Within minutes, the mayor’s voice boomed on the line, “It’s about damn time you returned my call Echo.”
“Sorry about that, Mayor, but despite public opinion, I don’t spend all my time at my desk. I do have a several leads we are actively pursuing.”
“Yeah, well, I need to know what’s going on. Every damn time I step out of my office I have some concerned citizen stopping me to find out when I’m going to pull you and put a competent chief in your office or telling me that if I don’t do something about these murders that I won’t get their vote. It’s hard to support your department or your position when I don’t know what the hell’s going on.”
Bringing the Mayor up to speed on the geocaching angle, Tate told the mayor that he had a buddy with the FBI checking serial killer profiles in databases that normal police departments didn’t have access to. “I don’t want that information shared, so please keep just between the two of us,” he said.
Hearing that Tate still had friends with the FBI seamed to pacify the Mayor and they hung up on slightly better terms.
Tate clicked the mail icon on his computer, and opened the new file that Davis had just sent. Scrolling through the list of files on Saralyn’s computer, Tate agreed that it was pretty standard stuff for a young woman. Moving to a roster of her e-mails for the last sixty days, he really wasn’t surprised there wasn’t anything incriminating or suspicious there either. Tate quickly scanned a listing of recently accessed websites and found what he was looking for.
“Bingo,” he said and printed the list out. He grabbed the pages off the printer and rummaged through the desk drawer until he found a blue highlighter. Tate scanned the list pausing to highlight each entry for the geocaching website. It was the same one the Babcock’s used. Once all the entries were noted, he called Martin’s cell.
“Sheriff Crawley,” Martin said.
Sliding his chair back from the desk, Tate propped his feet up on one corner, “It’s me. I got the reports back on Parker’s computer tonight and thought you’d want to know.”
“So what’d you find? Anything there going to help us catch this guy?”
“Not sure, but she did access the same geocaching website as the Babcocks regularly. Twenty-three entries in the last sixty days. Reva didn’t act like they went caching that many times. Has me wondering if Saralyn went with anyone else. Of course, if you think about the fact that she went on the site once to locate caches and then again to log the finds, it’s only about twelve trips, but that is still quite a bit.”
“Yep,” Martin agreed. “I’ll stop by the diner in the morning on my way in and ask Reva to pull out a calendar and figure out how many times they went in the last two months.”
“That’d be great. While you’re there, ask her if she knows anyone else that Saralyn might have cached with or if Saralyn ever went alone.” Tate hesitated a moment, then cleared his throat. “I also talked to a friend in the Bureau and she’s going to do some research on her end for us. Should hear back from her in a day or two.”
“That’s great news. We can use all the help we can get with this case.”
Take sighed his relief. At least Martin didn’t pelt him with questions about Emma. He wasn’t sure he was ready to answer them.
CHAPTER 19
By eight thirty the following morning, Martin and Tate had shared a pot of coffee and a bag of cinnamon rolls from the diner. After logging into the Babcocks’ geocaching account and scanning the finds that Mr. Babcock had logged, they found three entries from the lake in the last two months.
“We need Parker’s log in and password so that we can compare the sites that the Babcocks went to with those that Saralyn and Reva went to,” Martin said.
“Yeah I know,” Tate replied. “I already called our IT guy to see if he could somehow back into that information and I’ve got a call out to the geocaching website owner asking that they provide us with that as well. Pretty sure they’re going to try and put me off, based on their privacy statement. If they do, I’ll get a warrant.”
Martin drained the last of his coffee. “Let me know when you hear back from them. Judge Walker owes me a favor and if we need a warrant, I’ll call him for it. I’ve been thinking about your theory that there’s a leak in the department. I went back over the Parker file and even though the murder happened in town, I did have a responder show up at the scene for back-up. Wanna guess who it was?”
“I was pretty busy that night, and I haven’t had time to check the sign in from the scene but if I were guessing, I’d have to say Chad Green.”
“Well, you’re almost right. It was Pete Green. Seems Chad’s daddy might be the leak. He’s the only officer that was at both scenes and since his wife died last year, he’s a regular at the diner.”
Slamming his hand against his desk, Tate swore, “Son of a bitch. If he’s feeding details to the public, I will make his life a living hell.”
“Now Tate, you know you can’t just walk up to a man and accuse him of something like that. He’d never admit to it. He’s got over twenty years on the County force and he’s well-liked and respected around town.” Martin grinned, “I do have a plan though, want to hear it?” When Tate nodded, Martin continued, “I just reassigned Pete to a new partner. Told him I need an experienced officer with one of the newer recruits. Starting today he’s riding with Amy Moorehouse, but what he doesn’t know is that Amy is on loan from the State Capitol Division of Internal Affairs.”
Tate laughed, “You are one sneaky SOB, Martin.”
“I can’t have someone doing that kind of crap on the team. If he’s the leak then Amy will find out. She’s got plans to stick with him like syrup on a pancake. I’ll keep you posted on what she reports.” Martin grabbed his hat and left.
The rest of the day, Tate jumped every time the phone rang. He told himself he hoped that it would be the lab or the geocaching web owner returning his call, but he really hoped that it would be Emma. He tried to convince himself that it was information on the case that he needed, but Tate was smart enough to realize that he just wanted to hear her voice. He reached for the phone, then stopped. Don’t do it, Echo. Picking up that phone is only going to make you look like a love sick ass. One call and you already forgot to leave the past alone like you promised yourself you would.
Tate glanced at the clock. Six p.m. He slid into his jacket and grabbed his cap to leave when his cell phone rang.
“Tate, it’s Emma. I’m at the Pine Ridge airport. How long will it take you to get here and pick me up?”
Stunned Tate stuttered, “Em, you know I’ll come and get you, hell I’d drive to Virginia to get you if that’s what you want, but why are you here? Why are you in Pine Ridge?”
Laughing nervously Emma said, “I’m on a three week leave from the Bureau and I thought about how long it had been since I’ve seen you…seen your parents.” She paused, “Just come get me, okay?”
Pulling the door closed, Tate headed to the parking lot as they talked. “I’m on my way. But if you’re here because of the murders, then you can just turn around and take your pretty little ass back to Virginia.”
This time Emma laughed a full throaty laugh that had Tate smiling, imagining her with her head tilted back her long hair flowing down her back.
“Just come get me. I have a few weeks off and I wanted to see you. It’s been over a year, you know. I don’t know if I still have a pretty little tail or not so get out here and pick me up. We can sort out the rest.”
Emma Gage-Echo pulled her bag off the luggage carousel at the Pine Ridge Airport and slid the handle up, dragging it behind her as she slipped out the glass double doors of the airport and stood in the passenger pick-up area. Looking at the black hills in the distance, she thought that Tate had been right to leave the FBI and come back here. “This is where he belongs,” she whispered.
Tate had been a great agent and they had been an amazing team until they fell in love. Frustrated that she would even think the word ‘love,�
� Emma stamped her foot on the smooth pavement and whispered to herself, “Emma Grant-Echo don’t you dare forget that Tate is off limits. Do not forget how it was in the end. That sweet man turned into an absolute idiot, remember?”
She remembered alright. Every time she pulled a case he freaked out and his constant worrying had made them both crazy until they split apart like a tree struck by lightning; two pieces belonging together but separated by hot jagged edges that no longer fit.
Emma caught sight of Tate’s SUV and watched as he steered over to the curb. All six feet plus of him unfolded from the vehicle. Damn he looks good. A little tremor skittered down her back. Unable to move, Emma stared as Tate slid his cap on and strode toward her.
One step. His hair was a little long, the dark strands touching the collar of his brown uniform.
Two steps. His grey eyes were intense and questioning as they locked with hers.
Three steps. Emma had always loved those eyes—and those long ‘belonged on a woman’ lashes framing them.
Four steps. Get a grip Emma, and lighten up, okay?
Five steps. Do something before you melt into a puddle on the sidewalk, her mind screamed.
Emma turned her back to him and posed with one hand on her hip. She shifted her weight so that her back side moved provocatively in the tight jeans. She watched Tate’s face over her shoulder.
Six steps. Emma smiled, “Tell me, Tate, is it still a pretty little tail or what?”
Seven steps. Was that a growl?
Emma turned to face him, let go of the bag at her side and lifted her arms. Her feet left the ground as Tate pulled her into his embrace. Emma wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, closed her eyes and held on. Her fingers found their way to the hair at his nape on their own, weaving themselves into the soft dark strands. She pushed closer and breathed in the scent of him as she silently warned herself. It won’t work Emma.
Watching Emma turn and shake her backside, had really gotten to Tate. Get over it Echo. You can’t have it. Forcing his legs to move, Tate took another step and then another until her reached her. He wrapped her in a tight, and long overdue hug. Tate forced himself to stop thinking, allowing himself to let go and just feel for the first time in a very long time. Emma in his arms. Her body pressed flush against his. Tate closed his eyes and savored the sweet citrusy smell of her hair, the feel of her breasts pushed tight against his chest. Silently he cursed. Tate what have you gotten yourself into? You know you’ll never keep her.
Letting her body slide against his, Tate set Emma down and playfully swatted her backside. “You know damn well that your ass is just as gorgeous as it ever was, just like you knew I wouldn’t be able to look away when you turned around and shook it for me.”
Emma laughed and turned toward the SUV with her bag in tow. Reaching out, Tate took her arm and pulling her around to face him. “Em, it’s good to see you, but don’t think for even a minute that I’m not going to ask you some very personal questions about why you’re here.”
Opening the rear door of the SUV, Tate tossed Emma’s bag inside and watched her closely as she silently slid into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed.
Tate hopped in and started the vehicle then turned to face her. “So, where to?”
“Your house, of course. Surely you don’t expect your ex-wife to stay in a hotel. What would your mother say if she found out that you were that unaccommodating?”
Tate felt the rumble of a growl in his chest again, or maybe it was a groan. Tate pressed the gas pedal and the SUV eased out, moving smoothly into the light traffic around the terminal.
Tate shook his head and frowned, “Emma, I don’t know what’s going on or why exactly you’re here, but you can bet the farm that I intend to find out.”
She ignored the comment.
He slid her a sideways glance, “You know that you’re welcome to stay at my house, even better, stay in my bed, but I need to understand what the rules are and what exactly you are up to.”
CHAPTER 20
“Look, Dad, it’s not that hard to use. You just put the coordinates from the geocaching website into the GPS and then you follow it to the site and voila, the treasure’s yours!” Tapping one manicured finger on the small screen, Jewel Mabry continued, “This thing will get you within a couple of feet of the cache and then you use the clues that are on the website to find it.”
Jewel handed the GPS over to her sixty-year-old dad, who turned it over in his large, work-roughened hand while looking at the small screen. Today was his birthday, the handheld GPS a gift from Jules.
“You’re going to like this better than your metal detector, because you’ll always find the treasure—no more quarters or bottle caps,” she promised.
Smiling at his daughter’s excitement and knowing that she’d given him this blasted thing hoping he would get out and walk more, Walter patted Jewel’s hand. Since his heart attack last spring, she’d come up with any number of ways to keep him busy. First it was that damned treadmill, then the metal detector, now this.
“Okay, Jules, I’ll give it a try. Help me find some of those treasure numbers on the computer and get ‘em loaded in before you leave. I might just take me a drive this afternoon and see what I find.”
After helping her father load several nearby cache coordinates into his new GPS, Jewel kissed him goodbye on the cheek.“Don’t be out late Dad, remember we’re all having dinner for your birthday over at The Rib Shack, seven sharp.”
“Don’t you worry none about that baby girl.” Walter smiled, “I won’t be one minute late. I can smell the wood smoke and that sweet sauce now.”
Laughing at her father’s excitement over the dinner, Jewel stepped off the porch and walked to her car. She turned, blowing him a kiss, “Love you, Daddy!”
Reaching down, Walt placed one hand on the head of a German shepherd standing on the porch next to him then waved, “Love you too sweetie.” He continued to wave as he watched his only child backed her car from the drive. When he could no longer see her car on the dirt road leading to his farm, Walt turned and went inside, the dog following on his heels.
Walt sat in a faded tan recliner, and examined his new birthday gift for a minute before exchanging it for the television remote. Reaching over and rubbing the dog’s head he said, “Maybe tomorrow, King. Yeah, we’ll go looking for treasure tomorrow. Judge Judy is coming on in a few minutes and I can’t miss that old broad making a fool out of somebody today.”
Placing one large paw on his master’s knee, the dog stared at him with rich brown eyes.
“Don’t you worry none, King, I’ll be sure to bring you home some nice juicy rib bones.” Walt continued to rub the dog’s head, laughing at the dog’s excited tail wag. “That is, if I don’t gnaw the bones myself. Been way to long since I had some barbeque ribs. Jewel makes sure everything in this house is green or made of cardboard. She says ‘fiber is good for you, Dad.’ Hah! You’re lucky she hasn’t took away your favorite treats, King, or caught us down at the diner on meatloaf day.”
Flipping through the channels to find his show, Walt shook his head. What would Jules come up with next? “Here we go, King. All rise!” Letting out a sharp bark the dog lay down at his master’s feet resting his large head on his paws.
CHAPTER 21
Sliding out of the SUV, Emma looked appreciatively at Tate’s home for a minute. Sitting off the road a few hundred feet, the house was small but neat on the outside with a large front yard that had been recently mowed. Sighing, Emma thought that the only thing missing here was a couple kids playing in the yard and a pretty woman in the doorway to welcome him home. Her mind traveled further down that path and she wondered how long it would be before Tate added the missing pieces to his small town life.
This could have been your fairytale, her heart screamed. He begged you to come with him.
As Tate rounded the front of the SUV, Emma pasted a smile on her face and moved aside so he could pull the rear door open.
Grabbing Emma by the hand, Tate pulled her up the driveway and the steps leading to the front door. He pushed the door open and stepped back so that she could enter before him.
“You always leave your door unlocked?” Emma asked.
Moving past her in the small entryway, Tate turned down the hallway with her bag in tow. “Yeah well you never know when an ex-wife or two might show up needing a place to stay.”
Emma followed Tate into a small bedroom at the end of the hallway and watched him sit her bag down inside the door then point to a nearby bathroom.
“I’ve got a couple steaks in the fridge, so make yourself at home while I get the grill started. And Em, just so you don’t think I’ve forgotten, first we eat, then we talk.”
Emma stood and listened as the sound of his boots on the smooth wooden floor faded. She hoisted her bag onto the bed and unzipped it, staring at her clothes for a moment. She sat on the edge of the bed. Emma, what are you doing here? She wondered.
In her heart, she admitted the answer to her question; his voice on the line after so long just wasn’t enough. She had to see him, smell him, touch him and have him touch her back. His needing her help gave her an excuse and the impulse overwhelmed common sense. In that weak moment she’d hopped a plane to South Dakota; so now what? This would be self-torture at its best and at worst, emotional suicide. She buried her face in her hands. Emma you are a fool. Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to walk away from him this time?
Emma pushed herself up from the bed and crossed the hall to the bathroom. Bending at the white pedestal sink, she splashed her face with cool water trying to calm her nervous energy. You are here to help find a killer and that is all, Emma. That is all. Now, go help Tate with dinner and pretend everything is fine.
Emma stopped in the hallway when she reached the door to Tate’s bedroom. She couldn’t resist a peek. The room was large with double windows facing the back yard. The late day sun drifted across the room through open blinds. A king-sized bed dominated the room. In one corner, an overstuffed arm chair sat near a window and was flanked by a small table, its smooth wooden surface dust free and topped with an open book that lay face down saving Tate’s place in the text. Crossing to the table Emma picked up a gold picture frame sitting next to the book, a photo of them taken shortly after their wedding. With one finger she traced a line across the faces of the laughing couple in the photo. Tate stood behind her, his arms locked around her waist while she twisted back looking up at him. We were happy then.
Caching Out Page 9