Exposed in Darkness

by Heather Sunseri

  “Unfortunately, that won’t be a part of the tour, but—” Freddy raised a finger, “—I can tell you this: the merlot barrels used for the finish on the latest special batch are being auctioned off at a fundraiser for Mr. O’Roark’s foundation the Friday before the Bluegrass Derby. So, if you’re interested in attending the gala and fundraiser, be sure to provide your contact information to the nice people at the gift shop.”

  “What about bottles of the special batch? Will there be bottles of it available at the fundraiser?”

  I rolled my eyes at the Volunteer, but Freddy didn’t miss a beat. “You never know with our master crafter. He’s been known to pull special batches out of the rabbit’s hat when you least expect it.” Freddy led us back outside. “Now, if you’ll follow me.”

  We followed Freddy out of the dark warehouse and walked along a creek bed.

  “This is Elkhorn Creek,” Freddy said, gesturing to the stream of water. “Now, to be called bourbon, the spirit has to be made mostly of corn, distilled in new, charred-oak barrels, and it must be made in the United States. That’s the law. But according to Mr. O’Roark and his silent partner, who is also a master crafter, bourbon must also be made from limestone water to be bourbon worth drinking.”

  “Why limestone water?” the bride asked.

  “Because limestone naturally filters out iron, which gives bourbon a bad taste. Plus the limestone has a high pH level, which helps with the fermentation.”

  The entire tour was interesting, to say the least, and Freddy was a master storyteller, but I was no closer to my goal: understanding where in the process someone could add a contaminant that would be strong enough to kill someone. And I, like the annoying Volunteer, wanted to know where the special batches were stored.

  Toward the end of the tour, Freddy showed us where the bourbon was bottled, but he was quick to explain that the special batches were only bottled at specific times when the distillery was not open to the public.

  Freddy did make good on his promise for a special tasting at the end of the tour. The group was delighted to get a tasting of one of Declan’s special batches, just not his latest Bluegrass Derby batch.

  Ty and I declined the tasting, thanked Freddy, and exited the tasting area to roam the outside grounds.

  “It would have to have been in the actual bottling process,” I said, continuing through my thought process on how someone could have contaminated the bourbon that killed DeBeers. “Or just before it, I suppose.”

  “Someone would have to have a lot of chemical in order to contaminate an entire barrel of bourbon. And you’d have to think the alcohol would dilute the effects of the contaminate in some way, right?”

  “Not if the poison reacted lethally when mixed with alcohol. That’s a big ‘if’ though.”

  We were staring out toward the creek that curled in and around the property, giving the landowners the water they needed. “Want to tell me what that look in there was for?” Ty asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I suggested that Declan O’Roark could have produced his own poison, you practically sliced me up with your eyes.”

  I turned back to take in the acres of land that spread out in front of us. I ran my fingers across my lips, thinking about the previous night.

  “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

  I whipped around. “What? No. Of course not.”

  He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized my face. “No, but something’s happened. You definitely don’t think he’s guilty.”

  “No, I don’t think he killed those two people.” I turned my back on Ty again. “The fact that he’s a chemist certainly complicates things though.”

  “I’m sure Donaldson and Salazar are zeroing in on him based on that fact.”

  I began processing the stories Freddy had told about Elkhorn Reserve. “Hard to believe someone has been crafting bourbon on this land since the early eighteen hundreds.” I faced Ty again. “Freddy said that Declan took over the distillery two years ago, right?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “He didn’t purchase the distillery, he took it over. So, he was the favored one picked to take over the family distillery business. Freddy said generations of the same family have crafted bourbon on this land for more than two hundred years. Yet apparently, Declan sold half the business to someone outside the family.”

  “So. Who did O’Roark sell the other fifty percent to?” Ty asked.

  “And what family member did it piss off?”

  Chapter 17

  I rushed around the cottage, packing an overnight bag.

  “You are so going to sleep with him,” Ty said, tossing a pistachio in the air and catching it in his mouth.

  I stopped and stared at him with what I was positive was a look of pure horror.

  He straightened. “And you should. That was not judgment; that was excitement. If anyone deserves a night of… well, you know… it’s definitely you. Just keep your gun close.”

  “Seriously?” I gasped.

  “What? You’re hardly ever wrong, but just in case…”

  “I’m not going to sleep with him,” I said, and I meant it.

  Mostly.

  For one, he was still a person of interest in an ongoing murder investigation.

  And it was still too soon. I loved my husband.

  I dropped my bag, returned to the bathroom just to verify I hadn’t forgotten anything. “And I’m not wrong about him,” I yelled over my shoulder as I walked.

  “I know, sweetie.”

  Ty was back to typing on his computer when I returned to the living room. “Okay, I think that’s it,” I said. “I’ll be back day after tomorrow. Your job is to monitor the chat rooms. Also, see if you can figure out Declan’s silent partner in the bourbon business in case he won’t tell me without a court order. And see what you can find out about his family. Who’s he in close contact with? Who hates his guts?” A man didn’t get to where he was in the world of business at such a young age and not have some enemies.

  Ty set his laptop aside, stood, and wrapped his arms around me. “Seriously, girl, try to enjoy yourself. Don’t let this case take over your personal life.”

  I hugged him back. “This trip is not personal,” I reminded him.

  He released me, and I made my way to the front door. I swung the door open—and stopped short when I came face to face with Mike and Carlos.

  “Going somewhere?” Mike asked.

  “What do you want?”

  He nudged past me. Carlos gave me an apologetic look. “Hey, Brooke.”

  “Hi, Carlos.”

  Carlos lifted his hands, handing me the computer he’d taken from my house in Virginia. “It’s clean.”

  “Get anything useful off of it?” I asked with a smug grin. I didn’t leave anything on my computer that might tell a federal agent, or anyone else, what I’d been up to the past year.

  “Your guy infected it with some sort of malware,” Carlos said. “One that would allow him to monitor all your internet searches, as well as tell him your exact location if you were to move. We removed it.”

  Mike bypassed Ty and peered into my bedroom, then the bathroom—looking for what, I had no idea. “Anyone else here?” he asked.

  “Why would anyone else be here?”

  “Well, we hear you’ve been making a lot of friends.” He looked over at Ty. “What’s Jamison doing here?”

  “Why do you have to be such a jerk?” I let my overnight bag drop to the floor. “Tell me what you want and get out. I’m busy.”

  His eyes lowered to analyze the bag at my feet. “You didn’t answer. Are you going somewhere?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “The director made it my business when he asked me to get you involved.”

  I smiled. “I didn’t agree to answer to you.”

  “Well, you answer to the director.” Mike pulled out his phone. “So, why don’t I get him on the phone, and you can
give him the update we need.”

  “Fine.” Sighing, I gestured toward the kitchen table. “By all means, sit.” I could pretend to work with these two. I needed information from them as much as they needed it from me. “Carlos, would you like something to drink? Or does your partner allow that sort of thing?” I walked toward the kitchen.

  Carlos chuckled. “Ice water would be nice.”

  They both took seats at the table. I didn’t bother to ask Mike what he wanted. I just fixed him the water and set it in front of him.

  He shot me a hard look. “Jamison is going to need to leave.” Mike referred to Ty by his last name just to emphasize they weren’t friends.

  I started to protest, but I wasn’t ready for Ty to know why I had agreed to work with the FBI. I hadn’t told Ty that the director had promised to give me information about Teddy’s murder, because I knew Ty would be disappointed with me for sliding backwards after he’d spent the last year pulling me out of the bowels of despair.

  Ty pushed off the couch, taking his laptop with him. “I’m going to go get some dinner.”

  I glanced at my watch. It was nearing seven p.m., and I knew Declan was expecting me. Ty kissed the top of my head in a protective, brotherly sort of way, then glared at Mike before he left.

  “You know he doesn’t have the clearance that you do,” Mike said when Ty was gone.

  Sitting across from Mike, I leaned forward with a hard stare. “Don’t come in here and talk to me like you have some say in how I do my job.”

  Carlos took a drink. “This is never going to work if the two of you can’t put your personal feelings aside.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. Plus I had somewhere I needed to be. “Why don’t you go first. What’s the latest? Surely you two had a reason for coming here other than bringing back that computer.”

  “The coffee at the B&B wasn’t tainted,” Carlos said.

  “What? There was nothing in it?” I sat back in my chair. “That asshole!”

  “Your CHS lied to you,” Mike said, stating the obvious. “Does that really surprise you?”

  “He’s never lied to you before, has he?” Carlos asked.

  “No, never.” Romeo had been providing me information off and on for years. It had started almost as soon as I’d begun my career with the Bureau as a field agent. His behavior became more stalker-like about six months before I left the Bureau—shortly after I’d become a full-time analyst. “You think he’s angry that I left the job? And wants to punish me in some way? Is that why he hunted down my email address and phone number?”

  “I don’t know, but the director isn’t taking any chances.”

  I lifted my gaze to Mike. “Meaning?”

  “It means, we are a team. The three of us.” Mike pointed around the table.

  I scooted away from the table. “Oh, no. No way. I work behind the scenes, gathering information. Not side by side with other agents. That’s the deal.”

  “Not this time,” Mike said. “And can you blame him? After—”

  “Mike,” Carlos said in warning.

  The muscles in my neck tightened. I knew that Mike had been about to bring up what had happened with Teddy. My right hand squeezed into a fist.

  Mike’s face fell. He looked across the table at me. “I’m sorry.” His voice was low. “Let’s talk about Declan O’Roark. You’ve obviously gotten closer to him.”

  “And how is that obvious?”

  “He seemed quite interested in you at the B&B the other morning. You think he’s hiding something?”

  “I don’t think he killed the lieutenant governor or that kid, if that’s what you’re asking.” But hiding something? Most definitely. I was starting to consider that a fundamental part of his personality.

  “Is he being helpful?”

  “He’s keeping my identity a secret and allowing me access to his racing stable. He’s also been willing to answer questions.” I left out the part about him taking me to his laboratory in Chicago tomorrow.

  “Well, I have some questions for him. You and I will pay him a visit first thing tomorrow morning.”

  I massaged the pressure point between my thumb and forefinger under the table. I would not be partnering up with Mike Donaldson to do jack shit.

  My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I knew it was probably Declan wondering where I was.

  “Fine,” I said. “Come pick me up tomorrow morning, and I’ll be happy to go with you to question Mr. O’Roark.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Carlos studying me. Would he call my bluff?

  I decided not to give him the chance. “By the way, what made you so interested in Declan O’Roark in the first place? You seemed to know him, or at least his name, before you arrived in Kentucky.”

  Mike glanced at Carlos, then back at me. “His name appeared in Teddy’s notes.”

  My pulse picked up speed. “What notes?”

  Mike flexed his fingers and curled them into fists.

  “What notes, Mike?” I asked again. “Why have I never seen these notes?”

  “I don’t know. Because you left? Because when Teddy died, you checked out and refused to deal with reality and help solve his murder.”

  My eyes burned, but I managed to keep my emotions from surfacing.

  There had been reasons I hadn’t helped with the cleanup of Teddy’s files. There had been reasons I had turned my back on solving his murder, or any of his outstanding cases. The director knew this, but he had promised me he would keep it from the other agents—including Teddy’s best friend, Mike.

  “You’re telling me Declan O’Roark’s name was in Teddy’s case files? The case he was working on when he was killed?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “Why didn’t you question him as soon as you found the name?”

  “We interviewed him a year ago. At the time, we couldn’t find any reason for Teddy’s interest in him, other than he might have had knowledge about the chemicals Teddy had been gathering information on. We decided Teddy must have thought he could help in some way. We knew that O’Roark and Teddy’s brother were acquaintances, but that’s where the trail ended. And he didn’t give us any reason to suspect him as part of any ongoing investigation.”

  “There’re an awful lot of big coincidences to this case—if that’s what they are,” Carlos added.

  “Exactly,” Mike agreed. “O’Roark’s bourbon. O’Roark owns a laboratory. O’Roark is a chemist. And O’Roark’s name just happened to be in the FBI case files of a previous case involving chemical warfare.”

  “Did he own this laboratory—where, by the way, you only suspect he has a stockpile of tacin—at the time he was questioned?” My tone continued to be defiant, but I was starting to doubt my declaration of Declan’s innocence.

  “No.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  “But now there’ve been a couple of murders. And Declan O’Roark either already owns a supply of the poison that killed those two people, or, at a minimum, he has the means and ability to make it.”

  “He definitely had the means and the opportunity to commit these crimes,” Carlos added.

  “But he has no motive,” I said.

  “Right,” Mike agreed.

  “Which is why you want me to continue to get closer to him.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But be careful,” Carlos said. “I’ve met a lot of nice criminals since I became an agent.”

  My phone buzzed in my back pocket again. I stood. “Anything else?”

  Both men stood, trading looks. “I still want to question O’Roark myself tomorrow morning at his office.”

  “Fine.”

  My phone buzzed again as I was placing my overnight bag in the back of my car.

  “I’m sorry, I got delayed,” I said as an answer.

  “That’s not why I’m calling.” Declan’s voice sounded strange. It was low, and had an edge to it, like he was upset or angry. A
horse neighed in the background.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at Kensington. Something’s happened.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Several beats passed. Declan was silent. I heard Aidan’s voice.

  Had something happened to On Liam’s Watch or one of the other horses? “I’m on my way.” I dug my keys from my pocket and slid in behind the wheel.

  The phone went silent, and I knew he had hung up. I tossed my phone in the seat beside me. He hadn’t tried to stop me from coming, and he’d said very little, but I knew something was terribly wrong. My hands shook as I pulled away from the curb and headed toward the back roads that would deliver me to the racetrack more quickly.

  As I drove, I ran through the possibilities in my mind. Had On Liam’s Watch gotten sick? Had he kicked the stall and injured himself?

  My phone buzzed. I reached for it and saw that I had a text from a phone number not programmed into my phone.

  I might have been mistaken about the coffee, but no mistake this time. There’s something in the water at Kensington.

  Then a second text:

  Follow the tulips.

  “What the hell does that mean?” I asked out loud.

  I pressed on the gas and whipped around curves and over hills on the narrow back roads leading to Kensington Race Track. The closer I got, the more I worried about what I might find.

  As I crested the hill before descending into the parking lot in front of the training barns, I saw the lights of police cars. Five of them. Plus two ambulances. The sun was just starting to set, and the lights flashed brightly in the shadows of the barns and the surrounding trees.

  I examined the vehicles and saw no equine ambulances. This didn’t make me relax, but it was telling.

  I screeched to a stop beside the police cars and barely got my seat belt off before I tore from the car and sprinted toward Aidan Gallagher’s training barn.

  I was jogging down the path between barns when Declan came into sight. He closed the distance between us and grabbed my arms, stopping me from going any further. All I could see over his shoulders was a swarm of Lexington police officers.

  “What is it? What’s happened?” I tried to look around him, but at his insistence, I stared up into his eyes.