by Robin Caroll
One that would let her live.
Simon Lancaster couldn’t be up for parole. Not yet . . . not ever.
Rafe stared at the phone he still held. He wanted to scream in outrage like Maddie but couldn’t. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel. He was numb.
In a very short time, he’d be allowed to speak at the parole hearing. To plead to the members of the board not to let out the man who’d killed two innocent people . . . two loving parents . . . two strong Christian missionaries.
Could he do it? Could he look across the room and see Simon Lancaster without the rage boiling under his skin? Would he be able to restrain himself when everything in him fought for taking matters into his own hands?
All through Lancaster’s trial, he’d sat in the back of the room, clenching his jaw. The raw hatred that simmered inside him gave him migraines. Or was it his body’s reaction to the constantly tensed muscles?
He couldn’t do it again.
Lord, I know I don’t deserve it, but please help me.
Images of his parents flitted across his mind like wisps of fog dancing over the bayou. Kind . . . gentle . . . every kid’s ideal parents in their encouragement, love, and support. Giving his sisters and him boundaries, yet urging them to break free and fly to follow their dreams.
All that had been cut off when Simon Lancaster got behind the wheel of his oversized pickup truck after having several-too-many shots at the local bar. He’d run a stoplight and T-boned the Baxter’s little compact, ending their lives in a single moment.
Rafe blinked away the memories and the tears. That wasn’t 100 percent true. His mother had survived the impact. Made it to the hospital’s emergency room in the back of an ambulance. She held on until Rafe arrived. Damaged spinal cord and multiple, massive internal injuries made her final words just a breath, but Rafe would never forget them.
“Faith, hope, love . . . son.”
And then she was gone.
Rafe jammed the cell back into his belt clip and shoved himself up from the motel bed. He paced. He couldn’t afford the memories and emotions at the moment. He had to concentrate on the case. Finish what he came here for and get back to Little Rock. Then he’d decide what to do about Lancaster’s parole hearing.
He opened his laptop and signed on to the Internet. While he waited for it to load, he grabbed his water bottle and guzzled the no-longer-cold liquid. His thoughts were scattered. Too much going on in his mind. Darren. Savannah. Lancaster.
No, he had to focus. On the case. Nothing else.
His computer sounded the e-mail alert chime.
He accessed his e-mail account. Two junk e-mails, which he sent to the trash bin with one click, and one message from Hartlock.
Will run photos through system and let you know if anything pops up. Alphonse said to tell you not to dally—if you don’t find a connection to the case in the next day or so, he wants you to head back. Hang tough, buddy. If the answer’s there, you’ll find it. Good luck.
Rafe replied with a quick thanks, then shut his laptop. A connection in the next day or so? That was pushing it.
He arranged the copies of the case file back on the bed. Then rearranged them. He stood back, studying, committing everything to memory.
Sirens blasted outside.
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand—10:20 p.m. Crossing the room, he peered out the window into the darkness. Two police cruisers raced past the motel. Their tires zinged over the pavement.
His muscles responded with a twitch before he reminded himself why he was here. But . . . maybe, just maybe, if he followed them, he’d get to see Hayden Simpson in action. Maybe he’d gain some insight on the man.
He sure had nothing better to do than stay in the room and go stir crazy.
Rafe snatched his coat from the back of the chair and pulled his keys from his pocket. Maybe this was nothing.
But maybe he’d find something. Even if it was minor, it could be a break.
Lord knew he needed some kind of break.
Chapter Eleven
“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear.”
MARK TWAIN
“What does that mean . . . they found Emily’s car?” Ardy paced the front windows of the Baxter ranch-style home, peering out on every pass.
“Just that. Her car was found.” Bella inched to the edge of the couch. In the ten minutes since Hayden had left, every nerve in her body felt as if it sat outside her skin. None of them had wanted to eat, so she’d covered the casserole and stuck it in the refrigerator. Now her stomach twisted and turned like the dead leaves trapped in the bayou’s wind.
“But what about Emily?” Ardy turned and began her next pass. If she kept up her pace, she’d wear a hole in the carpet.
“It doesn’t mean anything. Emily could have left her car there.” But Bella knew that was a reach. Emily was irresponsible and flighty, but that car was her pride and joy.
“Don’t they know she has a disorder?” Ardy stopped pacing in front of Bella. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?”
She knew right away who Ardy spoke of, even though the flip in topic of conversation came from out of the blue. “Sure. In time.” Bella swallowed the monument in her throat. “He’s just got to have a little time to process everything.” But if he forgave her was a whole other story, one that filled her chest with ice.
“I never expected to have to tell him.” Ardy wrung her hands. “I hate that he despises me . . . and now, everything with Emily.”
Bella stood, her own knees weak. “He doesn’t despise you. He’s just shocked. You took him by surprise is all.” All because of that nosy agent Baxter and the FBI. She curled her hands at her side. “He’ll come around.” But she, on the other hand, would have to leave. Soon.
“I hope so.” Ardy turned and paced again. “I wish we’d hear something about Emily. Coon Lake . . . what could she be doing out there?”
Crossing her arms over her midsection, Bella could imagine a scenario. One she wouldn’t share with Ardy.
An isolated, wooded area surrounded the lake. A few straggling cabins sat along the edge. One or two piers marred the beautiful tranquility of Coon Lake. Teenagers would haunt the area to make out, but not on a Tuesday night. And definitely not now. Human presence there this time of year would be limited. A perfect place to dump a car.
And a body.
Bella shivered and glanced out the window. She didn’t know what she expected to see in the darkness, but Ardy’s pacing, and questions, wore thin on her nerves.
“I just can’t stand the not knowing.” Ardy pivoted and continued her march.
“Why don’t I run out to Coon Lake and see what I can find?” She needed something to do anyway. Anything to keep her mind off the burning question Hayden would soon ask.
And if a worst-case scenario was out at the lake, she could be there for her best friend.
Ardy gave Bella a hug. “Would you mind?”
“Of course not.” Bella squeezed Ardy back. She couldn’t tell when she’d have to run without notice. She would so miss Ardy. She released the woman she loved like a mother, blinking back the tears. “But I don’t have my truck here.”
“Take my car. Keys are on the floorboard.”
Bella nodded and headed to the front door. “I’ll call you as soon as I find out anything.” She paused, wondering if Hayden’s mother would be okay by herself. “As soon as I can.”
“Thank you.” Ardy hugged herself, returning to her self-appointed pace-race.
Bella let herself out the front door. The snap of chill wrapped around her like a vise, squeezing against her ribs. She quickened her steps to the old Honda sitting alone in the drive. Sure enough, keys waited on the floor mat under the steering wheel.
She slipp
ed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. A half-empty coffee cup sat in the console, filling the car with the hint of its stench. She blew on her hands as she rubbed them together before putting them on the wheel. Within seconds she backed onto the road and headed toward Coon Lake.
Maybe this was a mistake. After all, she didn’t want to provide Hayden with an opportunity to question her until she had some idea of a response. But something inside, the instinct that said her friend needed her, screamed louder than her own discomfort.
She pressed the accelerator harder.
Darkness grew deeper than the ebony of wet ink. Bella trembled as she sped. Her thoughts spun faster than the tires on the road.
Was it only the car the police had found? Was there evidence of foul play in the vehicle? Where was Emily?
Bad news would push Hayden over the edge. He’d been thrust into an authority position with his sister, and their strained relationship had only worsened. Add to the fact that she’d been diagnosed as bipolar just over a year ago. As if it happened on Hayden’s watch. Like it was all his fault she was bipolar. The situation ate at him all the time, and Bella had no way to help.
Well, not without giving herself up by revealing her training.
She turned onto the dirt road leading to the lake. Up ahead the flashing cruiser lights shocked the night. Her heart raced. The last time she’d had flashing lights disrupt a dark, calm night . . .
No, she refused to revisit those places she’d closed off inside her mind. And heart.
Bella parked the car behind Hayden’s. Two cruisers sat at angles, blue lights going as well as headlights piercing the lakeside area.
Emily’s car sat with its nose to the lake.
Exiting, she shoved her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie and picked her way carefully to the back of a cruiser. The fishy scent rolled off the lake with the fog. Hayden stood silhouetted by his headlights. His head ducked as he spoke with an officer.
“And get our tow truck out here. I want this car at the impound lot for our unit to go over tonight.”
Most people who didn’t know him well wouldn’t be able to pick up the emotion in his voice, but Bella wasn’t most people. She could detect the nuances of his tone. His posture. His mannerisms. And right now, Hayden was stressed to the point of exploding.
She took a step toward him, careful to stay away from Emily’s car and any evidence.
“Bella? Bella Miller?”
The voice rooted her feet to the cold ground.
“Hi. I thought that was you.” He stood beside her, smiling a crooked grin.
“Agent Baxter, what are you doing here?”
After all this time, would Remington Wyatt resurface?
She wasn’t that stupid. Couldn’t be. She’d managed to stay hidden well for three years. No way would she stick her head out now.
Unless Rafe Baxter yanked her chain.
He stared at the data before him. Was it possible she’d been hiding right under their noses?
No, she wouldn’t dare stay too close.
Yet, the system didn’t lie. He’d executed the computer-generated age-progression photo for her from three years ago. Then this new one, and placed them side by side.
Couldn’t tell about eye color—yet. Remington’s cheekbones were more pronounced. Hair color and style was different, but that was always the first alteration someone on the run made.
As far as build, Remington was slighter, leaner. But who knew what changes had occurred over the last couple of years?
There were striking similarities, but the system hadn’t marked them a match yet. What would he do if it did? Without hesitation, he knew.
He’d take her out, plain and simple. Just as he’d intended three years ago, had they found her.
Now, even more than before, he had to keep her quiet. He had more at stake now. Too much to lose.
Letting out a sigh, he reached for his private cell. He’d have to let the others know she was possibly back in play.
He leaned forward, his nose less than an inch away from his widescreen monitor.
If that’s you, Remington, you should have stayed buried.
Bella Miller’s reception was colder than the wind whipping across the lake.
Rafe’s training antennae shot to the moonless sky. “The police cars raced by the motel. I was up and bored, so . . .”
“So you just thought you’d follow them? That’s odd.” She narrowed her eyes. Even in the dim lighting, there was no mistaking the distrust.
Another gust came off the lake, this time pushing a fresh, spicy scent teasingly under his nose. Bella Miller. Her perfume? Shampoo? Whatever it was, his gut reacted in a way it shouldn’t.
He shook off the attraction. “Yeah. I’ve been accused of a lot worse than being odd before.” He jerked his head toward Hayden and the officers huddled by a car. “What’s going on?”
She toed something on the ground. “Nothing exciting, I’m afraid. Just an abandoned car.”
But something in her tone . . . “An abandoned car warranted two police cars and the appearance of the police commissioner?”
“We’re a small town, Agent. We take excitement where we can find it.”
Maybe . . . but maybe not. “Have they identified the owner of the vehicle? Maybe I could help run some queries.”
“They know.” Her tone was sharp, snappish.
He waited for her to elaborate. After several long moments passed, he realized she wasn’t going to offer more. “Is it someone important? Like the mayor or something?”
“No.”
Her noncommittal responses reminded him of Riley.
“Well then, whose car is it?”
Bella let out what sounded an awful lot like a long-suffering sigh. “Hayden’s little sister’s.”
Oh. That explained a lot. Like the number of responders. And Bella being here. He lowered his voice. “Is she missing?”
“Yes.” Her answer was a whisper on the wind.
Rafe tried to imagine how he’d feel if he were in Simpson’s shoes. While Maddie and Riley both tried his patience, he loved his sisters. If they were missing . . .
“Look, as you can imagine, this is personal to Hayden. I’m sure you mean well, but things are covered here.”
Defensive or protective?
“Agent Baxter, Bella, what are you doing here?” Simpson’s face was hidden in the shadows, so Rafe couldn’t see his expression.
Bella turned to Simpson. “What’d you find?”
He ignored her and focused on Rafe. “Agent Baxter?”
Rafe forced a lightness he didn’t feel into his voice. “I saw the cruisers from the motel. I was bored, what can I say? I thought I’d follow to see if I could be of any assistance.”
“Appreciate your interest, but we have it under control.” A polite butt out, but a dismissal all the same.
Rafe’s face burned, but luckily the night hid the blush. “Well . . . okay.” He started to turn, then stopped. No sense letting an opportunity get away. “By any chance, did you ask your mother about the birth certificate and Daniel Tate?”
Simpson stood ramrod straight. “I did.”
A tangible tension stomped between them.
The hair on the back of Rafe’s neck stood at attention. Years of honing his professional instinct kept his mouth shut. His case was about to get a hot lead. He just had to wait on it.
Simpson’s face turned to Bella’s. Something, Rafe couldn’t distinguish what, passed between the two. An eternity later the police commissioner cleared his throat. “Daniel Tate was my biological father.”
No verbal response came to Rafe. But a whole lot warred in his mind in that instant.
Had Hayden Simpson known this fact?
/> Was Hayden Simpson involved in Daniel Tate’s murder?
If Simpson didn’t know, had someone else, and were they the ones responsible for Tate’s murder?
How did this information tie into Tate’s murder?
“I didn’t know until my mother told me tonight.” Simpson’s focus pinned to Rafe.
He needed time to think how to word his questions. But not allow too much time for Simpson to form planned responses. “I know you’re busy right now. Why don’t I come into your office first thing in the morning to discuss this?”
Simpson nodded. “I get in at eight.”
“I’ll see you then.” Rafe jerked his head in Bella’s direction. “Good night, Ms. Miller.”
She didn’t respond, but he didn’t care. His feet carried him back to his car, yet his mind already plotted questions.
Adrenaline and excitement battled to claim the rate of his pulse as he got into his car.
He couldn’t wait to report this to Jackson. Talk about getting something to go on. This was a primo lead. His new SAC had to respect his insight now.
He’d earned it.
Chapter Twelve
“Aim above morality. Be not simply good, be good for something.”
HENRY DAVID THOREAU
“What did you find?” Bella’s question snapped Hayden from his mind-wandering.
The breeze coming off Coon Lake was nothing compared to the iciness in his chest. Where was his sister?
“Nothing. Her purse isn’t there, the keys are gone . . . nothing.” He’d been so hopeful to find something—anything—that would give an indication of where Emily went.
Bella cocked her head. “Any sign of foul play?”
His chest compressed. “We think there might be a blood drop on the driver’s floorboard but can’t say for sure until the crime techs check it out.” He let out a long sigh. “Even if it is, doesn’t mean it’s fresh.”
“Right.” Her breath left a faint fog in the air between them. Fall was in full swing. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back to the original.