Jill rose and went back to pacing and planning what she needed to do to escape the lovely town. Brushing at the tears which insisted on forming and sliding from her eyes, she plotted her next steps.
She loved her life here. The store. Anne. Sally. The artists she’d met and other business owners.
The fall was beautiful, like she remembered. Her fists pounded on the back wall of the cell. Leaving before winter ended would prove Jerrod was right about her. Jerrod. She’d miss him, and the possibility of something developing between them.
How could anything grow when he thought her capable of shooting his brother? How could she ever trust him when he believed that about her? Was she responsible? While she didn’t pull the trigger, if she hadn’t come up here... If whoever killed Mitch wasn’t connected to the gambling consortium, maybe his death couldn’t be laid at her door.
Did anyone ever get killed in Woodstock, Vermont? In this idyllic village? She paced and chewed her lower lip.
STRAIGHT UP NOON, A door slammed. Jill jumped up from the cot.
Sheriff Hardwick walked into the section of the building with cells. “You’ve got visitors, Ms. Barlow.” He opened the door. “You can meet with them in one of our interrogation rooms.”
“Thank you.” She followed him down a hallway. He held the door for her to go through. Three men crowded the room—Jerrod, a stranger, and a man wearing a white western hat, which he removed.
“Detective Riley. You came.” She flew across the room and flung herself at him.
Mike Riley’s arms closed around her for half a second before he released her. “Yeah. I had some vacation time and have always wanted to see New England. Your friends in Fort Worth are concerned about you, Ms. Barlow. You look like you could use help.” He raised his hand toward her cheek. “That hurt much?”
Jill stepped away from the tall Texan, a blush rushing up her neck. She nodded. “I’m sorry about just now. It’s heartwarming to see someone from home.” Her gaze skittered across Jerrod to land on the stranger, a gray-haired man in a suit, carrying a briefcase.
“I’m Charles Callahan. Hear you need a lawyer.”
She walked forward and met his outstretched hand. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Callahan.” She glanced around uncertainly. “Have you all met each other?”
“As they arrived I made the introductions, Ms. Barlow,” the sheriff said. “I’m assuming you want to talk with your lawyer first?”
“Yes, please.” She glanced toward Jerrod and spoke to Riley. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s what I’d recommend, Ms. Barlow, and I don’t mind at all,” he said.
His Texas twang brought Jill a comforting reminder of home. She breathed a little easier.
“We can visit later.” He placed his hat on his head.
She nodded.
“Let’s give them space. Detective, Jerrod, this way.” Hardwick ushered the two men out, closing the door behind them.
Jill turned to the lawyer. “How do you know Michelle, Mr. Callahan?”
“Please call me Charles, and may I call you Jill? How do I know, Michelle? Well, uh, I’m a first cousin twice removed or some such thing. You southerners are always more particular about that. We say cousins.”
“That would be Michelle. She’s always talking about her relatives.”
“Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s going on. Looks like you’ve run into some trouble.”
Jill raised a hand to her cheek where a bruise throbbed.
“Anything you say will come under attorney-client privilege, so don’t hold back. That’s the only way I can help you.” He settled in a chair on the far side of table, and pulled out a legal pad enclosed in what appeared to be rich brown leather.
Another decisive moment. Jill had already told Jerrod and Karen about her father’s note and the flash drive. At this point, what was the harm in bringing in one more person?
She sat. In crisp, spare tones, Jill told Callahan the story starting with her father’s note, break-ins in Fort Worth and Woodstock, Mitch’s behavior yesterday, her escape through the woods, hearing the shot, and ultimately finding what stood for civilization in South Stanton. She concluded with the sheriff bringing her in, and his words about wanting to keep her safe. It appeared at first, Hardwick considered her a suspect in Mitch’s shooting, but not now. She whooshed out a long breath, relieved to have gotten through the retelling.
Callahan listened quietly, made notes, and only a few times interrupted with a question.
“I don’t see any reason you can’t walk out, if you wish. Unless you want to stay here.”
She couldn’t spend the rest of her days hiding in the jail. Did she feel safe on the outside? Not exactly, but her house and work had new security systems installed.
“I want to go home. I know I didn’t kill Mitch but being in here makes me feel dirty.”
“One more thing, Jill.” He glanced down at his notes. “I believe I missed you saying where you put the flash drive.”
He looked at her, his eyebrows raised, expecting she’d share the information. Jill should trust the man Michelle sent. And yet... Her breath stopped.
Paranoid. She was, with good reason, paranoid. Why did Callahan need to know where she put the flash drive?
She gulped in a quick breath, stood, and backed toward the door. Couldn’t let him know she was suspicious.
He rose and followed her around the table.
“I didn’t mention it, and you don’t need to know, Charles. Thank you for coming. I feel so much better. Oh, by the way, do you know how Michelle’s little dog is doing? The last time I talked with her, she was worried about him.”
“Well, uh. He’s fine. He was barking in the background when we talked.”
“Good.” Her voice betrayed a squeaky sound. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. She turned from him. Her fingers closed on the doorknob.
Over her head, a large hand flattened on the door holding it closed. “You should tell me where the device is, Jill. You want to be safe, don’t you?”
Callahan stood close to her. The heat from his body radiated outwards, threatened to burn her attempts at escape. Her palms grew moist, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to turn the knob. Her breathing hitched up. This couldn’t be what she suspected. Michelle sent this man. Didn’t she?
“Tell me where the device is.” He whispered low in her ear.
The hairs on the back of her neck came to attention like cadets drilling at Texas A & M.
Damn, she should be safe in jail.
“Thanks for coming, Charles.” By God, she’d bluff this out. Help lay on the other side of the door. She stepped back, turned the handle, and pulled. The door didn’t budge. “Gee, it seems to be stuck. Can you help me open it?” She glanced at him, batted her eyelashes in a pure Texas simper.
Purple rage and frustration glared from his distorted face. “Damn it, woman, tell me where it is.” He reached for her with both hands.
The moment he let go of the door, Jill tugged with every ounce of strength. It flew back against them. They lost their balance. She recovered first and dashed through.
“Sheriff, Sheriff.” She yelled in her college cheerleading voice while she flew down the hall, aches forgotten. Where was everyone? She heard footsteps behind her, but didn’t stop to turn around, raced through a door at the end of the hall, thankful it was unlocked.
Detective Riley and Jerrod sat on a bench with cups in their hands. They rose at her precipitous entrance.
“Thank God, I found you.”
“What’s the matter?” Riley stepped toward her.
“He’s not real.”
JERROD REACHED JILL first and couldn’t resist pulling her to him. He didn’t know what her relationship to the detective was, but, right now, he didn’t care. When she’d run to the Fort Worth man earlier, a sharp pain struck Jerrod in the middle of his chest. Jealousy?
“What do you mean?” he asked. She leaned into him, breathing fast.
Jill didn’t act as though she was involved with anyone else. She’d never have let them make love, if that was the case. He’d begun to recognize her fear of appearing to do something inappropriate.
He shoved his personal issues aside. She needed him focused. After barely touching the bruise on her cheek, he reluctantly set her a short distance away.
“What do you mean?” Jerrod repeated. “Who’s not real?”
“Callahan,” she sputtered, and tears began to pool.
“Didn’t your attorney back home contact him for you?” Riley’s eyebrows drew together.
She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
Jerrod looked at Riley. What the hell was going on?
The door slammed open so hard, it cracked against the wall. Jill jumped behind Jerrod.
“Guys, we may have a problem.” Sheriff Hardwick stopped. Drew in a quick breath. “Glad to see you’re here, Ms. Barlow,” he said in a calmer voice. “Where’s Callahan?”
“I left him down the way.” She gestured toward the hall.
“What alerted you, Sheriff?” Riley asked.
“A Mr. James Russell called, claiming to be her lawyer. He said mechanical problems with the plane delayed him, and he wouldn’t arrive until late this afternoon.”
“Send your deputies after the imposter.” Jerrod’s voice held an edge he normally used only in court.
“Already done. I’m glad to see Ms. Barlow in here. Neither of them were in the interrogation room, and I was afraid... Well, it’s a load off my mind to see you here.” He held out a cell in a plastic bag to Jill. “This yours?”
She nodded and reached for the phone.
“My guys found it when they went back to search the scene in the daylight. I’d return it to you, but it’s evidence.”
Jill’s arm dropped by her side in apparent resignation.
“We found it underneath the remnants of your purse. Snow shouldn’t have affected any fingerprints. Do you want to call your lawyer friend in Fort Worth? Ask what the name of the guy is she’s sending you. You can use my office phone.”
She nodded. They all trooped down the hall.
First Jill called Karen to get Michelle’s number. Then she phoned her attorney. “Hey, Peg. Is Michelle in the office... Probate, huh? Maybe you can help. Do you know the name of the lawyer she’d contacted for me... James Russell? Okay... No. No problem. Thanks. Tell her I’ll be in touch.”
“Who the hell was Callahan, and how did he find out about this?” Jerrod searched the faces of those seated in the sheriff’s office. “Did you tell him things about the gambling consortium?” Jerrod used his interrogator voice, demanding she answer.
Jill nodded. “But if they sent him he already knew.”
“What made you suspect a problem?” Riley’s fingers tapped a rhythmic beat on his leg.
“He was way too insistent I tell him where the flash-drive is, and he didn’t know Michelle doesn’t have a dog. She’s allergic and can’t be around them.”
One of Jack’s deputies stuck his head in the room. “No sign of the attorney, Sheriff.”
“Thanks. Is Clara running his name through the Vermont Bar Association directory?”
“She’s working that angle.” The deputy closed the door.
“Can Jill go home?” Jerrod kept an arm around her shoulder, and she didn’t pull away, for which he was grateful.
“Apparently, my jail is no safer than anywhere else. You have my apologies, Ms. Barlow. I was trying to help. As you know, you’ve always been free to go,” Jack said.
Jill nodded and sank against Jerrod. He kept his arm around her waist for support.
“This isn’t over, Ms. Barlow. Whoever is after the flash drive is damned determined. If my department can do anything to help, please let me know.” He faced Jerrod. “We’re continuing to pour through the evidence. We’ll figure out what kind of gun the assailant used to shoot your brother. You know we’ll do our best to bring in the culprit.”
“Thanks, Jack.” He looked over at the detective and down at Jill. “You okay if Riley comes along with us?” She nodded.
JILL SHOWERED AT JERROD’S house and changed into fresh clothes. With her head high and her shoulders back, she went down the stairs to see what was next. A “next” always followed.
The aroma of coffee and bacon led her to the kitchen. Jerrod and Mike rose, but she waved them back down.
“Can I fix you one of these?” Jerrod lifted half of what looked and smelled like a bacon and egg sandwich in the air.
“It’s good, Ms. Barlow, and you need to eat to keep up your strength.” Riley suggested.
“After all this, you can call me Jill, and I’m calling you Mike. Yes, Jerrod, please, fix whatever you’re having. I’m starving. After a gallon of coffee and something to eat, I’ll be fine.” If she repeated her mantra often enough, she might begin to believe her own words.
Jerrod lit a fire under the skillet, and Mike poured her a cup of coffee. Not bad being waited on by two attractive men. And they were. Jeez, where’d that crazily inappropriate thought come from? Maybe because everything was in chaos. She needed space between her and the walking nightmare her life had become. Who could help more than these two handsome men?
“How much do your children know about any of this?” Jerrod skillfully flipped the egg.
The crackling sound made Jill’s mouth water. She sipped her coffee. “Just how their father was murdered.” She shook her head. “I didn’t find Dad’s note or the flash drive until after I arrived here. I’ve only seen them once, when they came for my birthday, and I didn’t want to ruin the visit by telling them. It didn’t seem to be the sort of thing to share in a note or email.”
“Mayo okay?” Jerrod held up the jar.
She nodded and watched him slap the sandwich together.
“Jerrod and I agree you should tell them, Jill.” Mike got up and freshened his cup. “Why? They’d only worry, and they can’t do anything.”
“I know my kids would want to know about this situation.” Jerrod set the plate in front of her with potato chips piled beside the sandwich.
“I’m trying to keep them safe.” She shook her head, released a long sigh, and made herself eat. “Um, good.” Popped a chip in her mouth and followed with the strong, black coffee. “A couple of more bites, and I’ll be a new woman.”
No one said anything while she ate half the meal. “What was your point about my kids?” She spoke into the silence.
“Knowledge is power, and if you want to keep them safe, you need to clue them in on what’s going on. And why.” Jerrod reached over and snagged a chip. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Help yourself. I’ll never finish all of them.” She raised the cup, took a sip, and peered at him over the top. “Did you tell your son after you promised not to?”
Jerrod stood, walked around the kitchen, stopped, and leaned against the counter. “I’d already talked with him before you warned me not to. I was concerned about you. I believed, and still do, he could help.” He looked at Mike.
“It’s good he did, Jill. Because although we’ve run into some negative consequences, we’ve learned the Austin Bureau didn’t investigate. And if your father turned over incriminating information, a record of that should exist—”
“What do you mean if?” She hated her screechy tone.
“Hear me out.” Mike leaned toward her. “That they didn’t is damning evidence something rotten has been going on.”
Jill rested her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. God, did everyone know about the gambling consortium? More and more her options were narrowing to one. She’d have to run.
Jerrod came over to where she sat and knelt, taking both her hands in his. “Jill, where’s the flash drive? Let’s look at it, because that’ll help us determine who in law enforcement to give it to. Don’s boss can give us some guidance with that.”
She pulled her hands away, s
tood, and pushed her chair under the table. She picked up her plate. “Anybody want the leftovers?” The men stared at her. “No takers, huh?” Determined steps carried her to the sink, and she dumped the scraps down the disposal. The loud gurgle when she turned it on jarred the otherwise quiet kitchen. “Thank you for the meal. If I heard correctly, my house has a new back door and a security system. Do you have the keys?”
“Yes.” Jerrod nodded.
“If you’ll get them for me, I’ll go on over.” She left the kitchen. The men followed. “I appreciate you putting me up for so long.” She turned toward the stairs. On the second step, Jerrod grabbed her arm. She looked down at his hand and met his gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mike move closer.
Jerrod dropped her wrist.
“I’m going upstairs to pack my things, and if you’ll get my key and instructions, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“What about the flash drive, Jill?” Mike stopped at the bottom of the staircase.
“It’s safe where it is.” She turned her back and climbed the stairs.
“Hell.”
“Damn.”
Chapter Fifteen
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16
“What the hell do you mean, it didn’t work?” Sid Cranston’s blood pressure zoomed. His head might explode at this report of yet another failed attempt to deal with the woman. Judson told him the scuttlebutt in town was that Barlow was at the jail and needed a lawyer. Sid had been certain Phil Peterson could carry off the impersonation.
“She told me everything about her daddy, Richardson, and the flash drive. Things were going great, until she got antsy when I pushed for the location of the storage device,” Peterson said. “Mr. C, she’s smarter than some broads. We were in one of the interview rooms in the jail, and I couldn’t get away with strong-arming her.”
“It’s critical to get hold of her and the unit.” Sid nearly bit through his cigar. Damn, did he need to go to Vermont?
“Judson and I have a plan, Mr. C.”
“Tell me.” Sid re-lit his cigar and took a deep drag.
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