Liar, Liar

by Winter Austin

  “Small-town people don’t like their dirty laundry aired for the world to see.”

  Don’t I know it. “Ma’am, if I may, could I have information pulled up on a . . . ” Liza looked closely at the business card, “Neil J. Lundy, civil engineer at the Thayer Lotts firm?”

  “Your reason?”

  “Something about him feels off to me. I just want to ease my mind.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have that warrant for you within the next half hour or so.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. You wrap it up down there and get back. Your former partner did enough damage to the FBI image in that county. I don’t need any more.”

  The typical silence followed Montrose’s final orders. Liza stashed her phone and glanced down at the banker’s box. It was going with her. Avery-Ripley had to leave some kind of clue behind. Grabbing the evidence off the floor, she vacated the chair and tucked the box under her arm.

  Pursue Ripley’s death. Oh joy.

  Still, if that’s the route Montrose wanted her to go, it meant another encounter with Shane Hamilton.

  That in and of itself was worth jumping into a homicide investigation.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shane stared, dumbfounded, at the dashboard. He had returned to the department to hide out in the back lot to eat his sandwich and savor his coffee. Lunch started to slosh around in his stomach. “Come again?”

  “I repeat,” Doc Drummond said over their phone connection, “Donovan Frost was dead before Gene Avery. The insects can tell us more, but after the quick assessment from the forensic entomologist expert at DCI, she says the larvae are about four days old, and that was going off what she could see of the larvae through video chat. Once she has them in her possession, she can give me an exact timeline. Either way, Donovan has been dead longer than Gene.”

  “Yet both men exhibit the same exact markings and causes of death?”

  “Short answer, yes.”

  Shane dug his stubbed fingernails into his scalp. “I’d hate to hear your long answer.”

  “I could give it.”

  “No,” Shane barked. “I’m fine with what you’ve told me. Thanks for the info.”

  “Do you want me to call you on your cell if I find any anomalies?” Drummond asked.

  “Yeah. I still have no idea where I’ll be at any given point today.”

  “Will do. By the way, is Agent Bartholomew with you?”

  “No,” Shane drew the word out. “Why?”

  “I think I have a break in her case. Do you have a way to contact her?”

  “Maybe.”

  The crunch of gravel under rubber drifted through the open window. Shane twisted in his seat. An Eider police squad car rounded the corner of the building and parked haphazardly next to his truck. Through the tinted window, Shane made out Con’s form before his friend opened the door.

  “Doc, I’ve gotta go. I’ll let Agent Bartholomew know you want to talk with her.”

  “Got it.”

  Ending the call, Shane set his phone aside. Unlocking his stiff muscles took some work, but he managed to push past the aches and pains and climb out of his truck. He met Con as the detective rounded the tailgate.

  “Heard through the grapevine you’ve got another homicide,” the Irishman said.

  “Please tell me you don’t know who it is.”

  Con shook his head, hooking an arm over the side of the truck bed. “It’s why I’m here. The police chief decided I was a safe bet right now to have that discussion with you.”

  “Because he’s not on friendly terms with me since the election?”

  Con lifted a shoulder. Noncommittal answer. Yep, all the answer Shane needed.

  Word got around that the police chief let it slip to the wrong person that he wasn’t all that impressed with Shane’s performance as sheriff and someone more capable was needed. This coming the day before the election. Shane wasn’t the type to let something so trivial bother him, but when it came from a man who was supposed to be working alongside him as an ally, it burned. Normally he’d ignore it, but three days after his reinstatement as sheriff, an unexpected encounter with the chief at the courthouse led to an exchange of words and Shane pushing the man into a wall.

  “I regret nothing,” Shane muttered.

  “I’d expect nothing less from you.” Con sighed. “Doesn’t make this any easier.” He squinted at the department. “Is Agent Bartholomew here?”

  “She’s trying to wrap up her case and get back to Cedar Rapids. Why?”

  “Aw, no reason.” Con clapped Shane’s shoulder. “Now, about that homicide.”

  “Let’s not have this conversation out here.”

  They entered the building through the back and headed for Shane’s office. Halfway there, the front door opened, and she walked in.

  Shane came to a screeching halt, gaping as she bypassed the always vacant receptionist counter and paused long enough to catch sight of him.

  “Liza, did you forget something?”

  “Don’t for one second think I didn’t notice that, boyo,” Con whispered.

  “Can it,” Shane said.

  He gave Liza a pained smile as she joined them. She frowned for point zero two seconds at that.

  “I thought I wouldn’t need to return here, but it seems Gene Avery made certain I wouldn’t find even a crumb. I’m following up on his death and seeing where that leads. Also, I was hoping I could make contact with Roslin’s attorney, at least see if I could speak with the woman.”

  “Getting a hold of Pamela right now will be problematic,” Shane said.

  “Why, pray tell, is that?” Liza asked.

  He gestured at his office. Both Liza and Con stepped inside, with Shane bringing up the rear and closing them inside his sanctuary. None of them sat. Taking up his position behind his desk, Shane faced the two.

  “First, Pamela is in no state to be dealing with her duties as an attorney. I gave her a death notice a few hours ago.”

  “Saints alive,” Con muttered, “you’re not saying . . . ?”

  “The body recovered this a.m. was Donovan Frost.”

  Con followed up that statement with a colorful spiel in Gaelic.

  “It gets better,” Shane interrupted. “His death appears to be exactly like Gene Avery’s.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Liza said.

  Shaking his head, Shane picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers.

  “There’s more?” Liza asked.

  “Donovan was killed before Gene. Almost three days before.”

  Liza sank into the chair. “Unbelievable.”

  “Are you insinuating there’s a connection between the two men’s deaths?” Con asked.

  “Doc Drummond swears on the Bible that both men were bludgeoned to death. The size of the holes is nearly identical, which could mean the same weapon. He located bruising from the suspected electric prod on Donovan’s back, even through all the lividity and decomp.”

  “We have to find a connection to these two men,” Con said.

  “We don’t have to look far,” Liza said. “Frost’s wife is Roslin’s attorney.”

  “But for how long? If I’m reading it right, this popped up overnight when Roslin burned her home to the ground,” Shane said. “Besides, that doesn’t connect the two men. Donovan had nothing to do with the school, so there was no reason for Avery to run into him through that channel.”

  “We have to tear their lives apart.” Liza sighed. “There’s no way I’m going to make Montrose’s deadline now.”

  “You don’t have to stick around for all of that.”

  “Shane, I do. If there is any connection between them, then whoever killed them might have the evidence I need to prove Gene Avery is my Mr. Ripley. Far as I’m concerned, that takes priority over meeting some ungodly deadline.”

  And this is what it boiled down to for her: getting her man. Not that two people were dead. Th
is was why Shane took issue with the FBI. There was a callousness to the agents who came to his county. They didn’t care about the people who lived here, or the repercussions their visits left behind that he dealt with. McIntire County was his home, the good and the bad, and he wasn’t about to let Liza Bartholomew plow through here like a pissed off cow destroying fences. He worked hard to mend those fences.

  “Okay,” Con’s voice shattered the silence, “just so we’re on the same page here. Agent Bartholomew, would you explain exactly what it is that has brought you here?”

  She opened her mouth and then clicked it shut. Her features were a mix of indecision and stubbornness. Apparently it was one thing to tell Shane everything she could, but another when it came to revealing her true mission to someone else.

  But if she didn’t tell Con, he would. This subterfuge was pointless, considering the fact that Con had it mostly figured out.

  Her deep brown eyes landed on Shane and didn’t waver, as if she sensed his sudden shift in loyalties.

  When had his loyalties changed tracks? The safety and well-being of the people of McIntire County had always come first. It’s why he’d won this last hard-fought election. The public knew he was looking out for them, despite the gossips who talked just to hear their own voices.

  Agent Bartholomew, on the other hand, was only a temporary distraction. And, boy, how she had distracted him. Shane was a Grade A prime idiot. The ring burned against his skin, a reminder of what he’d lost and what he’d vowed. Cheyenne had been his everything; no woman could replace her.

  “You might as well tell him,” he said. “The sooner we get through it, the sooner we can figure this out.”

  Liza closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped, the weight seeming to drag her down. When she opened her eyes, they were focused on Con.

  An electrified zap burned across Shane’s chest. Stupid, stupid emotions.

  Gradually, she walked Con through her case, pausing to answer his pointed questions, until she was up to the point where she’d arrived in Eider yesterday only to learn that her potential suspect might be the one and same deceased Gene Avery.

  “That would explain the school board’s sudden panic. They were duped by a career conman,” Con said.

  “Speaking of the school board, the president came to see me,” Liza said as she rifled through her coat pocket, pulling out a business card. “Neil Lundy.”

  Shane whistled. “Now ain’t that something. Neil Lundy came to you?”

  Liza frowned. “Why is that such a big deal?”

  “Lundy thinks pretty highly of himself. If you want an audience with him, you typically make an appointment. The fact that he sought you out tells me he’s worried. Really worried.”

  “He should be,” Con said. “The entire board was hoodwinked, and Lundy’s the fall guy in this case if it gets out that Gene Avery was not a legit superintendent.”

  “The perfect Mr. Lundy will now be over the coals for the whole county to roast.” Shane shouldn’t feel giddy at the thought of that egotistical man being gutted and fileted like that, but sometimes karma was a bitch. “I have a feeling there will be a major switching of the guard in the next school board election.”

  “That explains Lundy’s advisement to me to keep this whole ordeal discreet,” Liza said.

  “Too late for that.” Con pointed at her. “I’ve already fielded a few questions from ‘concerned’ citizens. Seems some remember you from the last time you were here.”

  “I did warn him it was too late for discreet. He didn’t take that too well.”

  “We need to arrange a meeting with the entire board. Think we can pull them together early this evening without a battle?” Shane asked, Con specifically.

  “That’s being arranged as we speak,” Liza said.

  Both men frowned at her.

  “How? you ask with your faces.” She checked her watch. “I should be receiving confirmation that my warrant request has been approved and the paperwork will be here soon.”

  “Well, isn’t that interesting,” Shane said. “A warrant can be a real motivator.”

  “Especially with that lot.” Con slapped his thigh. “I’ve done my due diligence. Should get back to the department and debrief the chief before he starts calling. When you get the board together, tell me, and I’ll help with the interviews.”

  “Appreciate the assist.” Shane watched his friend leave the office. Once Con’s footsteps faded, Shane’s gaze swept back to Liza. “What’s next for you?”

  “I was hoping to have a lengthy chat with Dr. Drummond.”

  “That would be perfect, since he requested that I let you know he needs to talk with you. Seems he might have a break in your case.”

  Her features lit up, making her eyes spark. “Good.” She turned as if to leave, halted, and then faced him once more. “About Pamela and Roslin?”

  “Let me see what I can do. If Roslin’s willing, she could force Pamela to allow her an audience with you. Learning that her husband was dead set off Pamela something fierce, but she’s always been a lawyer first.”

  “Roslin is the only solid lead I have to Avery. My SAC is insistent I speak with her, and I tend to agree. Let me know as soon as you set something up.” She headed for the door.

  He fought the urge to let his gaze drink in the sight of her swaying hips, but it was a losing battle. He couldn’t do this. Damn it. They both had a job to do, and the moment she completed hers, she was gone.

  “Liza?” You damn fool!

  She paused outside the doorway and turned back to him. “Yes?”

  “What are you going to tell your SAC?”

  She seemed puzzled by his question.

  “The deadline she set. What are you going to tell her?”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “I’m fairly certain once I tell her I’ve got some compelling evidence that keeps me here, she’ll have to reconsider.”

  If her SAC did reconsider, it meant a few more encounters with Agent Bartholomew. That was good and bad. Good, because it gave him a chance to explore this inexplicable urge to be near her and to get to know her a bit more. Bad, because he shouldn’t want to be near her and get to know her more.

  If his past was any dire warning, satisfying his curiosity was never good for the county or his job status.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For six miles, a small gray-silver SUV had been tailing Liza. She hadn’t noticed it when she first left the sheriff’s office, but a few miles out she got an odd, creepy crawly feeling up the back of her neck that led to her glancing in the rearview mirror more often than not. It wasn’t following real close, like some drivers were apt to do, just hung back the recommended two car lengths. Yet with every turn she made, the SUV turned as well. She couldn’t see the driver, couldn’t get any details of who it might be. And the vehicle itself was simply an SUV, the same type of automobile any soccer mom or middle-aged professional man would drive.

  She shouldn’t be worried about a tail. It’s not like she was in some spy movie where every vehicle held a potential threat. This was Eider, Iowa, for God’s sake. But there was a killer out there. Someone had taken the lives of two men. That alone set her senses on high alert.

  In reality, she was seeing shadows where there were none.

  So, let’s test the theory.

  Instead of taking the street Siri suggested to get to the hospital, Liza drove past it and headed down a hill. The SUV stayed on the same path with her. After driving another half mile, she slowed to turn left onto a street heading toward the epicenter of downtown. Siri was having fits. Liza sped forward, glancing in the mirror. The SUV didn’t follow but continued straight, and she lost sight of it in a small grove of trees lining a yard.

  “Okay, so you were being paranoid. Good one, Liza. See what happens when you see things that aren’t there?”

  At the next stoplight, she headed left for a roundabout way back to the hospital. This was a beautiful side street that spiked off the town square.
Like sentinels on watch, black, ornate streetlights decorated with hanging flower baskets bursting in red, blue, and white flowers lined the sidewalk in front of shops and business. Art deco clashed with Victorian era, but all showed the buildings’ histories. Most of her views in Cedar Rapids were more modern buildings that were plain and boring to her eye. Maybe one of these shops would have that one spectacular rock she could take back to Quinn. Liza’s gaze swept across the mirror, and she stiffened.

  There it was. The same SUV.

  Or was it?

  “Damn it, Liza, knock it off. There could be fifty cars like that in this town.”

  Yeah, right.

  She slowed and took another side street, zipping past a three-story building that looked suspiciously like apartments. Her perceived tail followed.

  “Okay, maybe I’m not paranoid. Screw this.” She needed to get to the hospital, and messing around on the streets would only get her lost.

  If the person tailing her followed her right into the parking lot, she’d do the sensible thing and confront the little prick. Siri was recalibrating and happily announced that at the next street Liza should turn and she’d arrive at her destination. She drove the suggested distance and whipped into the hospital parking lot, all the while keeping an eye on the vehicle in her rearview mirror. Liza found a spot facing the street and parked.

  To her utter shock and relief, the gray car continued on its merry little way down the street and out of sight. All she was able to see of the driver through tinted windows was a shadowy form. Liza waited. Her body hummed; the nervous energy left a metallic taste in her mouth. Crap! She’d bit her cheek. Gently sucking the blood from the small cut, she watched.

  The car never returned. Liza sagged against her seat. Her muscles slowly unwound. She’d been tenser than she expected. This! This was what she hated about this job. She was always on alert, and her body was wearing down from the constant tension. “I’m so done with this.”

  Now that that little excursion was over, she had to get back to the job at hand. She’d keep her eyes peeled for the car when she came outside. Hopefully, whatever Dr. Drummond had for her was something she could report back to Montrose to get out of the unreasonable deadline and this town. Liza hadn’t experienced this much suspense—if she discounted the warehouse fire and going after Ripley—in the entirety of her career in the FBI. Eider, Iowa was one weird place.