Intrigue Books 1-6

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

  Steve heard a small sound behind him and swung around to see Vivian hiding behind her mother, her face peeping out and looking terrified.

  “That does it,” he said. “Vivian doesn’t want you here. You’re fired. And if you come back, no one will let you in this house. You understand?”

  Fury flickered across Ben Wittes’s face, then vanished.

  “If that’s the way you want it,” he grumbled. “But you’ll be sorry if you miss more information.”

  “You haven’t provided one useful thing. If you think you’ve got something better, then find me in town. Now go.”

  Steve was surprised at the amount of relief he felt as Wittes disappeared down the driveway.

  He turned to look at Annabelle and Vivian.

  “Are you sure that was wise?” Annabelle asked.

  “He offered nothing that I wasn’t able to find out from the old sheriff. Besides—” he squatted and spoke to Vivian “—you didn’t like him, did you?”

  She shook her head. Then she did something that tore his heart. She put her thumb in her mouth.

  “I promise he won’t come back.”

  “Good,” Vivian said around her thumb. “Buddy.”

  Annabelle spoke. “He’s out back, honey. Want him inside?”

  Buddy came charging in, apparently glad of the warm temperature. Well, yeah. That dog had an awfully short coat. Maybe that was why he’d been running nonstop out there.

  Vivian went to the kitchen table, forgetting her thumb. “Chocolate,” she said firmly.

  Annabelle smiled. “I should take out stock in the instant cocoa business.”

  “Sounds like a great idea,” Steve said cheerfully. “I’m going to take a look at your barn, if that’s okay?”

  “Go ahead,” Annabelle answered.

  And where had Todd gone? Steve wondered. Had he just disappeared because Steve had raked up bad memories? Or because he hadn’t been honest with the whole story?

  Hell, there was no way to know if the guy simply wouldn’t tell him.

  Frustrated, Steve headed out to the barn. Waste of his time, probably, but no stone left unturned. A major rule of his life.

  * * *

  CANDY RETURNED HOME around seven in the evening. She’d picked up a sandwich for dinner but had no desire to eat it. Habit had made her buy it. Not even habit could make her eat right then.

  It was hitting her, she realized. Damn, she had feared this, but there was no way to stop it now. She had been cast back into places she never wanted to go again, and now those memories were swimming with memories of what she had seen today.

  More hideous reality. Would she never escape it?

  But the wish vanished in the memories. She began to shake. Had to run to vomit. Returned to her kitchen on shaky legs and tried to make coffee but dropped the pot twice and gave up.

  Then she collapsed at the table and let the sobbing begin. Tears, so many tears, some of them unshed for so long that they demanded to join the outpouring.

  Maybe she was in the wrong job after all. But she recoiled from that idea. Where would she go? What would she do?

  She felt trapped in past and present, unable to live with herself, unable to do anything else. She couldn’t quit. She wasn’t a quitter, and whenever suicide tried to drift through her mind, she tossed it away much more easily than memory.

  Those kids. Those poor kids. But how many other kids had she seen die? Eighteen-year-olds wearing the same uniform as hers. Others, as young as ten or twelve in raggedy clothes, dead because they’d been in the wrong place.

  Too many kids by far. She couldn’t fight it any longer. Memory was taking over and everything else disappeared.

  She even smelled gunpowder. Heard explosions and gunfire. She was back in the ’Stan now with more kids riding her shoulders. The weight threatened to crush her.

  She hardly heard a familiar voice say, “The door was open...”

  Then Steve’s strong arms surrounded her tightly. Hanging on to her as if he wanted to stop her fall. But nothing could. Nothing.

  One of those big hands stroked her hair but she was hardly aware of it. Lost within herself, she couldn’t find a way out.

  She continued sobbing.

  * * *

  STEVE SWEPT HER up in his arms when he felt her soften just a bit and carried her to her bed. Then, lying beside her, he felt her soak his shirt with her tears, felt the tremors run through her. Could almost feel the memories that were swamping her.

  Though he had some himself that would never leave him, he knew they were nothing like Candy’s. If ever he’d wished for a magic wand, he did now.

  And he hated wars because they did this to people. All people.

  * * *

  A LONG TIME LATER, Candy’s tears dried, and her body stopped shaking. He was relieved when she fell asleep.

  He wouldn’t leave, though. She was going to wake feeling fragile, and he refused to disturb her sleep.

  Sleep was healing, and she needed every bit of it she could get.

  He wished he knew if being a cop might eventually desensitize her to memories. Like immersion therapy. Afraid of spiders? Then look at dozens of photos of spiders. Then observe them for real. Maybe eventually let them crawl on you.

  But it probably wouldn’t, he decided. This wasn’t like spiders or anything similar. This was a great gaping wound in her psyche. A little spackle and paint wouldn’t patch it.

  A grim prospect. He had to hope that time would help her heal. But she’d been doing pretty well so far. She’d landed a job, she appeared to be functioning in it.

  Then there was today. He bet she’d gone out to the murder scene this time. Because at her very core she was tough. Tough as steel.

  He liked the woman he knew now. But he damn well admired her strength, especially given where she’d been.

  She didn’t want to see her family for fear of the questions they would ask, worried that they’d see how much she had changed and would start poking around.

  Well, that sounded like a good family, the kind he’d like. Someone just needed to suggest to them that they ought to stay away from anything she didn’t mention herself.

  That thing about feeling responsible for her brother’s death really cut at him, though. She didn’t deserve to feel that way, and her brother most decidedly didn’t deserve it. Give the guy his due for choosing to enlist. Candy hadn’t held him at gunpoint.

  But how could anyone convince her of that? Guilt didn’t yield to logic. Ever.

  He closed his eyes, enjoying having her tucked up against him. He wondered if she’d ever open up to him, a prerequisite for any deep relationship, even friendship.

  That was a decision she had to make for herself, however. She had to come to trust him enough, and he couldn’t see any way to make that happen.

  Sleep crept up on him at last, carrying him away into a world of confusing dreams that were half born of the Castelle situation, half born of his concerns for Candy, and the rest, around the edges, about four hideous murders.

  Even sleep didn’t offer him real escape.

  * * *

  STEVE AWOKE WHILE it was still dark outside, not that it meant much at this time of year, not in these parts anyway.

  Candy had slipped away. He could smell soaps and shampoos and feel humidity: a shower. That sounded good to him, too, but pointless. He didn’t have a change of clothing.

  More important, he wanted to see Candy, to see if she was doing better now.

  The aroma of coffee pulled him down the hallway to the kitchen. The pot, still mostly full, issued an invitation. After he filled a mug, he went looking and found Candy seated in the living room, her feet up on a sofa, staring into space.

  Keeping quiet, he sat in a chair across from her. She’d speak when she was ready. Or not.

>   She looked like hell, though. The dark circles under her eyes announced the rough night she’d had.

  She spoke at last. “You must need to get to work.”

  Was that a suggestion that he should leave? If so, he was in no mood to listen. Not when she looked like that. The Castelles could damn well wait a few hours.

  He decided to speak, choosing to focus on his work. It seemed like the only safe topic right now.

  “I fired the psychic yesterday.”

  Her gaze found him. “Really? I thought you couldn’t.”

  “I have some pull,” he answered. “It’s my show, after all. They give me too much trouble, I walk. Believe me, I know how to walk away.”

  She nodded wearily. “I guess you do.”

  Except from her. Stubbornly, he stayed where he was. “You got any time today?”

  “All day. Gage told me not to come in. But he didn’t tell me not to do my liaising with you.”

  “So you work anyway.” Better for her than thinking about dead kids. Gage was right about that. The man must be pretty good at judging the emotional state of his deputies.

  “Yeah,” she answered listlessly. “Why’d you fire Wittes?”

  “Because he sounds like a rerun of the lore Tate told us about. Nothing new, just a story that may or may not unjustly accuse a man no one even remembers now. Pretty rotten eulogy, if you ask me.”

  “I agree.”

  “But he wasn’t the only reason. He scared Vivian.”

  She appeared to be fully reentering the present. “I’m not surprised, Steve. He’d scare any little kid, and some adults.”

  “No kidding.” He sipped his cooling coffee, ignoring the loss of heat. Hers must have reached room temperature by now, but even though he could have refilled their mugs, he decided not to. All that seemed to be pulling her back from the precipice was focusing on something safe...like his ghost hunt.

  Ha. Safe? This whole thing was beginning to appear less safe by the hour. His cop senses had gone on full alert.

  “I’m not sure those murders aren’t related to the Castelle situation.” Damn! Bad timing to bring up the killings. Where was his head at? The wrong place. He’d evidently lost some caution in the years since he’d quit his department.

  But she didn’t withdraw, didn’t pull into herself. Her gaze had become clearer. The night’s storm seemed to have passed for now.

  “You’re giving me chills,” she remarked. “I need more coffee. Hot this time.”

  “I could run out and get us lattes, if you want.” Much as he didn’t want to leave her, he’d have crawled over glass to do just one thing to make her feel that someone cared. To make her feel even a tiny bit better.

  It shook him a little to realize he’d seldom cared that much for another person. Willing to give the shirt off his back, but to crawl on glass? Oh, he had it bad.

  She smiled slightly. “I’d like that, if you don’t mind.”

  He rose. “I don’t mind at all. What about breakfast? I’m sure Maude will dish up something good. Anything in particular?”

  “Her home fries. I seem to be craving carbs.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Not at all. That kind of stress, or even shock, required something to pump the blood sugar up.

  He pulled on his jacket, not caring how scruffy he probably looked by now. Showering and changing could wait for a better time. He figured he must be breaking the town’s speed limit on his way to the diner.

  But it was still early, and there were few cars on the road. Maude’s seemed to have just opened, and only a handful people sat scattered among the tables.

  “I heard,” Maude said to him across the counter.

  “Yeah. Candy’s...well.”

  Maude nodded. “Ex-soldier, now this. Not what she expected from this job. Load her up?”

  “She specifically mentioned your home fries.”

  Maude frowned, which he was learning to recognize as her smile. “And more,” she said decisively. “You, too?”

  “Filling the tanks,” he agreed.

  He left with four foam containers instead of the two he’d expected, and four extralarge lattes. Maude signaled one of the breakfast customers. “Help Steve here out to his car. Don’t want them lattes spilling. They’re for Candy.”

  Making it even more clear this was caretaking. The guy she had called over smiled faintly. “You betcha. Gotta take care of that girl.”

  “Girl?” Maude snorted. “She’s done more in her life than you’d ever want to see, Bill. She ain’t no girl.”

  Steve wanted to applaud, but Maude didn’t seem like the right woman to applaud. Bill helped him get everything safely stashed in his rental, an achievement with all that coffee. Then Steve was driving back, this time at a sane pace.

  It took him three trips, but he put all the bounty on the kitchen table. Candy emerged from the living room and looked at everything. “Did you rob her?”

  “Maude made up the order. Was I going to argue? I bet one of her glares could turn me to ash.”

  That drew an almost natural smile from Candy. She reached first for a coffee and swallowed half of it before at last taking a seat.

  Steve, meanwhile, opened the containers, revealing enough fried potatoes to feed a small army, followed by a load of scrambled eggs with a stack of bacon, then generous slices of pineapple with a side of cherries. And finally a container filled with some kind of coffee cake.

  “Fit for a king,” he remarked as he gathered up utensils and plates. “Dig in.”

  She finished the first latte, so he pushed a second toward her.

  “Want a shot of whiskey in that?”

  Her gaze rose to his face. “Do you have any?” She sounded surprised.

  “Hell no, but I always thought it would be cool to carry a flask.”

  Another smile, a small sound that might have been an attempt to laugh. She was taking her first steps toward relaxing. He was delighted to see her reaching for potatoes, fruit and bacon. The eggs didn’t seem to interest her, but he could take care of that himself.

  She spoke when she’d made a remarkable dent on breakfast. “You have plans for today?”

  “Absolutely. Join me, please. I’ve got more tapes and recordings to run through, and I’m thinking about a second walk-through with my infrared camera. Then there’s the barn. I did a quick scan yesterday, but a second pair of eyes would be helpful, if you’re willing.”

  She nodded, eating another slice of pineapple before taking a piece of coffee cake. “That barn keeps drawing your attention. Are you sure you’re not obsessed?”

  “Who, me? No, it’s just that it seems like a good hiding place. I need to explore it for signs someone might have been hanging around in there.”

  “Reasonable.” She put her fork down. “I’ve overdone it. I don’t think I’ll want to eat for a week.”

  That made him laugh. “You want me to bet on that?”

  She looked almost sheepish. “I had a lot of training in eat when you can because you don’t know when you’ll get another chance.”

  “I believe it. It’s good to see you filling up, though. And I’m catching up.”

  “Do you work out a lot to keep that figure?”

  Well, that was the most personal thing she’d ever said to him. He liked it. “Some. I don’t overdo it, though. Doing it for health is one reason. Doing it for show is another.”

  He cleaned up when they were done, not a difficult task. A few items in the dishwasher, a few leftovers in the fridge.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Candy didn’t wear her uniform. She sat beside Steve in jeans, a yellow sweater and a quilted jacket. Leather gloves protected her hands.

  “What’s first?” she asked. “Barn? House?”

  “I
see clouds on the horizon, so I want to do the barn first, while we still have decent light.”

  Winter had stolen the last color from the landscape, and the cold ground crunched under their feet as Steve began to pull some industrial-sized flashlights from his trunk.

  “Want one?” he asked.

  “Oh, come on.” She liked his impish smile. Heck, she liked a lot about him, mostly that he hadn’t just run last night. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.

  A lot of people couldn’t handle her episodes. She’d learned that the hard way, losing friends she’d made since her discharge. She hadn’t lost any here yet, but then they hadn’t seen her the way Steve had seen her last night. She was just glad she hadn’t flown into a rage, something that happened occasionally. Rarely, but it did happen.

  Steve stuck his head in the house to tell the Castelles what they were doing. Candy half expected Todd to follow them, but he didn’t.

  “There was more mumbling,” Steve said as he joined her on the walk to the barn. “Vivian’s still upset.”

  “She wasn’t in her room, was she?”

  “No, in the hallway early this morning. On her way to the bathroom.”

  “Damn. That kid ought to be able to go to the bathroom without terror.”

  “You’d think.”

  Light filtered through loose slats in the barn, beams that bounced off enough dust to make them visible.

  “Dang,” Candy said. “Was it windy last night? What stirred up all this dust?”

  Steve simply looked at her and she got the message. No ghost should do that.

  A familiar uneasiness began to creep up her spine to her neck. Hostiles. Then she caught herself. Overreaction.

  Steve spoke. “Let’s start toward the back. When we get halfway through, we can climb the ladders to the hayloft and check around.”

  The loft might be the most dangerous place in this barn if anyone was here.

  Candy’s backbone was stiffening again. She could feel it. Rising to the demands of the moment. If she’d brought one good thing back from the war, that was it.

  The back of the barn wasn’t all that interesting. A tack room empty of everything except a ragged halter that at a touch felt too dried out and stiff to ever be used again.