn.”

  Clint nodded.

  “We need you to serve a restraining order,” Fendle said. He shuffled some paperwork and handed some sheets to Clint.

  Clint took the paperwork. Rachel Clyburn watched him, a deep frown on her face. He could feel daggers coming from her, and he had no idea why.

  Clint looked down at the paperwork and again fought to keep his face neutral.

  “Do you have a problem with this task, Sergeant?” Clyburn asked, arms folded, posture tense and hostile.

  Clint met her eyes. “Problem? No. Just a question.”

  “What’s the question?”

  “Is this really necessary?”

  “Of course it’s necessary.” Clyburn’s eyes narrowed, and she studied Clint. “You’re very close to her father, aren’t you?”

  Clint nodded. “Not sure what that has to do with anything, but yeah, we go to the same church.”

  “Where do your loyalties lie?”

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  “I’ll spell it out. Leah Radcliff murdered my client’s son in cold blood. Now, after finagling her way out of prison, she has the nerve to return to Table Rock and flaunt her freedom while my clients are still grieving. You will admonish her to stay completely away from my clients, their property, and anything to do with them—is that clear?”

  “I’ll do my job.”

  “See that you do.” Clyburn picked up a briefcase, nodded at the chief, and left the office, Fendle on her heels.

  Haun arched an eyebrow at Clint, then shook his head. “Radcliff coming back is stirring up a lot of stuff . . . bad stuff.”

  Clint thought carefully about his next statement. He didn’t know which side of this Haun was on.

  “Chief, she had two trials. The first one found her guilty and sent her to prison, but it was deemed to have been flawed, criminally so. And the second trial found her completely innocent. She’s free and clear. Are we going to compound that first injustice now?”

  Haun stood. He was ex-military and had been a cop for twenty-five years to Clint’s nine. Clint respected him.

  “Tanner, I don’t have any respect for a man who hits a woman. And I didn’t really care for Brad Draper. But he’s dead. She killed him, and even though that killing was found to be justified under the law, his parents and the people who idolized him are never going to get over it. They ignore everything negative that has surfaced about Brad.” Haun rubbed his chin. “And the Drapers have the money to make her life a living hell now, innocent or not. I fully expect them to sue her in civil court for wrongful death. With this restraining order I believe they’re firing the first shot and declaring war.”

  “That’s not going to bring Brad back. And you and I both know the state cops are still investigating the prosecutor’s office here because of the juror who claims he was paid to vote guilty. Patterson and Racer are under the microscope for various illegalities. Wilcox is also being investigated. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they find themselves facing criminal charges somewhere down the line. The Drapers won’t win this war. Radcliff was railroaded.”

  Haun gave a tilt of his head. “Birch is dead, so he can’t be cross-examined to answer the charges against him or defend himself. And winning isn’t the object. The Drapers only want to inflict pain in this war. If you and I are going to survive unscathed, we’re going to have to be careful not to choose sides. All we can do is stand by and prevent collateral damage. But I guarantee you this: if you openly side with Radcliff, you risk becoming collateral damage.”

  He held Clint’s gaze. He knew what the chief was saying was true. It wasn’t fair to Leah, and he didn’t like it, but it was true.

  “After you serve the order, see that you file proof of service with the court, ASAP.”

  “Yes, sir.” Clint turned to leave.

  “Wait.” Haun stepped around his desk. “The two federal visitors catch up with you?”

  Clint leaned against the door. “They did.” He recapped the brief, frustrating meeting. “Do you have any thoughts on who our leak is?”

  “No, I don’t. I almost don’t know how anyone could have tipped them off. You moved as quickly as you could—not that many people even knew of the arrest. The Russians weren’t booked or even in the system for thirty-six hours.” He held his hands up. “Now the feds want to take it over.�
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  “Are you on board with that? It’s our case.”

  “Until we find the leak, it might be the best thing. And you know the smuggling isn’t going to stop.”

  Clint nodded. Smuggling was a problem on the interstate. Most contraband was headed through Oregon, or in the case of pot, out of the state. It was lucrative and difficult to interdict. Clint left the chief’s office thinking about Hess, wishing he could be in on the manhunt and not filing paperwork to make Leah Radcliff’s life more complicated.

  CHAPTER 38

  Clint prayed as he drove up Highway 62 toward Trail, wondering how in the world Leah could pick up where she left off. He knew that she deserved to. He wanted her to. They’d talked about a lot of things back and forth in their letters, but never really her plans for life after prison. It was almost as if they danced around it. Now everything seemed to be aligned against her returning to a normal life.

  He could admit to himself that his feelings for her had gotten stronger, especially after all the correspondence. Clint felt he knew her better now, and he liked what he knew. However, the feelings would stay buried, unspoken—they had to. Leah was in a very different place now. The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt her reintegration.

  His head hurt when he thought about all that was swirling around Leah at the moment: the state investigation into what happened during her first trial, this mini war with the Drapers, the rumor that the state investigators were going to reopen the investigation into prosecutor Birch’s death. And those were just a few of the big items. Leah would be way too busy for any personal relationship.

  Clint considered Birch. He might have been a favorite prosecutor for the PD, but every single move he made was fraught with political calculations. Cops liked to gossip, and Birch and his connections were always a topic, especially when Birch picked and chose what cases to prosecute. The Drapers were big donors. When Brad’s case came before him, he should have passed the case off to someone else, but he didn’t.

  His death was convenient for the Drapers, that was for sure. Was it really a suicide? Because of Leah’s vindication and interest in the Hangmen, the crash was another favorite topic at the watercooler. Conspiracy theories abounded. Clint even heard someone say they thought Birch had been murdered. All of the scuttlebutt circled back to the Drapers.

  Clint glanced at the paperwork beside him. When all the smoke cleared, would Harden Draper find himself behind bars? Time would tell.

  As Clint made the turn toward Trail and Leah’s home, he realized how glad he was that she was home with her father. Randy was someone else Clint had gotten to know well, someone he liked and respected. Leah would be safe there.

  He turned onto the gravel driveway and felt strangely nervous. He wanted to protect Leah from the Draper family, not inflict more pain because of them.

  Not surprisingly, Leah didn’t sleep well her first few nights of freedom. The bed felt soft and comfortable, and it was quiet. Even at night prison was never completely without background sound—there was always facility noise or inmate noise. With the total silence at her father’s house, Leah couldn’t still her noisy thoughts. What surprised Leah was that her mind raced so quickly back to that night, the final confrontation with Brad and the ugly aftermath.

  This was something she thought she’d put to rest. She’d let go of Brad, forgiven him and herself. But being back in familiar settings resurrected a waterfall of bad feelings. For two days she’d tried to ignore them, spending a lot of time outside, enjoying the cold and anticipating the snow that threatened.

  After a third night of restlessness, Leah couldn’t ignore the bad memories and she got out of bed, not wanting to fight a battle she had already won anymore. She refused to let all the nastiness bury her now that she was free and ready to move forward. She grabbed her father’s Bible and opened to the book of Psalms. Reading a few verses here and there calmed her thoughts, steadied her heart. She would not go back to despair, self-pity, and hopelessness.

  She looked out the window to see a light snow falling in the gray morning light. She thought of Clint and almost dug into her bag to retrieve his letters and reread every one. She couldn’t let Clint become a stumbling block for her. If he was involved with Jenna, then she’d just be happy for him.

  Sighing and fighting the darkness that threatened, she wrapped herself in a warm throw, sat in her father’s recliner, breathed deeply, and closed her eyes, imagining she was wrapped in his arms and nothing bad could happen to her ever again.

  CHAPTER 39

  Clint was halfway up the drive when movement to the left caught his attention. He stopped the SUV and peered into the tree line. He expected to see deer or elk, something common here, but saw nothing. Thinking it was just his imagination, he’d shifted to continue up the drive when movement flashed again, and it wasn’t a four-legged animal.

  He put the SUV in park and got out. The person was wearing camo, but it was late November, and the pattern was easily picked out among the bare trees and fresh snow. Whoever it was moved quickly through the trees away from Clint and off the Radcliff property.

  There was no way Clint could catch the person even if he had a solid reason to chase him. The figure was short—maybe a kid up to mischief? Whoever it was moved fast. Clint stepped off the drive and tried to think. Which way was the person going when I first saw him? Toward the Radcliff home or away from it?

  He wasn’t sure. All he’d seen was a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. An uneasy feeling gripped his gut. Back in the car, he pressed the accelerator and hurried for the Radcliff house.

  The smell of coffee brewing woke Leah. Part of her hoped the pampering could go on forever. Her dad loved making breakfast for her. Soon, though, she’d need to stand on her own two feet.

  She was stiff from sleeping in the recliner, but she felt rested. And free. She could hear her father humming in the kitchen and that brought on a smile. Her mother used to joke that Dad knew the words to every corny musical ever made. Leah recognized the tune he was humming as “Oklahoma!” A funny song to sing when the world outside was white with a thin, fresh layer of snow, Leah thought as she got up and peered through the blinds into the backyard.

  “You awake?” Dad appeared in the kitchen doorway, steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

  “You bet. That coffee smells wonderful.”

  “Here you go, sweet pea. Does my heart good to be able to make this for you again.”

  Happy tears sprang to her eyes. She went to her father and hugged him around the waist.

  “Careful, careful,” he said, patting her back. “You’ll spill this hot drink all over us.”

  Leah smiled, released him, stepped back, and took the coffee. She held the cup in both hands and looked her father in the eyes. “Thanks, Pop. Thanks for everything. It feels more wonderful each day to be home.”

  “It feels wonderful to have you home. Now, what do you want for breakfast today?”

  The red paint stood out against the backdrop of white snow like blood. Clint slowed his cruiser. Randy’s work truck and Leah’s compact sedan were plastered with the word killer in red spray paint.

  He glanced over at the double-wide and noted all the front blinds were still closed. He wondered if Randy and Leah were up and if they’d seen this. It made him sad and angry. What a mess. He’d known the morning he saw Leah’s bruised face there could never be any winners in this situation. And he realized that again when Leah was exonerated. She’d had to kill her husband to save her own life—how could she ever win?

  Still, he’d prayed that something good would come out of the situation because he also knew God could work any situation out for the good of those who love him. But obviously someone—and he bet it was the Drapers—didn’t want any good for Leah.

  He got out of the patrol car and walked up to the front door.

  Leah opted for something simple for breakfast—bacon and eggs, scrambled with cheese—then sat at the table while her father prepar
ed it.

  “We got a little snow last night,” she said, content to sip her coffee and watch her father cook.

  “Just a dusting. It’ll be gone by noon. It’s been a wet fall—spring will be off the charts, I’m betting.” He went back to humming “Oklahoma!”

  When he finished cooking, he loaded two plates with bacon and eggs and sat down with Leah at the table. He gripped her hands, closed his eyes, and said a blessing. “Lord, I thank you for providing all that we need to eat this morning and I thank you for bringing my daughter home to me, safe and sound.” He squeezed Leah’s hands and then let go, opening his eyes and grinning. “I’m really glad you’re here now, really glad.”

  The love in his eyes took her breath away. She had to swallow before speaking. “I am too, Dad.”

  They both dug into their meals.

  “I noticed that you finished the patio out back,” Leah said while they ate.

  Randy nodded and swallowed his food. “Look forward to a lot of great barbecues once the weather warms up. By the way, yesterday I pulled a permit to cut down a Christmas tree. What do you think about doing that today? My schedule is clear.”

  Leah’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. Cutting down the Christmas tree was an annual ritual when she was growing up. They’d not been back in the forest to do that since her mother died.

  She blinked. “Dad, we haven’t done that in years.”

  He smiled, put his fork down, and placed his hand over hers. “I know. There’s a lot of things we haven’t done together in a while and I hope now to change all that. What do you say? Are you up for a trip to Prospect to cut down a tree?”

  Her throat tightened; she cleared it and said, “Sure, Dad.”

  “Good, now finish your breakfast.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door.

  “You expecting anyone?” she asked her father.

  “Not this early.”

  She didn’t miss the concern that creased his brow.