by Jenna Night
* * *
Monday morning, Leon stood beside Cassie in the parking lot behind Rock Solid Bail Bonds. They’d been inside earlier because Cassie had wanted to inspect the damage. It had been pretty extensive. Leon was glad to be out of the office, away from the lingering, petroleum-like scent of smoke, and back in the fresh air. The door, with the damage from the shooting patched over, was propped open in an attempt to clear things out.
Sergeant Bergman, who’d just arrived, stood facing the two of them. Cassie had called him last night for an update on whatever information he had, and his response had been a text telling her to meet with him this morning.
“We’ve got some basic information about the incendiary devices thrown in here,” Bergman said after greeting Leon and Cassie. “They were obviously effective, and simple to make. The various parts are easy to find. The Feds will check to see if any element of the bombing matches the signature of any known arsonist in the area, or if there’s any profiling information they can give us. But that will take time.”
“Of course,” Cassie said.
Leon admired how strong she’d remained through this whole horrible string of events. But he was also worried that the emotional trauma and physical punishment were getting to her. She seemed distant and more aloof than usual both last night and this morning.
“We’re taking a close look at everyone you talked to Saturday,” Bergman continued. “We’ll check to see if any of them has a connection to a known arsonist or anyone with a suspected bomb-making history.”
“Stefan Kasparov seems a good possibility for that,” Leon said. “We didn’t talk to him. But we did talk to Travis Jefferson about him.”
“Kasparov and his people have a track record of violence,” Bergman said. “I haven’t heard of them being connected to anything like this fire-bombing, but there’s a first time for everything.”
“What’s the possibility that Jake was investigating something you didn’t know about when he was murdered?” Cassie asked. “Maybe something that was kept secret and confidential for some reason.”
“I have wondered that myself,” Bergman said.
“And?”
He slightly quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t have an answer for you right now. My understanding is that the agencies involved in the investigation of his murder, including the Stone River Police Department, were given all pertinent information related to the task force he was working with. It would be pretty bad for law enforcement employee morale if the investigation into a cop’s murder was impeded for the sake of a criminal investigation. Especially if information needed to solve the murder was still being kept hidden five years down the road.” He sighed. “I don’t think it’s likely anything has been held back. But I do want to be thorough, so I’m having someone audit the information we have to see if there appears to be anything missing.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said. “What about the possible address I texted you for Seth Tatum? Is that correct?”
She’d told Leon that she didn’t want to put Bergman on the spot by asking for information he may not be allowed to share, but asking him to confirm information after she’d uncovered it on her own seemed reasonable. Even if Seth no longer lived in Saddleback, it could be worth the trip over there to talk to people who knew him.
“Seth moved over to Montana shortly after he graduated from high school. The address you have for him is the most recent address we have. But there still hasn’t been any sighting of him.”
“Which makes this a perfect time for us to do what we do best,” Leon said, hoping to cheer up Cassie. “We want to go talk to his neighbors, his coworkers and anybody else who won’t talk to the cops but who will talk to us.”
“Yeah, I figured that’s what you’d say.” Bergman turned to Cassie. “I understand how important this investigation is to you. But you’ve already done an excellent job at heating up your husband’s cold case. Don’t you need to stay here and fix up your office? Keep your business running by being around to meet with new clients? Maybe even rest up a little after all you’ve been through?”
“My dad will be meeting the insurance adjuster here later this morning,” Cassie told him. “The repairs are his project for now. Harry is working with our part-time bounty hunter, Carlos Flanagan, to get a handle on the daily business issues.”
“I hope that means your other two bounty hunters are going with you to look for Seth.”
Cassie gestured toward the truck that had just turned into the parking lot with Daisy and Martin inside. “I told them to be here by nine and to plan for a day trip to Montana.”
Bergman’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “Watch your backs,” he said to Cassie and Leon before putting the phone to his ear and then turning and walking to his unmarked police car.
Martin and Daisy got out of their truck and walked up carrying a shopping bag. “We brought snacks and bottled water,” Daisy called out. “This one’s for you.” She handed over the bag. They’d decided to take two separate vehicles for the trip to Montana.
“You know, none of you needs to do this.” Cassie looked at the three bounty hunters surrounding her. “It’s not your job. It’s not a requirement to stay employed with me. And the situation is getting very dangerous. Besides, Harry and Carlos might need some help. Any one of you would be doing me a favor if you stayed behind and helped them.”
When she shifted her gaze to make eye contact with Leon, he felt a flare of emotion somewhere between insult and anger. How could she possibly think he’d want to stay behind and let her go to Montana without him?
Their gazes stayed locked for several long seconds, until Cassie finally dropped hers and looked away. And Leon had the disquieting feeling that she was holding something back from him.
Daisy, who’d been standing beside Cassie, bumped her lightly with her shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re all going. Everybody loves a road trip. So quit stalling, lock the back door to your office, and let’s roll.”
Cassie’s eyes got very shiny. Like she was about to start crying. And Leon felt a knot form in the center of his chest.
He was wary of this outing. They would be driving through long stretches of forested wilderness on the trip over the mountain pass from Idaho into Montana. It was perfect ambush country.
Meanwhile, Cassie was losing her edge. He could see it. On a personal level he felt bad for her and what she was going through. Beyond that, he was worried that fatigue and emotional exhaustion might make her see or hear something—like a footfall or a twig snapping—just a second too late. And that could be the end for her.
NINE
Saddleback, Montana, was located ten miles east of the college town of Jameson. It was a community of maybe five thousand people spread across forested foothills. Cassie was excited at the prospect of finding Seth and finally getting a lead on who murdered her husband. But at the same time, she tried not to let herself get her hopes up too much.
Leon turned down a shady street lined with big, leafy trees about six blocks from what passed for the downtown section of Saddleback. The houses here were small, with detached garages, and looked like they’d been built at least fifty years ago. Several had chain-link fences surrounding their front yards.
Roughly midway down the block they found the house with the number they were looking for. The first thing Cassie noticed was the overgrown lawn. As Leon pulled up to the curb, she saw the overstuffed mailbox beside the front door.
“It could be that Seth is hiding inside and just trying to make it look like he hasn’t been home in a while,” Leon said, correctly anticipating Cassie’s thoughts. She was already fighting the deflating sensation that this trip would end up all for nothing.
“We’ll start with the assumption he could be in there,” Cassie said, “and work from there.”
Martin and Daisy had already pulled up behind them alongside the
curb. Normally, for the sake of efficiency, they would have worked as two separate teams on two separate tasks. One team at the house and another at Seth’s last known place of employment. But right now the priority was safety—for everyone, not just Cassie—and that meant they would stick together.
They got out of their trucks and met up on the sidewalk. “Leon and I will knock on the front door,” Cassie said, anxious to move quickly in case Seth actually was inside. She didn’t want to give him time to see her or to figure out who she was or why this small group of people might be there. She also didn’t want to linger where they might be spotted by a neighbor who might call Seth—wherever he was—to tell him what was going on right now in front of his house.
“Martin, you stay out here on the sidewalk so you’re ready to go after Seth if he sprints from the garage or a neighbor’s house or a parked car or somewhere else,” she continued. “Daisy, I want you by the gate to the backyard. If you hear anything, it could be him trying to hop his back fence and get away. Let us know and we’ll chase after him.”
They all had radios and did a quick check to make sure they were working properly. Cassie had a brief flashback to her recent abduction and forced herself to mentally set it aside. She had plenty of experience with bypassing emotions and dealing with them later. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but in her line of work—and with her life experience—she had found it necessary.
“Seth is officially in violation of his bond, right?” Daisy said. “So we can legally chase him and arrest him if he tries to run?”
“Absolutely,” Cassie answered. “His parents secured the bond for his driving under the influence charge through an agency in Boise, where they live. They moved down there from Stone River about three years ago. I contacted the bondsman there after I was able to confirm Seth’s identity. Since he was a no-show for his court date, his bond is vacated. The bondsman will pay us a recovery fee if we catch him, so at the least, we’ll earn the cost for the trip here plus the day’s wages for everybody.” No one had asked, but Cassie wanted to make sure they knew they’d be paid. She was not going to let them do this for free as a favor to her.
“All right,” she said, “let’s get to work.”
Martin stayed where he was while Daisy headed for the gate at the side of the residence.
Cassie and Leon headed up the cement walkway from the sidewalk to the front steps, keeping an eye on the windows and the glass pane in the door for a moving shadow, fluttering curtains or any other sign that someone was inside.
Cassie knocked politely. If she didn’t sound threatening, and Seth was in there, he might be more likely to answer the door. If he didn’t answer, she’d get a little more insistent. Pound a little louder. It could be that he was someone more likely to respond if he was stressed or afraid.
Leon stayed a few feet behind her, near the bottom of the steps, where he had a wider view of the door and windows.
There was no answer, so she tried knocking again. Eventually, Cassie ended up pounding on the door and calling out Seth’s name. But there was no response. She didn’t hear any sounds from inside the house, and the only footprints in the light layer of dust on the doorstep were her own.
She turned to Leon and shook her head, struggling to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I don’t think he’s here.”
Of course he wasn’t. What were the odds that he would be? But she’d let herself hope because she’d needed to hope. Told herself that he’d hidden from the local cops when they’d come by to check things out at Sergeant Bergman’s request, but that he might show himself to a civilian.
“Does his mail look like it’s been sitting there for a while?” Leon asked, gesturing at the overstuffed box.
Cassie glanced at the edges of envelopes and a couple of thin catalogs that were in plain view. “None of it appears especially weathered,” she said. “But a couple of pieces look a little dusty, like maybe they’ve been sitting in the mailbox for a few days. Looks like he hasn’t collected his mail for about a week.”
She’d turned and headed down the steps when a man came barreling toward them from the house next door. He called out, “Hey you! What are you people doing?”
“Hi. We’re looking for Seth,” Cassie said smoothly. “Do you know where he is?”
“Well, he isn’t inside his mailbox.” The man, skinny and maybe in his mid-fifties, shoved his hands onto his hips and jutted out his chin. “I saw you looking at it. This is private property, you know.”
Cassie glanced at the house next door to Seth’s, noting the side window with its open shades and coffee mug on the windowsill. If this guy was a nosy neighbor, he could turn out to be helpful. But she’d need him to calm down first.
“Do you know Seth?” she asked.
“I’m his neighbor so, yeah, obviously.” The guy wagged his head as though he’d made a brilliant point.
“When is the last time you saw him?”
“What’s it to ya?”
Cassie took a calming breath, reminding herself that this man could simply be a good citizen looking out for his neighbor. “My name is Cassie,” she said. “And I just want to ask him a few questions.”
The neighbor cocked an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just use a phone like everybody else?”
“I’ve tried, but I don’t get an answer. Maybe it’s broken or he lost it.” Bergman had not authorized her to share the fact that, according to police, the known phone for Seth had vanished off the grid. No signal. No response to a ping. No GPS location. Nothing.
“Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to you,” the neighbor countered.
Cassie sighed. She was going to have to take a chance. “Seth may have come across some trouble,” she said. “He’s a good guy. I just want to help him out.”
If it turned out to be common knowledge that Seth wasn’t a good guy, this conversation would likely come to an abrupt end.
The neighbor—who hadn’t offered his name, and Cassie wasn’t inclined to press him for it—relaxed his stance a little. Likewise, his fixed glare softened and he looked away for a moment before turning back to Cassie. “I don’t know if you really believe what you just said.” He eyed her shrewdly. “But, like I told the cops when they came around, Seth’s a nice guy and a considerate neighbor. Keeps to himself, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Doesn’t mean he’s a serial killer or something.”
Cassie kept silent. Mentioning that she wanted to talk to him regarding the unsolved murder of her husband wouldn’t likely be helpful. “Do you know where he is right now?” she asked softly and carefully, not wanting to blow an opportunity to find him if one hung in the balance.
“I don’t.”
“When and where is the last time you saw him?” Cassie held her breath for a few seconds, waiting to see if the man would answer her question or tell her to go away. It was situations like these, where she had to quickly get a read on someone and possibly get them to calm down, that her experience really helped. Chasing after fugitives and wrestling them to the ground if necessary was something anyone who was fit and trained could do. But reading people and situations? That was often trickier.
The neighbor bit down on his lip and considered her question. “The last time I saw Seth was maybe ten days ago? Something like that. He was heading to Stone River in Idaho. It was for a wedding or maybe a big birthday party. He seemed kind of excited and nervous at the same time. I was happy for him. The guy just works and stays inside that house alone most of the time.”
Maybe, Cassie thought. Or maybe Seth just wants things to appear that way.
“It was kind of odd,” the neighbor added. “He left, came back maybe three days later, and then after that he vanished. Left his car behind in the garage. You can see it through the window.”
“Do you have any idea where he might have gone the second time?” Cassie pressed, f
iguring the nosy neighbor might have gotten at least a scrap of information out of Seth.
The neighbor shook his head. “It was at night when he came back from that initial trip. After dark. I was already in my pajamas. I didn’t go outside to talk to him.”
“Thank you for your help.” Cassie gestured at Leon to come closer. “We’d like to leave one of our business cards with you in case you think of something later or maybe you see or hear from Seth.”
Leon reached into his back pocket for his wallet to retrieve a business card. Cassie had left all of hers in her purse, which was locked in the truck at the moment.
Leon held out the card and the neighbor reached for it.
“There’s a cash award for additional information,” Cassie added.
The man looked at the card and went back to squinting at her. “You’re from a bail bond company? What exactly is going on?”
She forced a lighthearted smile on her face. “I’d really prefer to talk to him about that. And remember, we pay for information.”
She and Leon offered a few polite parting words then turned and walked over to meet Daisy and Martin by the trucks.
“What did you learn?” Daisy asked.
“Not much,” Cassie responded.
“Did you check the trash bins while we talked to him?” Leon asked Martin.
The younger bounty hunter glanced at the two dark green bins in the driveway near the garage door and nodded. “Yep. They’re completely empty. Nothing to indicate that anyone is actually inhabiting the house and generating garbage. There’s a little bit of dust and pine straw on the lids and surrounding ground. Doesn’t look like they’ve been moved in a while. I also took a quick peek in the window on the side of the garage. There’s a car parked in there that’s the same make, model and color as the one that we know is registered to Seth.”