by Kylie Brant
Hand on her forehead, Tina cracked open one eye to survey him. “No. You don’t. You need me to call the school and tell them exactly that, I will.”
That was definitely the last thing Dylan wanted. “It’s an assignment. And I can’t do it here because I need internet.”
Her eyes closed again. “Do it in study hall.”
“It’s a paper for history. It’s going to take a while. I have to get a couple of pages written every day if I want to be done by the time it’s due.” When she said nothing, he plowed ahead. “Could you pick me up around four thirty from school the next couple of days?”
“Sure, Dylan, there’s nothing I want to do more than drag the laundry to the Laundromat tomorrow, spend hours doing the wash, do the grocery shopping, and then toddle over to your school to chauffeur you home. No. Take the bus.”
His stomach clenched. Her answer was hardly surprising. “I remembered something about that night,” he blurted out. Then stopped himself. Talking about what happened in the woods all those years ago just got his mom wound up.
Her eyes flew open. “What night?” When he looked away, she snapped, “Dylan Ray. You know what I told you. It ain’t good for you to dwell on it.”
Dwell on it. That was a laugh. Like the night of Trev’s death was ever far from his mind. “I remembered a backpack.” He studied his mom’s face carefully. “Forrester was yelling about it when he chased us.”
“First I ever heard about it. The cops didn’t mention it, and you never talked about it to that doctor, neither.”
Doubt filtered through him. She’d know. She’d been with him at every appointment and each time he’d talked to the deputies.
“Listen to me, now. I told you over and over. Try to forget that night. That’s what the doctor said back then.”
That wasn’t exactly what Dylan recalled the doctor saying. But his mom was still talking. “You and me are a team, right? You do your part and I do mine. Don’t forget it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He turned to walk away. She’d been saying that for years now, but only ever to him. Never Colton. His older brother had always gotten special treatment.
“Get on back here. I ain’t finished.” Grudgingly, he faced her again. “It don’t do you no good making yourself sick over trying to remember what’s done. Gave yourself a headache, didn’t you?”
Sometimes, when she bothered to look, she saw too damn much. “Yeah.”
“This is the kind of thing I’ve been worrying about for a while now. It ain’t healthy to have you here alone all the time. Or safe. I’ve invited Uncle Teeter to come stay for a while, for some extra protection.”
“Huh?” It took a minute for him to comprehend. “Uncle T is coming here?” He’d been a little kid the last time he’d seen John Teeter. His memory of him was hazy, but he recalled that he was tall. And he’d always brought him and Colton presents when he came to visit. “Do the agents know?”
“No, and they ain’t gonna.”
Dylan sat on the arm of the couch. “What if they show up?”
“Why would they? They ain’t exactly offering you around-the-clock protection, are they?”
“That marshal came last week.”
Tina straightened. “He can sleep in Colton’s bed.” Dylan mentally groaned. Because one thing he did remember was that T snored like a buzz saw. “And he can keep his car in the garage during the day. Or in back of it. Even if someone comes, no reason they’d know he’s here, and none of their business anyway.”
The paranoia that had filled him earlier this evening came rushing back. “Why now? Did something happen? Was Forrester sighted in town?”
“Jesus, no, calm down. That’s why you need someone else around. It ain’t normal to think about this shit all the time.” She leaned over for the purse she’d dropped on the floor and rummaged through it for a pack of cigarettes. Lit one. “When we left Hope Mills, I never woulda guessed we’d still be living like this after five years. All I thought about was getting you and Colton somewheres safe.” She drew deeply on the cigarette and exhaled on her next words. “You’re sixteen now.”
He wouldn’t turn sixteen for several months, but he knew better than to correct her.
“Boy your age needs people in his life. Time for horsing around with friends and whatnot. Guess you get some of that at school, but you’re still alone too much.”
He kept his head down, staring at the worn carpet. There was no point in telling her that he deliberately didn’t make friends at his schools anymore. Being buddies with Dylan had signed Ethan’s death warrant, all because they’d switched hoodies for a few days. Getting too close to Dylan Castle—looking a bit like him—had gotten two kids murdered. Did she really think he’d chance that again?
“Maybe instead of having Uncle T come, Colton could just move back.” Not that his brother and mom got along that well. This life hadn’t been good for Colton, either.
“That ain’t happening. He’s got himself a girl. Couldn’t blast him from her side right now. Anyway, he’s a grown man. He should be living his own life, long as he keeps a low profile. Believe me, I check in regular to make sure he’s doing just that.”
It was the first Dylan had heard of it. “Where is he? Nearby?” Colton hadn’t visited in months.
“Not too far. That ain’t the point, though. If Forrester finds this place, it’d take a lot longer for the cops to arrive than for him to sh—” She broke off and amended, “For him to do the worst. You need more of a bodyguard. Someone who’d be here all the time even when I’m not around.”
“I don’t know. What if the agents get mad that we’re not following orders?” They might just pull out, leave them to Forrester. Just the thought of the chance they were taking had his palms going slick. Yeah, they hadn’t found Forrester yet, but he trusted them more than someone he hadn’t even seen in years.
“They don’t need to know everything,” Tina snapped. She was smoking in quick little puffs, a sure sign she was getting pissed.
A sudden thought occurred. “Is he really my uncle? Or . . .” Distaste twisted through him. His mom had a habit of attaching the title to random guys who followed her home. And he knew for sure she and Tami didn’t have a brother.
“As good as. My mom moved us in with his daddy and kids for a while when I was a teen. T’s the only person in my life who’s always been there for me. Once when I was in a heap of trouble for sneaking in way after curfew, he threw a baseball through the window so our parents would forget about being mad at me and yell at him instead.”
“Why didn’t he just help you think of a good excuse for being late?” Dylan asked logically.
“That ain’t the point.” She blew out a thin stream of smoke. Squinted at him through it. “He stuck up for me. He will for you, too, if it comes to that. He’s been helping us right along, though you don’t know it. It was T who found a different car for me when we moved here. I paid him, but this one’s in his name instead of mine. So no one can use the DMV to find us.”
As far as Dylan knew, only cops could access the DMV. But there was no point mentioning that or anything else. It wasn’t like he had any real say in much that went on here. Then her earlier words belatedly registered. “T will have a car? So he could pick me up from school? Just till I get this assignment done?”
His mom shoved herself from the couch and started for her bedroom. “I s’pose. But he ain’t taking you anywhere else. School and home. That much ain’t changed.”
It was enough. Dylan stared at her receding back. They didn’t have to go to Grace’s house. After tomorrow, he could make an excuse for working at school.
He still wasn’t happy about having to share his bedroom with a man he barely recalled. But his mom was right about one thing. T coming might make his life a little more normal.
Just not in the way she thought.
Chapter 29
After failing to find Tina Bandy’s car in the lots of any of the Food Marts, Bruce had picked
one store and watched the doors all day to see if she’d exit. When she hadn’t, he’d headed home, intent on trying another one tomorrow. He’d swung by the school, too, as it was letting out to see if he recognized the kid. If he had, he could have put an end to this mess in a hurry.
The hours he’d spent with nothing to show for it soured his mood. It was a long trek back to the cabin. Shifting his thoughts to the woman he’d taken cheered him. He’d followed a group of females home from a bar, hoping to catch one alone. But they’d stuck together all the way into the motel. He’d been about to leave when he saw the blonde getting out of her vehicle.
Happening upon her in that parking lot was a sign, his granny would have said. His mind wandered, as it often did, to his grandmother. She’d been a weird old gal. Given to believing she had powers like some sort of voodoo queen. The old bat had thought being deprived of oxygen brought visions. So sometimes she’d have him choke her unconscious. She’d taught him exactly where to place his hands and for how long. The memory flooded him with warmth. Watching the consciousness fade from her eyes had always given him a woody.
She might have been half-loony, but she’d sparked a fascination that had lasted throughout his life. The act of dying was riveting.
And he liked to watch.
Chapter 30
“Forget a different vehicle,” Miguel said when Cady walked into the office. “We’re getting you an armored truck.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re stuck riding with me for the duration.” When Allen had said he’d name another marshal to attach to her hip for the foreseeable future, she’d figured it’d be Miguel. They often partnered together.
“I’m the obvious choice.” His breezy tone didn’t hide the worry in his gaze. “Bullets bounce off me. Seriously, though. Too damn close yesterday.”
“No kidding.” She draped her coat on the back of the chair. Sat.
“You’ll be happy to know that while you were dodging bullets, I was doing the equally valiant but less attention-getting task of contacting those names from the Madison County detention center.”
“From the night Forrester was arrested there? You’re officially my hero.” She hadn’t made contact with more than ten people on the list yet, with zero results.
“That’d mean so much more if I didn’t know how easily you throw that word around. How is the super canine today?” He handed her an untouched cup of coffee from his desk. Cady’s brows rose. Solicitude from Rodriguez was almost—almost—worth getting shot at. She took a sip.
“Vet wasn’t open today yet, but I saw Hero yesterday. He was still groggy from surgery. I expect he’ll be raising hell soon about being kept in that kennel.” At least she hoped so.
Miguel handed her a list, and she scanned the names he’d crossed off. Between his efforts and hers, they were almost through the Madison County inmates. “Did you get anything from these contacts?”
“Very little. A few remembered Forrester. A couple recalled him in the cell with Byrd. No one claimed to have spoken to either man.”
It was about what she expected. The task was something to be checked off, nothing more. And now that they had a weapon—and soon cyber forensics on Fielding’s phone—whatever information they might get from a former inmate on that list was likely to pale in comparison.
As if to underscore that thought, the cell in her pocket buzzed. She pulled it out. Checked the screen before answering. “Marshal Maddix.”
“Marshal. This is Jim Upton at Craggy Correctional.”
“Good morning, Warden.” She turned toward Miguel, who was clearly eavesdropping.
“It’s a bit of a surprise, but Stephen Tillis has agreed to your request for an interview.”
Her brows rose. “Happy to hear that. Is he usually less cooperative?”
Upton gave a short laugh. “That’s not an adjective I’d use in conjunction with him. Maybe his upcoming parole hearing is a factor in his decision. When would you like us to arrange the meeting?”
“Is an hour too soon?”
“I think we can manage that. I’ll let security know that you’re expected.”
“Thank you.” When she disconnected, Miguel was already up, reaching for his coat.
“If I have to wear a vest, why wouldn’t you need one if we’re together?”
Looking pained, he turned toward the door. “It’s in my truck. I assume I’m driving again.”
It was probably wiser than taking the car she’d rented and driven here today. But it meant shelving their usual turn-taking behind the wheel. “You’ve gotten lucky, Rodriguez.” They jogged down the steps facing the parking lot, and Miguel used his fob to open the door. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. Eventually, I will get another vehicle.” She hoped.
Despite allegedly agreeing to this interview, Stephen Tillis did not look happy to see them. With shackles on his wrists and ankles, he was seated at a scarred table in a small interview room. When Cady and Miguel walked in, a guard stayed outside the door.
Tillis’s shaven head gleamed under the lights. His dark mustache and goatee were shot with silver. He watched them impassively as they entered.
“Deputy US Marshals Maddix and Rodriguez.” Cady pulled out a chair opposite the man. Miguel remained standing. “Thank you for speaking with us.”
“Never heard of a woman marshal before.”
“There are more of us than you’d think.” She didn’t flinch from the man’s baleful gaze. “I’d like to talk to you about the events in Hope Mills five years ago. In Hanson Woods.”
He blinked. “What for?”
“Because we’re working a warrant for Bruce Forrester, and maybe you can help us find him.”
“Shee-it. Wondered what marshals would want with me. I don’t know nothing ’bout Forrester.”
“You know him.”
“Used to.”
“How well?”
He stared at her for a long time and then away, as if making up his mind about something. “I told the cops everything back then.”
“You weren’t in those woods, you didn’t know anything about the drug ring, you were fishing alone in the creek, and you didn’t see anything.”
He smirked. “Sounds like you read the statement.”
“I also know you lied on it.” Anger clouded his features. “Two witnesses place you in the woods with the other three men. Even more can attest to your friendship with Forrester and Loomer.” A bartender and a neighbor had stated that the three had been seen together on more than one occasion.
“Don’t mean we were together that night.” He was silent for a minute. “Say I did hear something, though. Maybe I set my fishing pole down and went into the woods to see what was going on.”
So he was sticking with the innocent fisherman story. Half-amused, Cady said nothing, although she wondered what the man had to lose by coming clean at this point.
“There was a clearing, like. That’s where they were cooking. I got a pretty good look. Recognized the three men.”
“Their names?”
“You know.” He sounded impatient. “Forrester. Loomer. Weber.”
“What else could you see in the clearing?” Cady asked.
He shrugged. “Stuff strewn around. What they use to make that shit.”
So far, his big reveal was a bust. “Did you see anyone besides those three men?”
“No, but . . .” She waited for him to go on, but he was stroking his goatee, thinking. “Okay, there was a tent. Farther off from the clearing, but it had to have been theirs, because it was close enough that they’d see it.”
Interest sparked inside her. Although Dylan had claimed to have seen a tan tent, Weber had denied one had been in the vicinity. “Describe it.”
“Not a big camping tent. A pup tent, I guess you’d call it. Only fits one or two people, if they was to sleep in it.”
“What color was it?”
He stroked his beard again. “Brownish. I don’t know. It was
moving around like someone was in there. I figured it was a woman, maybe a whore they’d brought along for later.”
Everything inside Cady stilled. “Did Forrester frequent prostitutes?”
“He had a taste for ’em. Probably because they don’t run to the cops.”
He liked the rougher stuff. Weber’s statement took on new meaning. “Did he ever express a sexual interest in children?”
“Not to me.”
“There were two young boys in the woods that night. Did you see them?”
“Nope.”
“Did you hear shouting? A commotion?”
“Like I told the cops back then, I moved down the bank some and didn’t see or hear nothing else.”
Cady tried a bit longer, but after a couple more minutes of questioning, it was clear they’d reached the limits of Tillis’s cooperation. Finally, she rose. “Thank you for your time.”
“What if I could tell you something else about Forrester?”
Exchanging a glance with Miguel, she sank back into her seat. “Like what?”
His wrist manacles clanked when he clasped his hands on the table between them. “Say I heard something once. Something no one else knows about.”
“Like . . . ?”
“Like where he buried a body. Pieces of it anyway.”
Her heart rate sped up. This was a new twist. “Who?”
“Guy by the name of Brady Boss. The guy tried to knife him. Forrester was waiting when he got out on bail.” His lips twisted in amusement. “Payback time.”
Cady’s mind flashed to the conversation with Weber. Used a chain saw on him, then got rid of the pieces. “How’d he kill him?”
Tillis lifted a shoulder. “All I know—what I heard,” he corrected himself, “is the body parts were dumped in Cutter’s Swamp, between Hope Mills and Fayetteville.” He sat back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. “You check that out and then tell the warden about my help.”