Intrigue Books 1-6

by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron

  “Thank Maude,” he answered, hoping to lighten the moment for her. “She totally floored me.”

  Again a small smile, as if it were almost painful. “I hear she can be surprising at times. Never happened to me, though.”

  “Maybe she has a thing for handsome men.”

  That startled a short laugh out of her, and she began to look more relaxed. “So you’ve got an ego?”

  “Of course. I just hide it well.”

  Her smile widened a tiny bit. Maybe that’s all he could hope for just then. The murders had been really hard on her, and it might be taking some time to come back from them. Maybe she never would.

  People with caring hearts and strong consciences often carried guilt like hers, even when it wasn’t justified. It was awful, though, that she felt responsible for her brother’s death.

  He supposed a psychologist would remind her that her brother had a mind of his own, that she was depriving him of his own autonomy to think he’d joined the Army solely because of her. Or maybe a psychologist wouldn’t say that. He wasn’t one himself and wasn’t going to dip his toes into those waters.

  A few minutes later, Candy spoke again. “You’re seriously considering that the Castelles, or one of them at least, might be behind this?”

  “No stone unturned,” he tried to say lightly. Maybe it was the cop in him, but he’d found that if a guy narrowed his focus too much on a presumed idea, then he could miss important things.

  “Doesn’t seem possible,” she answered. “Not from what I saw anyway.”

  “Nope. But the public face is often different from the private face. You wouldn’t believe some of the criminals I’ve locked up that everyone thinks is nice, pleasant, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Some things just can’t be believed, at least not safely.”

  She nodded, putting down her fork, the pie only partly eaten. “I can see that. It still doesn’t seem possible.”

  “Maybe it isn’t. But what matters here is one small child, not anyone else.”

  At last her tension seemed to be fleeing, her shoulders growing more relaxed, a half smile coming to her face. “Maybe you’re right. The family seems too pat.”

  “Exactly. As if they emerged from a TV show from fifty or sixty years ago. It’s always possible that they’re exactly what they look like.”

  But nothing left to chance.

  Then his cell phone rang. Courtesy made him ask, “Okay if I take this?”

  “Please.”

  He’d never understand how some people thought it was okay to answer a phone even if they were in the middle of a conversation. When had phones taken precedence over everything else?

  Well, his just had, he decided. Even though he’d asked, which most people didn’t. As if everyone was supposed to understand that a phone call was more important than they were.

  He didn’t bother leaving the table. His latte was there and, more important, he wasn’t aware of any secrets that were likely to come across the phone. Candy was welcome to listen if she cared to.

  It turned out to be his researcher. “Dena,” he said cheerfully. “Got the dirt for me?”

  “You bet,” she answered. “You might want a pencil and some paper.”

  He paused. “That much?”

  “Mostly basic details.”

  “Give me a minute.” He lowered the phone and looked at Candy. “My researcher. You have any easy to access paper and pen?”

  She rose and pulled the memo list off her refrigerator, and a pen out of a holder that was stuck there, as well.

  “Thanks.” He put the phone to his ear. “I’m ready, Dena.”

  He listened, scribbling down some high points. “You emailing that to me? Thanks a bunch.”

  “You owe me a scotch next time I see you.”

  Steve laughed. “You got it.”

  When he disconnected, he sat for a minute, thinking. Then he looked at Candy. “That perfect little family?”

  She leaned forward. “Yes?”

  “Todd’s got a conviction for possession of drugs. They tried to nail him with trafficking.”

  Candy drew a sharp breath. “My God. You were right.”

  “Perfect on the outside, maybe not on the inside. How would you look at this?”

  She hesitated visibly. “Nothing good springs to mind,” she said eventually. “But you’re the experienced detective.”

  “Well, what I see is trouble. Todd could indeed have been trafficking. The amount at arrest may have been too small to convince a judge or a jury. I need the details. In the meantime, who knows who he was dealing with.”

  She nodded. “Damn, Steve. You were right. Who knows what they were running from?”

  “Or who might be scaring their little girl. Todd doesn’t sound like the pillar of decency anymore.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Steve drove back to the motel, glad he’d decided not to babysit equipment tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

  He fought an internal battle with himself, however. His thoughts kept turning toward Candy, as if she were a lodestone and he was a piece of metal.

  Damn, she was attractive. The urge to explore her every hill and hollow was beginning to preoccupy him entirely too much. The worst of it was, he didn’t want to make her uneasy with some unwelcome advance. It had penetrated even his thick-skulled male brain that a lot of women hated it if they were made to feel like sex objects.

  Not that he thought of Candy in only that way. Hell no. He liked plenty of the rest of her. She was smart and showed a restraint with him and his ghost hunting that he found admirable. So far she hadn’t popped her cork and told him he was a conscienceless scam operator.

  Nope. He even thought he might be winning her over to the possibility that he could be an honest man. Well, as honest as any person could be about themselves.

  But the Castelles pulled him in a different direction. Todd had a drug conviction. He wanted to read his email from Dena to get all the details.

  Because messing with drug gangs could get a whole lot more than messy. Because that marriage might not be as stable as it appeared on the outside. Because some unscrupulous sort thought he might torment Todd by tormenting his daughter.

  Forget the psychic. There were bigger things afoot here than a self-deluded man who thought he was hearing voices.

  He ran into the truck stop grill just long enough to get more coffee, then returned to his room, where he sat at the tiny table and opened his laptop.

  He could read email on his phone, but he hated to unless the messages were short. Old man, he told himself. Not that he was that old, but he was way behind on this era of technology. Or at least in adopting it. People used to have face-to-face conversations, he thought. They’d sit down and talk to each other without reading their phones at the same time.

  Then he almost laughed at himself. He wasn’t old enough yet to turn into that guy screaming, “Get off my lawn!”

  At least he hoped he wasn’t.

  Once again his mind tried to head back to Candy, but he yanked it away. Too many pitfalls, then add that to the likelihood that Candy wouldn’t consider moving back to California—at least that’s where he assumed she came from. She’d made her reasons clear for not wanting to go home again.

  He hoped she’d get past that, but it was unlikely it would happen anytime soon. So what would he offer her?

  A one-night stand, that’s what.

  Self-disgust filled him and he diverted back to the Castelles. As he read Dena’s email, his concern about them grew.

  Todd had been arrested, all right. For trafficking in drugs. The conviction for personal use had been granted by a judge who was evidently sympathetic to guys who were employed and had families. Or maybe because he was a handsome white guy.

  An unbiased view of the criminal justice system said so. He’d
seen enough cases to believe it, and much as he wanted to change that, he wasn’t in the position. Charging was in the hands of the prosecutors. Convictions were in the hands of judges and juries, neither of which were totally impartial.

  He sighed and continued reading. Todd had been sentenced to drug rehab, followed by community service for another year. He’d completed it all.

  But that didn’t mean it hadn’t created stresses in that marriage. Maybe the family had moved out here to sever Todd’s relationships with the wrong sort of people.

  Or maybe they’d moved out here to get him away from drugs. Not a bad idea if it worked.

  Or maybe they’d moved out here because he owed money to the wrong people.

  The last one was the idea that concerned him most. There were some people on this planet whom you never wanted to owe money. People who weren’t above killing you.

  People who weren’t above threatening you by showing how defenseless your kid really was.

  Annabelle had mentioned they needed a bigger place to live that didn’t exceed the constraints of their budget. He wondered if that was because they really didn’t make a lot of money, or because they were trying to pay off someone.

  Hell. This case had just grown complicated. It might not be about calming that family. It might be about protecting that little girl from very real danger.

  Time to put on his detective’s hat again. Time to get into that mind-set. He could do that without sacrificing his paranormal investigation. That much he still had to do.

  Although ghost hunting had just taken a huge back seat to reality.

  * * *

  IN THE MORNING, just as the sun had begun to find its way into Conard City, he got a phone call from his producer, Etta Miller.

  No holds barred on either side.

  “Etta, this whole thing got complicated by a criminal past. I don’t know if that’s involved in this, but we may not have a show.”

  She sighed. “Steve, Steve, Steve.”

  “You know I don’t lie to audiences.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “It was our agreement for me to do this program, so live with it. There are things I will not expose.”

  “I get it. But you’d better get on the stick with that psychic. He could be useful if this turns out to be on the up-and-up. Introduce him to the family to see how it works out.”

  Double damn, he thought as he ended the call.

  But another thought wormed into his mind. What if the Castelles had been in hiding? Now that they’d been discovered, they might have thought that putting themselves on a nationally broadcast TV show could offer protection. With their identities out there, maybe no one would dare touch them.

  He’d seen too much of this stuff when he’d been in law enforcement. He’d thought he might never see it again.

  So much for pipe dreams.

  * * *

  CANDY HAD FALLEN asleep the night before thinking about what Steve had learned about the Castelles. If that were true, then this county might get a national shakeup whether people wanted it or not. Drug rings? What if that was ongoing?

  She was supposed to be preventing that kind of stuff. Ha! Fat chance on this one.

  But she woke in the morning from a much more pleasant dream. About Steve having remained last night. About the two of them making love.

  As her eyes opened, her body felt flushed but she also felt like warm honey from head to toe. Softened. Pliant.

  Abruptly she threw back the covers and welcomed the chilly air in the bedroom. Crazy. Just crazy.

  Any relationship with Steve would be abbreviated in a few short weeks. Hardly more than a one-night stand. She’d had that kind of relationship only once before in her life and had vowed never to repeat it. It hurt too much. It had somehow made her feel dirty, used.

  Nope. Not gonna happen.

  A hot shower helped a little, especially when she stepped out into the cold air onto the bathmat. All wet, she began to shiver. That’d quell any errant desires, she told herself.

  Later, her stomach full of warm grits and cheese, she donned her uniform and headed to the office. Now she felt an itch to research the Castelles herself and she still had to search for Ivy Bride. She hoped she’d find the woman had moved to somewhere far away.

  As for the Castelles, it felt counterintuitive to her for them to want to be on TV if they were running from anything at all, most especially bad people. Steve held a different opinion, and she wanted to hear more of his thoughts on that.

  She’d seen a different look about him last night. Something darker, less lighthearted. Something so focused she wouldn’t want to be the object of that gaze.

  The detective, she supposed. That part she might not mind watching in action. She had plenty to learn.

  But research was next on her agenda, and as she drove the official SUV that she’d parked at her house last night, she thought about which case should be her starting point.

  Finding Ivy Bride struck her as important. Nate had been right. It was time to lay the man to rest, if she could.

  The Castelles... Well, she didn’t doubt that Steve would be hot on that case. He’d probably share with her, too, as he had last night.

  This whole thing was getting a lot messier than she’d anticipated when she’d been assigned to liaise with a ghost hunter.

  On the other hand, it had grown a lot more fascinating.

  Once at the office, after greeting the others, she took a desk in the back of the wide-open duty area, away from conversations and distractions, and set to work.

  Ivy Bride first. It proved easy enough to come up with the woman’s maiden name, Haskell. She started the databases running, looking for obits for Ivy Bride, Ivy Haskell Bride and Ivy Haskell. Responses came slowly.

  Well, yeah, she was searching a period sixty years ago. Many items hadn’t been digitized, and when public records had made their way into databases, they were huge ones.

  Taking advantage of the lost time, she went to Maude’s to get coffee. If Velma scowled at her when she brought it back, Candy never noticed. It wouldn’t surprise her if Velma was in on the joke and just never let anyone know. As she’d begun to discover, the woman could have a wicked sense of humor.

  Velma was certainly too smart not to have noticed the collection of antacids against the wall behind the coffee mugs. Or maybe she was just stubborn.

  In Velma’s shoes, Candy would have tipped over the coffee urn and told everyone to get their own coffee. A big difference in temperament, which might be part of the reason Velma had kept her job for so long. Candy imagined that dealing with all these deputies, all the comms and all the crimes required a pretty calm personality.

  When she returned to the desk, the computer search had started to turn up names. Sheesh, who would have thought there were so many women named Ivy Haskell. She was able to eliminate all of them by time frame. Born too late, couldn’t possibly have lived to be one hundred and twenty. Not likely at any rate. Way too young to have been a married woman all those decades ago.

  She worked at finding a way to narrow the search parameters even more by dates to reduce the number of results. She figured it out and put the computer to work again.

  She also needed to hunt for name changes, she decided. Ivy Haskell Bride would have had to use her full name in order to change it by court order. Then there was always the possibility of a marriage. Just because Bride hadn’t ever mentioned a divorce didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Plus, dissolution of marriage often gave a person a built-in way to change their name to anything they wanted.

  So next, marriages and divorces. Then name changes. All public documents. But man, waiting for a computer to check public databases from all over the country was going to drive her nuts. She might as well go for a stroll, tap dance in the park or spend time at Maude’s listening to the casual
conversation as it wrapped around her.

  Or she could just sit here with her coffee and practice the patience she had learned while standing post.

  A while later, census reports started popping up. She found one for Ivy Haskell Bride, wife of Samuel Bride, all the way back at 1960, residence listed only as Wyoming. Ivy vanished before the 1970 census. Maybe the census had stopped providing public data on living individuals. If so, it must be causing headaches to genealogical researchers.

  Well, that was another bracket. Name changes after 1960.

  Death notices after 1960. She queried the Social Security database and found nothing. No death report filed there, probably because Ivy had never received Social Security.

  The invisible, missing woman.

  Several frustrated words ran though Candy’s thoughts, but she knew she could dig even deeper if this didn’t turn up more information. There were other databases available, mostly criminal and military. Neither one seemed likely for a farmwife of that era, but she couldn’t skip them.

  And, of course, she needed to check the sheriff’s records to find out when the woman had been reported missing. If she even had.

  The molehill was rapidly turning into a mountain.

  It was also part of her job, whether for this Steve Hawks thing or some other reason. Being a cop wasn’t always romantic or even interesting. Still, given how hard-won this position was, she wouldn’t trade it in for anything.

  * * *

  STEVE HAD OTHER matters on his mind. Candy was dealing with Samuel and Ivy Bride. He needed more info on the Castelles before he went back out there.

  Years as a detective had taught him that he could conceal his suspicions, and right now they were running high. He called Dena again.

  “What, man?” she asked when she answered. “I gave you a bucketload.”

  “I know. But I wonder if you know any more.”

  “As if other stuff would be public record. I’ve got informants on the street, but if I target someone too closely, one of my people could get killed. I’ll ask generally, but that may take a while. Basically, you’re on your own.”