by Connie Mann
Sanchez leaned against the wall. “Want me to check for trail cameras in the area? They wouldn’t have met there if one was nearby, but maybe they passed one on the way in or out. Might give us a license plate or the make and model of a truck or two.”
“Good plan. Thanks, Sanchez.” He turned to the others. “Byte also compared Billy’s boot print to the one near Black’s body, and they’re a match.”
Fish spoke from where she’d plopped on the couch. “Do we know yet where he got the boots?”
“I spoke with Billy’s mother just before you arrived,” Hunter said. “She claims she got them from her sister, who cleans house for none other than our favorite county commissioner, Dwight Benson.”
Pete sat in the armchair across from Fish. “I’ll head downtown and have a chat with him as soon as we’re done here.”
“Thanks, Pete,” Hunter said. “Keep me posted.”
“Of course.” He shot a grin around the room. “Let’s hope he confesses nice and easy-like and we can call the Black case cleared.”
Everyone laughed, because things only wrapped up that neatly on television. Real-life investigations were usually a lot more tedious, less cut-and-dried, and not nearly as exciting.
“I have one more interesting piece of information.” Hunter tapped more keys on his laptop. “Byte put a notification on Black’s email to see who was still sending him messages. This just came in, mentions an informal meet-up for possible militia joiners. Tonight.” He turned the laptop around so they could read the short message.
“Can Byte trace the IP address?” Sanchez asked.
“Already working on it,” Hunter said.
“We can put our cover to the test,” Josh said, excitement building. “We’ll show up, introduce ourselves, see what we can find out.” If a group planned an armed protest, law enforcement would show up in force, armed and ready. But an informal gathering? Perfectly legal—and often a great source of information.
“I’ll be nearby, keeping an eye on you both,” Hunter said.
Josh was shaking his head before Hunter finished speaking. “If they suspect someone is watching, our cover is toast. You’ll have to stay a good distance away.”
Hunter crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “You figure this is my first day on the job, Hollywood?”
Josh debated how to respond. The fact that Hunter had gotten the promotion Josh thought was his still grated like a burr under his saddle. But that was his issue and not part of this. “My priority is to keep Delilah safe.”
“Then you work on that and let me work my end.” He waited a beat, then picked up an FWC mug and held it aloft. “Before we head out, it’s time for the monkey suit lottery.”
The men groaned.
“At least you guys get to take turns,” Fish complained. “It’s always my turn.”
“That’s only because I look terrible in a dress,” Josh quipped, batting his eyelashes.
Delilah laughed with the rest of them but still looked confused.
“Every year, FWC sends two officers to the Mayor’s Ball to do meet-and-greet duty while the rest of the squad provides security,” Charlee said. “Fish gets to wear a gorgeous dress, but she has to go with one of these lunkheads.”
Hunter held the mug out to Delilah. “Draw a name, and let’s see who this year’s monkey suit winner is.”
She pulled out one of the folded pieces of paper and handed it to Hunter.
“And the winner is…”
Sanchez tapped his palms on the table in a drum roll.
“Josh.” The minute Hunter read the name, Pete and Sanchez high-fived, and Josh groaned.
“Right back at you,” Fish said, laughing.
Josh’s gaze flicked to Delilah and saw her eyeing Fish speculatively. Was that a flash of jealousy he spotted?
“In case you didn’t read the memo I forwarded last week,” Hunter continued, and there were more groans, “Dwight Benson is scheduled to be the MC for this year’s ball, which will give us a chance to keep a close eye on him. That’s all for now.”
A timer rang in the kitchen.
“If you ask nicely, I’ll let you have a treat before you go,” Charlee said.
The squad practically stampeded for the kitchen.
“Do I smell cupcakes?” Josh asked, sniffing the air as he entered.
Charlee grinned. “Or cookies. You’d think you’d know the difference by now.”
He poured coffee, saluted her with his cup. “I don’t care what it is, Sis. If you’re baking, I want some. Pretty please.”
A chorus of “hear, hear” came from around the room.
While Charlee pulled a tray of cookies from the oven, Hunter set a plastic bag on the table in front of Delilah. If Josh hadn’t been watching, he would’ve missed the way her eyes widened and she sucked in a quick breath before all emotion disappeared from her face.
“We found this in the woods just beyond your camper. Do you know who it belongs to?” Hunter asked.
All the color leached out of her face. “It’s a common enough logo, especially around here.” The silence lengthened, and then she said, “My brother was wearing one like that the last time I saw him. But it doesn’t prove he burned down my camper,” she added.
“You’re right. It doesn’t. But we do have some questions for him. Had he come to visit you?”
Her chin came up. “No. I’ve been trying to track him down.”
She looked outwardly calm, but Josh had seen the flash of worry, so he said, “I’ll see if I can find him. See what he has to say for himself.”
Hunter raised a brow. “Since you’re on ‘vacation’”—he made air quotes—“Hollywood, we’ll go together.”
“I’m coming with you,” Delilah said.
Both Josh and Hunter said no at the same time.
“He’s my brother.”
“And he may very well have tried to kill you.” When she opened her mouth to argue, Josh continued, “Right now, your biggest protection is the fact that he thinks you’re dead.”
Tension crackled in the air as they stared at each other, but Josh wouldn’t back down. Not on this. Delilah scanned the room, and he knew everyone wore the same implacable expression. Finally, her eyes came back to him.
“All right. I’m going to the Saturday market downtown, then. Mama and Mrs. Fenton sometimes set up there on the off weeks from the regular farmers market. I’ll go in disguise and see if I can find out where Mary is or what’s going on.”
“I have a change of clothes in the car,” Fish said. “We’ll stroll around as two friends out shopping on a Saturday morning.”
“I love the Saturday market,” Charlee said as she transferred cookies to the cooling rack. “I’ll go with you.”
“Don’t you have a kayak tour in a little while?” Hunter asked.
Charlee huffed out a breath as she turned off the oven. “Yes, dang it. I forgot about that.”
“Sorry, cher,” Hunter said. He sent a text to update the captain, closed his laptop, and kissed Charlee soundly on the mouth. “Let’s do this. Be safe out there, everybody.”
* * *
Fish pulled up to the grassy parking area in Mrs. Tanner’s nondescript sedan. It wouldn’t do to show up in either an FWC truck or Delilah’s vehicle. Both women wore long cotton skirts and long-sleeved blouses. They had traded ball caps for big floppy hats and wore sunglasses to hide their eyes. Delilah had no doubt Mama would recognize her, but she worried how she would react. Maybe she should wait until tomorrow, when Kimberly would keep them safe from prying eyes.
“Easy, girl,” Fish whispered. “No one will recognize you.”
Delilah didn’t argue, just pulled down the brim of her floppy hat and marched off toward the produce section. “There’s a vendor just inside who sells recyclable bags. We
should grab a few to put produce in.”
Fish hurried to keep up, eyeing the change in Delilah’s demeanor. “You sure you don’t want to join FWC? You’re a natural at this undercover stuff.”
“I’ve just learned to blend in over the years.” It was a survival skill she’d learned early.
“Then lead on. This is your turf, not mine.”
They purchased bags, then wandered up and down the rows, chatting with vendors as they scanned the area, looking for her mother’s booth.
Delilah bent down to inspect a basket of beefsteak tomatoes. “I don’t see Mama anywhere. But if Mrs. Fenton is here, she may know if Mama came today.”
Fish held up a fat tomato and nodded. “This looks about perfect, doesn’t it?”
Several minutes later, Delilah spotted Mrs. Fenton returning to her booth. She caught Fish’s eye and nodded to the empty space beside it.
“Hey, good morning,” Fish said. “I was kinda hoping to get some bread-and-butter pickles from the lady next to you. Atwood, I think her name is. She not here today?”
Mrs. Fenton smiled sadly. “Sorry, you just missed her. She already sold out.”
“Oh, she was here today? How long ago did she leave?”
A look of caution slid over the woman’s face. “I really couldn’t say. Why?”
Fish laughed as Delilah joined her. “Sorry. That came out sounding pretty stalker-ish. I just love those pickles, and I’ve been raving about them to my friend.” She nodded to Delilah. “I was hoping we could either buy several jars or place an order for next week.”
Mrs. Fenton’s caution melted into a sunny smile. “If you hurry, you might still be able to catch them. They just headed out a few minutes ago.” She indicated the vendor parking area off to one side.
“Can you tell me what kind of vehicle they’re in?” Fish asked, shading her eyes as she scanned the area.
The older woman shrugged. “Sorry. I was too busy setting up my booth to pay much attention.”
Delilah’s heart pounded. Did “them” mean Mama and Papa or Aaron? Or did it include Mary, too? She thanked Mrs. Fenton and started running, but Fish put a hand on her arm.
“Let’s not draw undue attention to ourselves.”
Delilah forced herself to slow down, but it was hard. Every instinct urged her to run full tilt lest she miss them. Once they reached the parking area, they searched for any vehicle that was occupied or loading up. There were quite a few. Some were leaving, while others were offloading more product.
Two rows over, a pickup started. Delilah’s eyes widened when she saw her father behind the wheel and two more people in the cab. One of them looked like her mother, which meant the other could very well be Mary. “That’s them!”
Delilah rushed between two trucks and smacked her shoulder on a side mirror as she ran, but she didn’t slow down. They were almost to the exit! She tried to flag them down, but before her arms were halfway up, Fish ran up behind her and yanked them down. “Don’t blow our cover,” she hissed in Delilah’s ear. Delilah struggled to free herself, but Fish was stronger than she looked. “We need to do this another way, Delilah, and you know it.”
She did know it, and her heart sank, defeated. They had been so close. She was almost positive Mary had been sitting between her parents.
“Let’s go back and talk to Mrs. Fenton. Maybe your sister left a note.”
“She’s never done that before, but even if she did, unless Mrs. Fenton knows it’s me, she’ll never hand it over.”
“Can you trust her?”
“I have no reason not to. I’ve been leaving cards and notes for Mary with her for years.”
“Then maybe today is your lucky day.”
Delilah didn’t feel particularly lucky, but she wasn’t giving up. When they reached Mrs. Fenton’s booth, they waited politely until the other customers left.
“Did you catch them?” Mrs. Fenton asked.
“Unfortunately, no, they were just pulling away as we got there.” Delilah leaned closer, “Mrs. Fenton, did Mary leave a note for me?”
Mrs. Fenton studied her face for a long moment and then her eyes widened. “I’ve heard blonds have more fun.”
Delilah smiled. “I’ve heard that, too. I’ll let you know if it’s true.” She paused. “Please, Mrs. Fenton. It’s important.”
The woman looked both ways to be sure no one was watching, then reached under the table and pulled out a small envelope. She passed it to Delilah with a basket of cucumbers and whispered, “She was hoping you’d come.”
Her heart pounded with anticipation as she paid, then stashed everything in her bag. “Thank you, Mrs. Fenton.”
She patted Delilah’s hand. “She’s a lovely girl. I hope you two are able to connect.”
Delilah and Fish didn’t speak as they hurried back to Mrs. Tanner’s sedan. Once inside, she pulled out the envelope and relief flooded her at Mary’s familiar, looping handwriting. “It doesn’t say much. ‘Tomorrow after church, our favorite spot. Please come.’”
Fish sent her a quick grin. “It may not be a lot of words, but it tells us everything we need to know.”
The hard knot of worry inside Delilah loosened slightly as the words sank in. Mary believed Delilah was looking for her and had just told her where she could be found. This was exactly what she’d been hoping and longing for. If all went according to plan, she’d have Mary safely with her tomorrow.
Chapter 22
Josh and Hunter checked the Corner Café first, but Aaron wasn’t there. According to Liz, he hadn’t been there at all during the past several days. There was no sign of County Commissioner Dwight Benson either, and Liz couldn’t say for sure when she’d last seen the man.
“Interesting,” Josh said when they were back in Hunter’s truck. “Benson’s a regular fixture at the café, so this is out of character.”
“I agree. Let’s go see if Mama T has anything useful to tell us.” The tiny older woman had been operating a small convenience store out in the forest for decades and always had her ear to the ground. If you wanted to know what was happening, you asked Mama T.
Hunter drove into the forest but hadn’t gone far when Pete called. Hunter put him on speaker. “Did you bring Benson in for questioning?”
“Negative. He wasn’t at his office, but Mom knows his secretary, so I called Janet at home. She was frantic that he’d been out of pocket for the last two days, which she says is completely unlike him. I’m heading to his house now to do a well check. If he doesn’t turn up, I’ll be at his office first thing Monday morning to look around.”
“Keep me posted.” Hunter thanked him and disconnected.
The two men exchanged looks. “Looks like Mr. Benson has something to hide,” Josh said.
“Sounds like.” Hunter dialed his cell phone. “Hey, Byte, I need a favor. Do a search to see if County Commissioner Dwight Benson has any other property in the area that he might use as a hidey-hole.”
“10-4, boss. I’ll get back to you.”
Josh flipped through the facts of the case as they drove out to Mama T’s place. “We still have no motive for Benson to kill Black. Benson has an election coming up, one he’s been pretty determined to win, so killing somebody doesn’t seem like a smart political move.”
“Unless it wasn’t planned, and Black showed up at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Benson didn’t feel he had a choice.”
“Which still doesn’t tell us why.”
“And we still don’t have any solid proof he did it.”
Josh grinned as they parked. “Details, details.”
When they stepped onto the rickety porch at Mama T’s, the tiny older woman greeted them like long-lost family. She gave hugs, patted cheeks, and generally treated both men as though they were twelve. Josh half expected her to tweak his cheek before it was over. Once
they’d exchanged the requisite pleasantries, she propped her hands on her hips, expression stern. “Much as I enjoy seeing you, y’all have the look of men on a mission today. How can I help?”
“We’re trying to find Aaron Atwood. He been around here lately?” Hunter asked.
Mama T’s eyes clouded, and she shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Don’t know what’s gotten into that boy lately. He and his father used to come by, regular like, and then Aaron started coming by himself, strutting around like he was all that and too good for the rest of us.”
“About how long ago did you notice the change?” Josh asked.
She thought about it for a minute. “Least a year ago now, maybe going on two.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Josh asked.
She squinted. “Must’ve been a few days ago now. He got another propane tank for his camper, a few supplies, but he wasn’t in no mood to talk.”
“Any guesses where we might find him today?” Hunter asked.
“John Henry came by earlier for live bait, so the two of them might be fishing together.”
Hunter and Josh exchanged a look. “Mama T, have you heard any rumors or rumblings about somebody trying to start a militia in this area? Or anything about guns?” Josh kept his eyes on her face as he asked the question.
Instead of answering, Mama T reached under the counter and pulled out a flyer. It was the same invite to a meet and greet that had shown up in Black’s email. “Some man I ain’t never seen before came by and asked me to post this for him. I said no, and he wasn’t none too happy about it.”
“Can you describe him for us?” Hunter asked.
“All’s I can tell you is that he was tall and had red hair. And a red beard, too.”
“Thanks for your time, Mama T,” Josh said. “You let us know if he comes around again or if anyone bothers you, you hear?”
She patted his cheek. “You’re a good man, even if you is a copper.”
Josh and Hunter laughed, then each one hugged her and kissed her cheek before they climbed into the truck and headed for the nearest boat ramp.