She glanced out the passenger window. “I’m not so sure I agree with Jack sending us to see Holt by ourselves.” What she was really thinking she wouldn’t verbalize: Jack didn’t seem like his old self. Yes, he was focused, but there was something about him that was a little off. It was hard to place a finger on it. He wasn’t handling the case the way he normally did—his eyes kept glazing over, and he’d expressed no sympathy when the lieutenant told them that Detective Hawkins had a family matter come up. He wasn’t someone who wore his emotions on his sleeve, but she would’ve thought he’d have a bit more compassion. Especially after losing his mother not long ago.
“We’re just going in friendly, getting a feel for this guy.” Zach’s words offered reassurance, but she wasn’t buying it.
“If this guy is guilty, he’s going to think we’re on to him. And then who knows how far he’ll go to protect his secret. We should have spoken up; it might have been better to bring backup.”
Zach looked over at her and tilted his head. “Yeah, and that would have gotten us far.”
She sighed. “You’re right.”
“Of course, I am. I’m a genius.”
“And so modest.” She smiled at him, but he’d gone back to watching the road.
A few minutes later, they were pulling in front of Holt’s house, a small bungalow in a modest neighborhood. There was a decades-old Nissan in the drive, but the body appeared to be in good shape considering its age.
The front screen door slammed open, and a woman came running out. Holt was behind her, waving his arm in the air and yelling, “Get your fucking ass off my property.”
Paige looked over at Zach. “Wow, good timing for us.” Sarcasm dripped off every word as she jumped out of the SUV.
“You piece of shit!” the woman screamed. She had two armfuls of clothing and was trying to balance her load, but with her erratic movements, she wasn’t doing a very good job. A pair of pants was the first thing to fall to the lawn. Next, a shirt. Then underwear, shorts, pajamas, until her arms were empty and she was standing there crying.
“Hey,” Paige said to her, “it’s going to be all right.” A stupid sentiment, really, when Paige had no idea what they’d walked in on, but then again, it couldn’t get much worse from the look of it.
“Get out of here!” The man was at the door, and now he seemed to be directing his words to all three of them.
Zach hurried over to him while Paige did her best to split her attention between the woman and Zach. Emotions were running high, and domestic calls were among the most dangerous.
The woman dropped to the grass, openly bawling now. Any potential threat didn’t seem to be with her, but rather Holt, who was waving his arms and talking loudly.
“Who are you?” he growled.
“The FBI,” Zach responded.
Holt’s voice raised in volume as he said, “Get off my property.”
Paige put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Stay right here. Okay?”
She nodded. “There’s nowhere for me to go.”
Paige looked at her and quickly assessed her. Her eyes weren’t dilated, and she didn’t smell of alcohol. She didn’t appear to have been struck, but wounds could have been covered. “Did he hit you?”
“No.”
“All right. What’s your name?” she asked, though she really wanted to get to Zach.
“Stephanie.”
“I’m Paige. I’ll be right back.”
“Whatever.”
Paige hurried up to the door where Holt was still worked up. “We need you to calm down,” she said.
“Don’t you be telling me to calm down, ho.”
It took a lot to summon up control and not immediately slap cuffs on the guy, but she was reined in by Zach’s earlier words: We’re just going in friendly, getting a feel for this guy.
“We just came here to talk.” Paige glanced past Holt into the house. “It has nothing to do with anything that just happened.”
Like hell it doesn’t. His first impression, combined with their preconceived notions about him, weren’t working in the man’s favor. It would take a lot of rage to skin and cut up a body, and Holt definitely had a temper. While Stephanie had claimed he hadn’t hit her, his attitude made Paige question whether she had told the truth.
Holt eyed her with steely intensity, but she held her ground.
“We just want to talk,” she repeated.
Holt glanced at Zach. “Fine.”
Zach took a step inside, and Holt yelled at Stephanie again. “Get off my property!”
“Go to hell!” Stephanie yelled back amid garbled sobs.
Holt went into his house, and Zach and Paige followed. She wasn’t at ease with this guy and kept her hand near her service weapon so it was readily accessible. No doubt Zach would be doing the same.
“Oh, that woman.” In his anger, Holt was heaving for breath.
They waited a few minutes for him to settle down, and just when Paige thought he’d cooled off, he walked toward the front door. “Is she still out there?”
Zach put his hand up, and Holt stopped.
“It doesn’t matter,” Zach stated calmly. “You’re with us right now.”
“And who are you again?”
“We’re with the FBI,” Zach said.
“No shit.” Holt let his gaze go from Zach to Paige. “What do you want with me?”
“You used to work at Blue Heron Plantation?” Paige asked.
“Yeah, what’s that matter? I’ve got a better job now.”
“And what’s that?” she asked, letting him tell her.
“I work at the cement factory.” Holt clenched his teeth. “What’s this about?”
“Why did you leave the plantation?” Zach asked.
“I told you. I got a better job.”
“Is that the only reason?” Paige pressed.
“Ah, no, and I’m guessing you’ve heard the story. Although, it’s probably been entirely twisted. Shane has a way of blowing things up.”
Paige angled her head. “What do you think he told us?”
“The guy thinks I’m a psychopath. I was using a building on his property for gutting fish I caught in the river.”
Paige scanned his eyes, looking for a flicker in his gaze, any tell that he was lying.
“Why were you gutting fish at night?” Zach asked, not a hint of suspicion in his voice. He was good at putting people at ease.
“It was quiet. I love peace and quiet. But I never get it.” Holt waved his arm toward the front of the house, alluding to the woman on his front lawn.
“Wives can get a little much,” Zach said, and it almost had Paige turning to face him. After all, what would Zach know about marriage? And Jesse Holt’s file indicated that he was single.
“Nah, she’s not my wife. She’s a ho.”
And there was that lovely word again…
“She’s a girlfriend, then,” Zach stated.
“Was. She slept with an old boyfriend and she expects me to just be all right with it. Unbelievable.” Holt shook his head.
“How long have you been together?” Zach was running with the questions, and Holt finally seemed to be opening up.
“Long enough. About a year.”
“Living together?”
“Kind of… Not officially. She’s still got an apart—”
Police sirens interrupted his words. And they were coming closer…
It seemed that someone had called the cops.
-
Chapter 10
IT WASN’T LONG AFTER WE left Darla’s that Jack called it a day. Darla must have been enough to push him over the edge, too. But it was after nine by the time we’d dropped off Stanley’s hair to the lab and checked into the hotel that would be our home away from home until we sol
ved this case.
We got a hold of Paige and Zach and they were having their own “fun” at Jesse Holt’s. Maybe Darla was tamer than a domestic call, by comparison… Maybe.
“Check in and then meet me down in the restaurant in twenty,” Jack told me.
I adjusted my bag’s strap on my shoulder. “You got it.”
There was something in both his tone and his eyes that told me the workday wasn’t really over, but then again, it was hard to fully turn off an investigation. Short of lights-out, any waking hour was open for profiling.
I dropped off my bag in my room and came back down to find Jack sitting alone at a table for four nursing a martini. Jack and I might spend a lot of time together during an investigation, but it was hard getting a personal conversation moving with him.
I slipped into the chair across from him. “No Paige and Zach yet?”
“Paige called. They’ll be here soon.”
I bobbed my head.
A smiling waitress came to the table. “Hello. Welcome.”
A redundant greeting…
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked.
I glanced at Jack’s martini, and for a moment, I was tempted to indulge but decided against it. “No thanks.”
“All right, then. Just holler if you need me,” she said.
I picked up the menu on the table in front of me. Jack’s remained beside his arm, which was leaning on the table, seemingly untouched. Of course, it was entirely possible he’d looked at it before I had gotten there and already knew what he wanted.
At least the place offered healthy options. The last thing I needed was something deep-fried sitting in my gut.
“I see them, thanks.” It was Paige’s voice, and she was talking to the hostess while pointing our way.
The hostess led Paige and Zach to the table. Paige looked like she’d had better days. The red hair that normally fell in soft curls was frizzy around her forehead, and her tired eyes promised a story.
I laughed. “Had a live one?”
“Glad you think it’s funny, Brandon.” She narrowed her eyes at me as she sat down on my left. Zach took a seat, too.
“What are your thoughts on Jesse Holt?” Jack’s tone was all business as he looked at Paige.
She glanced at Zach. “He has a temper. Local PD took him in for disturbing the peace.”
“When you said there was a domestic issue I assumed he’d hit someone,” I said.
“Nope.” She flagged down a waitress and ordered a Reuben and a beer.
The rest of us ordered, too. And surprisingly, the conversation after that wasn’t about the investigation.
By the time we were finished with our meals, we were ready to go our separate ways.
The waitress returned with the check. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said.
Oh shit! I had forgotten all about canceling my hotel and restaurant reservations. More importantly, I hadn’t called Becky to let her know I’d gone out of town for a case.
I stood up, tossing my napkin on the table. “If that’s everything, Jack, I’m going to head up to my room.”
He dipped his head and lifted his hand. “Tomorrow morning, down here at seven.”
Seven? Had I heard him right? That was sleeping in for Jack. Normally, he was up before the sun and had us up with him.
I nodded. “I’ll be here.”
I hurried in the direction of the elevators and was happy to find one was already on the ground floor. The doors opened the second I pressed the button to go up. I pulled out my cell phone. Missed calls. Voice mails. The caller ID for both showed Becky’s name.
I silently cursed Jack because he was the reason I missed the calls in the first place. His rule about limiting personal calls when we were on a case had me setting up a call profile that shuffled personal numbers directly to voice mail. Becky was on that list, along with my parents. Having the calls routed saved me the grief that would come otherwise, especially if the phone started ringing in the middle of an interview or when we were following a lead. I changed the call profile setting now, though, seeing as I was in my hotel room and the work day was technically over.
I sat on the edge of the bed. I’d come up to my room with the intention of calling Becky, but it was rather late—already midnight.
A text message will be fine, I reasoned, but I wasn’t sure if I should check the messages first or go in blind. I opted to listen to what she had to say and dialed my voice mail.
“You have three new messages. To hear your first—”
I pushed the appropriate button.
“Hey, this is Becky. You told me to keep tonight clear and I did, but I haven’t heard from you. Give me a call.”
The message had been left at ten that morning. I would have been on the government jet at that time.
“Next new message…”
“It’s me again. You must be busy, but I’d like to know what we’re doing tonight.” Her voice contained a trace of irritation.
That one had been left at three in the afternoon.
I clicked “delete” and listened to the final voice mail.
“Brandon, it’s seven o’clock. Where are you? I’ve left two messages for you. I’m all for surprises, but I’d also really like it if you’d return my calls.”
I hung up and paced the room, wondering if I should just call. But she had sounded pissed. If I texted, I might be able to put off the confrontation I was certain was going to happen. She might not even see my message until morning when I’d have personal calls forwarding again.
Yes, I’d text.
I’d just hit “send” and placed my phone on the nightstand when it rang.
The caller ID said it was Becky.
Uh-oh…
It was probably best to get right to an apology.
“Becky, I’m sorry,” I answered. I’d never claimed to be the best boyfriend in the world. I hadn’t been any good at being a husband, but regardless guilt snaked through me for disappearing on Becky on Valentine’s Day.
“Where are you?” she asked, her voice tight.
She must have figured out that I was away on a case. “Savannah, Georgia. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure you won’t be back in time to celebrate tonight,” she fired back. “You know, seeing as the night is pretty much over.”
“We got called away quickly. We left first thing this morning.” As soon as that last sentence came out, I could have slapped myself. I’d chalk up the disclosure to my being exhausted.
“First thing this morning? And you couldn’t find two minutes to give me a heads-up? Instead, you left me hanging. You didn’t bother to return my calls.”
I could feel the heat of her anger through the phone line, and with the speed at which she fired off her words, they may as well have been live ammo. But I wasn’t going to take the hit.
“You know what I do for a living,” I said through clenched teeth. “You also know that I can be on a jet at a moment’s not—”
“That is not the point.”
“It is, actually.”
“You had all day to call.”
“You can’t expect me to push aside my job for you.” I pinched my eyes shut. Speaking of live ammo, I’d just pulled the trigger myself. “I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, no, I think you did.” She sounded smug, distant, hurt. “This relationship isn’t your top priority, a fact that you remind me of all the time. You’re not ready for anything serious. You’re not ready to commit. And I’ve been fine with that, Brandon. God knows, I’m not ready for wedding bells, either, but after about eight months, I’d at least expect you to be someone I can rely on.”
“You’re not being fair,” I said.
“I’m not being fair?” She was bordering on hysteria.
And I was speechless. I had, in fact, responded to her message. I’d explained what had happened and where I was. What else did she want from me?
“I think we should call this for what it is, Brandon.”
“This what?” I snapped back, arrogant, hotheaded.
“Unbelievable. We’re over.” She hung up, the tone of the dead line drilling in my head.
I gripped my phone and stared at the wall. Now would be a good time to punch something.
Since I clearly wasn’t going to sleep, maybe I’d just hit the hotel gym. If I was lucky they’d have some punching bags for me to jab at and roundhouse kick.
-
Chapter 11
THE CLOCK ON THE WALL said it was eight o’clock, and we were at the precinct. And I could barely keep my eyes open. I’m not sure why I had bothered trying to sleep last night. It wasn’t the case keeping me up but how the conversation had ended with Becky, how our “arrangement” had ended. Maybe I cared about her more than I’d realized. Things between us had been simple and unassuming with no strings attached. But there was some reliability to it—or at least there had been.
I’d given up on sleep by five and hit the hotel gym again. They didn’t have punching bags, but I got my heart rate up and rode a cardio high. Working out normally invigorated me almost immediately, but it hadn’t had that effect today. I refused to give any real consideration to the fact that I might have a broken heart. Besides, if it had been broken, I’d know because I’d been there, done that. My ex-wife had decided to end our marriage over the phone, for God’s sake. She hadn’t even had the decency to tell me to my face that our marriage wasn’t working for her anymore. There were still days the bitterness from that dissolution sank in, but I was working through it. It was what left me in no hurry to make any kind of commitment again. But maybe this wasn’t about me; maybe it was the job. It seemed to be the common denominator in all my failed romances.
My wife had suffered emotional issues with losing the baby, but in the end, I really think it had been my job with the FBI that had sent her over the edge. My job had been the reason a psychotic serial killer had set their sights on her during the course of my first investigation.
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