Holding the Truth

by Calle J. Brookes

  "Cowards. So certain they're going to get hurt. At least he is. I don't even think Bailey is experienced enough to realize why he's like a bear with no food whenever she's near. I told him to just take her to the Barratt and keep her naked for a week, but he's never listened to me. Why should he start now? They are perfect for one another. But what do I know? I just care about the both of them."

  "That's really sweet." She could hear the hail striking the house, even through the steel walls of the shelter. It was going to be bad out there. She shivered. Jake tightened his arm around her.

  His arms were strong. It had been a while since a strong man had just held her. Before she realized it, her head dropped to his shoulder. She shifted her son in her arms. Her baby was a deep sleeper and always had been. He wouldn't be waking for at least another hour.

  A quick peek at Liam confirmed that Jake's son was sleeping through the storm as well. He was such a pretty baby. Her brother and Kyra's child would probably look a lot like Liam.

  Or even like her Cameron.

  She liked that idea. Liked the connection. Liked how it felt like they were a family. That's what it felt like now. Her, Jake, the boys. All together. Waiting out the storm.

  "I feel so alone all the time, Jake. I don't know how to make my family understand that without them thinking it's their fault. My mother keeps apologizing for all that we missed. Over and over. She thinks she and my father—who barely talks to me at all—should have been able to find me with Charlie. Anthony and Cam are going overboard, trying to make connections that just aren't there anymore. And Murdoch..." A small sob escaped before she could stop it. "Well, you saw him."

  "And your sisters?"

  "It's easier with Ronnie. She's not pressuring me. But she makes a point of coming by each weekend. To check on us. And she's taken Cameron several times. Same with Becky. But I don’t know them anymore.”

  "Sounds like most of them want that connection. Kyra stayed away from us for over ten years. That hurt. But I understood why. What our dad did hurt her deeply. She emailed me; that was it."

  "I never understood why you were estranged? My brother has never said."

  "My father. When he was arrested and I was shot, it traumatized my sister. I understood it. She hated it here in Value. After what happened. And I can't say I blame her for that, either. And my father didn't want to push her. We're all working on that now. Your brother's helped her heal a great deal."

  Celia nodded. Her brother loved his sister. Deeply. She had envied Kyra having that.

  She had never had that with a man. She'd thought she'd had it with Christopher, but he hadn't wanted the same things from life that she had. Especially their son.

  Now, with hindsight, she knew he wouldn't have been a good father. He was too self-involved for that. Not like this man next to her. Jake was an excellent father to Liam. "Charlie was a good father to me. But no one wants to hear that. They just want to paint him as the bad man."

  "But life is never that simple. We both know that."

  "You really are philosophical, aren't you?"

  "My minor was in philosophical studies. It's always been an interest. But I've had a lot of time—flat on my back—to think about people. And how we react to things. Charlie took you for selfish reasons, but he treated you well when you were with him. Why wouldn't that confuse you? Knock you for a loop? Since what happened back then, your whole world has changed. You're allowed to feel confused. And angry. Hell, you can be flat out pissed and no one can say a word against it. I certainly wouldn't blame you. I was angry for about six years because of what happened to me. I still have a bullet fragment lodged in my back. It'll never go anywhere. It reminds me of everything that I could have lost. To have lost your whole family—even if just by Charlie's lie—at so young an age had to be devastating. You want to be angry, go ahead. But don't feel guilty. None of it was your fault. Any more than it was Kyra's or Bailey's. You were just another one of their victims. It was not your fault."

  Cam squirmed in her arms. Celia shifted her son to the bench seat next to her. There was a blanket nearby, and she covered her child with it quickly.

  "I trusted him. Believed him. I never even considered that he was doing things he shouldn't. If I had...well, what was I supposed to do?"

  "Nothing. You couldn't have done anything because no one could have guessed what he was doing." Jake's hands went around her waist, and before she knew it, he'd lifted her straight off the bench and into his lap.

  Jake had some seriously well-developed upper-arm strength that left her a little on the breathless side. He was strong and fit, and as she looked up, she realized just how hungry the man was. It was in those green eyes of his.

  For her.

  Celia's breath caught. Before she even had time to think of the consequences, she leaned forward—until her lips connected with his.

  Chapter 101

  Verity wasn’t certain what to do or what to say. She’d never in a million years expected Bert to show up at her place. “What are you doing here?”

  He stepped forward. She backed up and let him in, telling herself it was only because of the storm.

  Rain was pelting almost sideways against the vinyl siding of her home. It could have even been hail, for all she knew.

  It was entirely possible hell had just frozen over. Why else would he be there? “Is Bailey-girl ok?”

  Her heart stuttered for a minute when she thought of that girl.

  It was hard not to; Bailey was all alone in the world, except for Bert and his boy...and her.

  And Veri was all alone except for Bailey and Clay, too. If they didn’t have someone to keep an eye out for them, then who would?

  “As far as I know. But it’s you I came to talk about.”

  “About what? I don’t think you and I have much to say to each other. I suggest you get on out of here before this storm gets worse.”

  “I told you I was coming for you this morning.” He almost growled the words at her.

  “I’m not—nor have I ever been—your problem, Bert Dillon. And don’t you forget it.” Thunder rumbled overhead. “You’d best go before the storm hits.

  “I’ve dealt with storms before.”

  But she could see the nerves in the way he glanced toward the big picture window in her living room. Even a strong man had fears. Bert’s were storms. They would always be storms.

  Burying your brother because of a storm would do that to a man, after all. She’d give him that.

  It was one of the few things she could remember every frightening Albert Dillon.

  She hadn’t even seen him look afraid when they’d taken him away to prison that day.

  Veri shivered as he remembered it. He’d been calm and stoic, and had watched his wife and children as he’d walked away.

  Bert had changed since then. The years had seen to that. But very little. His shoulders were still broad, and his face weathered by the Texas air.

  And by life.

  There were stories in his dark-green eyes. Stories Veri didn’t want to think about.

  “Why are you here, Bert?”

  Thunder cracked overhead. The radio in the kitchen crackled. Beeped out the familiar sound of a warning.

  The thunder rolled overhead, almost drowning out his words.

  “You have a basement.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want him in her home.

  But how could she send him back out there?

  Something crashed in the rear of her house. Glass shattered.

  Veri hurried down the hall.

  The tree that had been in the backyard forever was now lying on her back porch.

  A hard hand wrapped around her wrist. “Come on, honey. Let’s go. We’ll finish our discussion down there.”

  She didn’t bother to nod. The door to the basement was in her kitchen. She just led the way. She wasn’t big on storms, but she very rarely took shelter in the basement. She knew the statistics on storms, but this time...

/>   The roar of the wind was getting louder.

  They hadn’t even made it to the bottom of the stairs when the sounds of hell unleashing above them drowned out every word she could have said.

  Bert’s arms wrapped around her from behind and he almost carried her the rest of the way down and into the cubby beneath the stairs.

  And he just held her.

  Chapter 102

  Adrian Alonso had a two-year-old daughter. She’d been a prostitute and a junkie and had lived a high-risk lifestyle. But she’d had a daughter who had lived with Adrian’s mother.

  Clay had held that little girl while Bailey did her best to soothe the woman’s mother while asking her the questions. The woman had looked at Clay with suspicion in her eyes, but she’d opened up easily to Bailey.

  She’d confirmed that her daughter had had some troubles—Clay knew that was an understatement—but the victim sent money to her mother every week for her daughter. She’d voluntarily let the child stay with her mother because she’d known she wasn’t the best place for the child.

  By her mother’s account, she was an extremely responsible mother who happened to have a drug problem she fed with prostitution.

  It was a tragic story. Made even more tragic by how the young woman had died.

  “Did Adrian mention a new man in her life?” Bailey asked.

  “Not that I can recall. But she didn’t share information about her personal life. We both liked it better that way.”

  Clay heard the pain and regrets and he understood. He wasn’t exactly close to his own mother, either. And he didn’t know if he wanted to fix that—or even how to go about it, if he did.

  It just was.

  “The last time you saw your daughter was...?”

  “A few days before she was...found. She stopped by to bring Kadria some clothes she’d bought her at a yard sale. She comes by at least twice a week to see her daughter.” The woman wiped her face with an old lace handkerchief again. “You have any idea who did this to my daughter? I need to know. To tell the baby someday. Adrian was trying to get clean. She’d go to counseling two times a week in Finley Creek. Would talk to her parole officer on a weekly basis. She was really trying. My daughter, she wasn’t the brightest, Sheriff. But she was trying. She’s been trying since she had the baby.”

  And she hadn’t deserved to end up in Lamar Sandoval’s bean field. Clay pushed back the anger. It wouldn’t be productive, and it wouldn’t help them find out who had killed the little girl’s mother. She was pulling on his collar and babbling. Giggling.

  Perfectly innocent in a world that could destroy her.

  Every one of their victims was someone’s daughter. Had been held just like he held this baby now. “Mrs. Alonso, I’m not going to stop until I find who did this to your daughter. He’ll pay for what he did, I give you my word.”

  When he and Bailey made it back out to the Tahoe, the storms were picking up again. He checked his phone for any reports of warnings and for any updates from Deb, the dispatcher on shift now. Nothing so far.

  They had a ninety-minute drive back from Childress to Value. If he pushed it. It would be close to seven before they were back at the station. They hadn’t learned much today, but had spent most of it going from dump site to crime scene. Trying to find someone who might have known more than they realized.

  It had been long and tedious and unfruitful. But that was par for the course in these kinds of investigations. So was Clay’s determination.

  Bailey was quiet as they drove the first ten miles. “She wasn’t making the best decisions, but she was there for her mother and daughter—as best she could.”

  “She was trying. She didn’t deserve what he did to her. But how did she meet him?”

  “We need to track her last few days as best we can. Because she came into contact with our killer somehow. And if we can find where that contact was, we may be able to tie the same contact to Missy Layne or some of the others.”

  “Yes. What was it her mother said? Adrian was at her house a few days before we found her. And she met with her parole officer weekly—and went to rehab twice a week. That’s three events we can timeline there. Four if we count the visit with her family.”

  “The Finley Creek ME estimates she’d been in Sandoval’s field three days before we found her. And that she died there of asphyxiation.”

  “So her mother saw her probably on the day of, or the day before, she was actually killed.”

  “That means our killer most likely saw her somewhere she’d been that week before. If we keep with the theory that she wasn’t meeting a Jon, but an actual date.”

  “We’ll drive through Finley Creek around six. We can try to contact her parole officer.”

  “I’ll do that while you drive. I don’t think there’s a medical connection with her.”

  “It’s been a while. Maybe he’s evolved his initial contact methodology. It wouldn’t be surprising.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  He listened as she tried to set up an appointment with the parole officer. The woman wasn’t available, but she did speak with Bailey over the phone.

  After she disconnected, Bailey looked at him. “Adrian was in her office the day before she visited her mother, at 4:45. Her parole officer said she was doing well. No problems.”

  “Then we need to find what rehab she attended.”

  “Already have it on its way. The parole officer set it up for her, and is faxing Adrian’s file to Deb now. I’ll go over it tonight, then check with her counselor tomorrow.”

  “We’ll grab dinner in Finley Creek when we drive through.” She wore her uniform, he was in jeans and green polo with TSP on the pocket. They weren’t exactly dressed for the Barratt. If they were, he’d take her there and spend an hour feeding her and trying to get that hurting look out of Bailey-blue eyes.

  The little girl they’d both held had made what they were doing that much more of a sharp knife. Clay wasn’t blind to that.

  Even though most of the bodies they had had been decaying for more than two decades, it was very real to them. There were loved ones out there, waiting for those answers. The truth.

  They deserved the truth.

  The rain pelting the Tahoe doubled. His hands tightened on the wheel. The storm showed no sign of letting up. “We are definitely stopping in Finley Creek. I’m not driving in this. We might run into a bigger problem on the highway.”

  Every once in a while, the highway would wash out due to massive storms. Clay knew what that would mean—he and Bailey weren’t immune to weather simply because of their jobs. If anything, they were more likely to be caught in the middle of it.

  And Mother Nature could be a real bitch in Texas.

  He chose an out-of-the-way place that his cousin Powell actually owned, though she didn’t run it, and they waited out the worst of the rain.

  The clouds were rolling in their direction after they were finished eating, but the rain had subsided enough for them to have basic visibility.

  “This is going to last all night,” Bailey said as they passed the turnoff for Barrattville and headed more south toward Value. “We’ll have damages.”

  “No doubt. But at least we don’t have to worry about Bracker’s Mill Road any longer.”

  “Did the inspector forward you his initial reports? I wanted to take a look but haven’t had a chance yet.”

  “I read over it. There were two pilings with notches cut pretty deeply. Crude, but effective at causing the bridge to bend like it did once the force of the water hit it.”

  “And the boards in the center?”

  “Cut right out with a saw. Probably took someone a while to do it, but it would have killed us if we’d gotten caught in it and the bridge bent around us.” He shot her a look as they slowed for a stop sign where the highway and a farm road intersected. “We were lucky.”

  “Yes, we were. And after we find out who killed Adrian, we’re going to have to find out who did that to the
bridge.”

  “I’ve given the task to Jeff. He’s going to head up that investigation. He’s keeping Jeremy on it as well.”

  He could have lost her, would have been forced to sit there, trapped.

  Fury rose again. “We’ll find the asshole responsible.”

  “I have no doubt that you will. I’ll probably be at Finley Creek then, but I’d appreciate you keeping me in the loop.”

  “So you’re going to go, then?”

  “Yes. I think it’s the best decision. I like forensics. I’m good at it. I think...I think I needed to come back to Value after what happened with my father. I couldn’t let myself run from it. I needed to see that I could step back into the life that I left before, exorcise the demons. Before I could move on. Let’s face it; you don’t need me specifically at Value. You just need a body in my position. But I can be more effective in Finley Creek. And I can go now, knowing that my father is not the reason, that I’m not running from being on patrol. That I’m making a conscious choice.”

  “And it has nothing to do with me? Because if it does, if I’ve made you think—”

  “It’s not that. The personal angle, I mean. Because I don’t run in my personal life, Clay. I never have, and I am not about to start with you.”

  ***

  Bailey meant what she was saying. She’d come to a realization sitting there watching Clay hold that baby girl. Clay was made to be the sheriff. His place was out there with the people of Value. But hers...hers was in her head. Figuring out the puzzles. Understanding the how, while he figured out the why. She could be far more helpful to the TSP doing that, than out there doing what Jeff, or Jeremy or any deputy could.

  But the science...she actually felt a passion for the science. A passion she hadn’t felt since she’d first joined the TSP.

  It had nothing to do with what had happened to her or the personal feelings she was developing for the man next to her.

  It had everything to do with her.

  “No. It’s my choice. I am going to talk to Haldyn about it in more detail.” It would be a salary increase, and there would promotional opportunities. It would be a completely different world than it was in Value.