by Robin Caroll
Rafe nodded.
“As an agent, how do you get around all that?” Devane shoved a forkful of sunny-side up fried eggs and scattered southern hash browns into his mouth.
The man ate with such relish it was almost hard to be disgusted. Hard, but not impossible.
“As agents, we’re called to an even higher standard than other people. Just like Christians hold themselves to a higher moral standard than nonbelievers.” Which is why Rafe knew he’d been such a sinner to have loved Georgia, even though he’d fallen in love with her before he’d given his life to God. Of course, he found it extremely ironic that Georgia was the one who’d led him to Jesus.
“You really think that?” Hartlock paused in his precise cutting and eating of his pancakes, snatching Rafe’s attention.
“I do.” Something nudged against Rafe’s conscience. “Don’t you?”
Hartlock shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t know. I’m not into all that religion stuff.”
That explained a lot. Rafe refrained from going into a salvation sermon. This wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place, and Hartlock most definitely wasn’t open to the conversation.
“I’ll need to talk with this Hayden myself.” Hartlock switched subjects so quickly, it took Rafe a moment to recover.
“Certainly. Won’t be a problem. But it is a weekend.” Hartlock never did explain why he couldn’t wait until Monday. Did they think Rafe was down here on vacation or something?
“I like the element of surprise, don’t you?” Using Rafe’s own words . . . did Alphonse tell Hartlock everything?
“When it’s something to surprise, yeah, I do.” He managed to swallow a bite of toast despite the strained conversation.
Devane, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have a problem as he finished off his biscuits and gravy in a large bite, then noisily ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’m anxious to meet Daniel Tate’s son.”
“You have to remember Simpson’s not exactly thrilled over the revelation. He had quite a shock. He adored the man who raised him, the man he believed to be his father.” Rafe forced his expression to remain neutral.
“Of course,” Devane replied.
Hartlock shoved his plate toward the center of the table. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hold my impression until after I’ve met the man.”
“Understandable.” Rafe finished his coffee. What would Hartlock think about Rafe sharing the file with Simpson?
Probably wouldn’t be too happy. More than likely, he’d be furious and write up Rafe.
“You didn’t mention to him that more agents were coming, did you?” Hartlock’s eyes were barely narrowed, but enough for Rafe to get the point.
“No.” But two could play his game. “Did you want me to?”
Hartlock hesitated, just long enough for the hairs on the back of Rafe’s neck to notice. “Of course not.”
Rafe forced the smile as he motioned to the waitress for the check. “Good. Very good.”
“Do you have any idea where Hayden is today?”
“Could be at home. I doubt he’s at the station.”
The waitress handed Rafe the check. Hartlock took it out of his hand. “I’ll put it on my expense account.” His smile was colder than the last sip of coffee in Rafe’s cup.
“Thanks.” Rafe struggled to his feet. He shoved the chair back up to the table, scraping the legs against the time-worn floor, and led the way out of the diner.
The wind gusted as the three agents exited. Leaves danced across the parking lot, flipping and twirling.
“And Bella Miller. I’ll want to speak with her as well.” Hartlock crossed his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find her today, would you?”
Rafe’s mouth went drier than the brown leaves littering the curb. “No.”
Hartlock nodded. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
What was Hartlock’s interest in Bella? Those hairs on the back of Rafe’s neck rose to full attention.
Chapter Nineteen
“He that would live in peace and at ease must not speak all he knows or all he sees.”
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
“Which case?” Bella abandoned her desk to perch on the arm of the couch, looking over Hayden’s shoulder to his iPad.
“The conspiracy and wire fraud one.” Hayden enlarged the text. “A case against a mortgage firm. Nine indicted. All settled but two—the owner of the company and one of the managers.”
Bella tapped her fingers on the edge of the couch, waiting for Hayden to get to the next page of details.
Chubbers nudged her hand. She rubbed between his ears like he loved.
“The manager’s trial was before Daniel. Both Devane and Hartlock were the agents of record, as well as being on the witness list.”
“And the owner of the company?”
“His trial date was set for after the manager’s.” Hayden flicked his wrist to access the next page. “Ended up being transferred to another judge after Daniel’s murder.”
She slumped down to the cushion, crowding Hayden. “What’s the manager’s name?”
“Cason Moore.”
“And the government won, right?”
“Yeah. Jury trial. Not guilty of mortgage fraud, but of wire fraud. And conspiracy.” He moved to another page. “All of the ones who took a plea bargain and became government witnesses testified against Moore, except for one of the ladies.”
“How’d she manage to get out of testifying?”
“She died.”
Bella sat up straight. “Was she murdered?”
“No. Cancer. Had been sick with it for years.”
“Oh.” She bit back her disappointment. “So this Cason Moore was found guilty. What did Daniel sentence him to?” She bit her lip while Hayden looked up the answer.
“Four months in federal prison camp.”
“A weekend.” She leaned back against the couch.
“Excuse me?”
Bella chuckled. “Anything you count in months in a fed camp is called a weekend by the inmates.” She leaned forward again. “Let me guess, those others who turned into government witnesses got deals with no prison time?”
“Actually,” he paused as he forwarded to another page, “one of their witnesses, the comptroller, a Mark Dossey, got a year and a day.”
“So he could be out in seven months. That’s really strange for one of the government’s witnesses to serve more time than a defendant who went to trial.”
Hayden looked up from the iPad to shoot her a quizzical look. “Really strange?”
“Yeah. That’s normally one of the enticing factors to turn government witness—less prison time than if you go to trial.” It didn’t make sense. Unless . . . “Did Daniel sentence the government witness?” Her mind raced across other possible explanations while Hayden searched.
“Daniel sentenced everyone in the case with the exception of the owner because his trial was held after Daniel’s murder.”
Daniel was fair if nothing else. For him to have sentenced a government witness to a harsher sentence than a defendant found guilty by a jury . . . “He didn’t believe the witness.” Bella jumped to her feet. “That’s the only reason why Daniel would give him a tougher sentence than Moore. He didn’t believe this Dossey character on the stand.”
Hayden tapped a few more times on his device, then set it on the coffee table. “What exactly does that mean? If he thought a witness was lying . . . that’s perjury.”
“Only if the person on the stand is caught in a lie.” She paced, swinging her arms. It helped her think.
“Want me to order the transcript?”
“Yeah—no. It doesn’t matter. This is the case. I know it. Daniel’s sentencing discr
epancy is enough for me.”
“Okay, so this is the case. What now?”
She sank onto the chair. “I don’t know. I can’t think.” Her mind went in a gazillion different directions at the moment.
Hayden stood and stretched. “How about a fresh pot of coffee to help get the old brain cells kicking?”
“Yes, please.” She stared absently out the window as Hayden went to the kitchen.
It made sense. But she needed to be able to prove it all. Otherwise Hartlock and Devane would dispute her eyewitness account. She was a suspect. The evidence she’d have to have must be indisputable.
She’d have to find the witness who’d come to Daniel. But after his murder, would he or she be willing to tell the truth? He would have to.
Hayden returned with two cups of coffee.
“We need a list of everyone who actually testified at Moore’s trial.” She accepted the cup.
Wonderful, blissful coffee.
“Okay.” Hayden returned to his seat on the couch. He set down the cup and lifted the iPad. “Let me see what I can find out.”
Bella warmed her hands on the mug as she continued slowly pacing. And thinking. She turned to Hayden. “Were there any other agents on the case?”
“Give me a second.”
How high did this go? ASAC? SAC? If they were involved at all with the witness prepping, then they almost had to be in on this.
“Hartlock and Devane were the only agents.”
She ran her finger along the lip of the cup. “Is there any notation who their supervisor was on the case?”
“Hang on.”
Did everything have to take forever?
“Alphonse Jackson.”
Disappointment bittered the coffee on her tongue. He’d been the one she reported to when she did her freelance for the FBI. She liked him. Had entertained the thought several times to call him and tell him what she’d witnessed.
Man, was she glad now she hadn’t followed through on that idea.
“Who’s he?” Hayden took a sip.
“The SAC of the Little Rock office.”
“You know him?”
“Yes. And I like him. Well, I did.” If he was the super on the case and Hartlock and Devane had threatened witnesses into lying . . . well, then it was almost proof he was at least aware of their tactics. It broke her heart.
Chubbers bounded off his chair and rushed to the front door. He growled low in his throat and barked twice.
Hayden shoved to his feet and joined her at the window. Two cars pulled up the driveway. They both recognized the man who stepped from the first car. “Looks like Agent Rafe Baxter has come to visit.”
Her blood froze as she saw the two men who got out of the unmarked bureau vehicle.
“I don’t know who those guys are.” Hayden spared her a glance.
“I do.” Her knees gave out, and she sagged against Hayden. “Those are Agents Lars Hartlock and Jack Devane.”
“What do you want me to do?” Hayden supported Bella, who would have fallen had he not grabbed her.
Her face was paler than white, and her eyes wider than he’d ever seen.
“Bella.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. She stared out the window with the same expression.
Terror.
They had no time. He shook her and raised his voice. “Bella.”
She jerked, then met his stare.
“Think fast. What do you want to do?”
“Run. I have to run.” She moved out of his grasp as if she could walk on water. “I have a bag already packed. I have another identity. I’ll disappear in less than thirty minutes.” She was in the hallway to the bedroom before he caught her.
“You can’t run. Rafe knows you’re here.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Your truck is parked out front.”
She trembled. He pulled her against his chest. Lord, show me what to do. Men’s voices drew nearer. Chubbers alternated between barking and growling.
And it came to him what to do. “Shower.”
“What?” Her eyes held more focus.
“Get in the bathroom and turn on the shower. On hot. So steam will seep out under the door.” He ushered her to the bathroom. “I’ll tell them you’re in the shower because you’re not feeling well. I’m taking care of you.”
“Hayden . . .”
He left the bedroom door open and shoved her in the bathroom. “Do as I tell you. Shower. Don’t turn it off or come out until I tell you it’s clear.” He hesitated, then placed a kiss on her forehead. “You can trust me. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled the door closed and turned back to the living room.
A loud knock rapped against the front door. Chubbers barked like he wanted to rip out someone’s throat.
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Hello?” Rafe’s voice sounded from the porch.
“Chubbers, quiet.”
The dog immediately stopped barking but stayed in an alert stance. For a woman who claimed to be a cat person, Bella had sure trained her dog well.
Hayden stuck his iPad in the desk drawer with the paperwork he’d brought. He turned off her computer monitor before cracking open the front door. “Agent Baxter. What a surprise.”
“Wasn’t so hard to track you down.” Rafe’s gaze shot over Hayden’s shoulder. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m here checking on Bella.”
One of the men behind him cleared his throat. Loudly.
Rafe pivoted, motioning to the men hovering on the porch. “Hayden Simpson, these are colleagues of mine. With the FBI. Assistant Special Agent in Charge Lars Hartlock and Agent Jack Devane. They’re interested in speaking with you.”
He nodded at the two men, taking in their intense and probing study of him but keeping the door cracked somewhat as a shield. “Agents.” He looked back at Rafe. “I would ask y’all in, but Bella isn’t feeling well. She’s come down with something, and I’m just here to make her some chicken noodle soup.” Now he’d have to make her soup, just so he won’t have lied to the FBI. That was, after all, a federal offense.
Then again, did it even matter when they were murderers?
“Oh. Is she okay?” Genuine concern draped over Rafe’s face.
Hayden swallowed a grin. Was it possible the agent was smitten with Bella? How would he feel about being attracted to the woman he sought in his case? “Uh, she’s fine. Probably just a cold, but she’s been running a fever since early this morning.” He glanced back at the two agents. “We’re just hoping it’s not the flu. It is the season.”
“We really would like to speak with her,” Agent—which one? Had to be Hartlock as he had the creepiest look—interjected.
Rafe’s jaw dropped. Just for a moment, but Hayden caught it. Rafe had no idea they’d wanted to question Bella.
Hayden straightened and tapped his outer thigh. Chubbers was at his side in protective stance in a moment, a growl low in his throat. “Why?”
“It’s regarding an official FBI investigation.” Hartlock crossed his arms over his chest, making his biceps jump under his taut long-sleeved Henley.
Baloney! Hayden knew what was really going on—they were here to get a look at her and see if she was Remington.
Lord, give me strength.
These were the men who’d murdered his biological father. Had shot Daniel Tate down in cold blood. God, please give me strength. A lot.
He put on a fake smile. “Well, I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but you’ll have to come back in a day or so. She’s in the shower right now and will most likely go straight to bed when she gets out. I told her I’d wake her in a few hours to see if she’d like to eat.”
“So you’re just gonna hang out while she sleeps?” Th
e tone and expression of Hartlock grated against Hayden’s nerves. “She your girlfriend or something?”
What nerve and rudeness. How’d this man become an ASAC? He had the personality of a pit bull. He patted his thigh again. Chubbers moved against him, a growl rumbling in the pit of his chest.
“I’m hanging out with the dog.” He resisted the burning urge to laugh at Hartlock’s wide eyes.
“Is it yours?”
“Chubbers here?” He reached down and rubbed the Lab’s head. Remington had been a cat person. Bella was a dog person. “I wish. No, he is Bella’s pride and joy. She loves this boy as if he were her baby. She raised him from a puppy. He just tolerates me.”
“I’m sorry she’s ill.” Rafe nodded toward the hallway behind Hayden.
He glanced over his shoulder. Just as he’d thought, the chilly air from the October morning had seeped through the open front door, and steam puffed out from the bathroom like a charge of miniature Casper the friendly ghosts. “I’ll let her know you dropped by.”
“We also need to ask you a few questions, Commissioner Simpson.” Hartlock was relentless.
Hayden widened his stance and squared his shoulders. Posturing.
By the slight shifting, Hartlock recognized the boundary had been set.
“Well, Agent, I can appreciate that, but I’m not on duty right now. We may be small here in Hopewell, but we do give the police officers days off. This weekend is my time off. And as I’ve already told you, I’m helping out a sick friend.”
“We just have a few—”
Hayden held up his hand. “She’ll be needing my help soon, so I really can’t talk right now. Why don’t y’all come by my office on Monday morning when I’m back at work? Say, about nine o’clock? You can ask me all those questions you have, and we’ll have a right nice chat. How’s that?” He laid the accent on thick, resisting the strong urge to really go redneck on the arrogant agent.
“We’re sorry to have bothered y’all.” Rafe took a step backward. “Tell Ms. Miller we hope she feels better.”
“I will.” Hayden met Rafe’s gaze. A world of understanding passed between them, and Hayden caught the unspoken message loud and clear.