Secrets in Four Corners

by Debra Webb

  She felt exactly like that…a suspect.

  Perhaps guilt had something to do with her defensiveness.

  Inside the store the woman behind the counter glanced up as the bell over the door jingled. Bree flashed the cashier a smile then turned to wait for Patrick, who still lingered in the parking lot. He had paused to survey the parking lot and highway beyond. He walked to the west end of the building and peered toward the turnoff to the Tribal Park. She remembered that he liked to get a feel for the vicinity where a crime had taken place. To form scenarios related to the crime. That obviously hadn’t changed.

  Frustrating the hell out of her was the fact that her gaze roamed the breadth of his shoulders and the height of his tall frame from the cowboy boots to the familiar hat before she could rein in the reaction to seeing him again. But what really burned her was the way her heart pounded a little harder just watching him move. How could the organ be so mutinous?

  This moment had been inevitable. She had contemplated that realization many times. They worked in the same county. It had only been a matter of time before the two of them ended up on a case together.

  And still she wasn’t ready for this.

  When he turned to enter the store, she shifted in the other direction and went in search of Rudy Johnson, the owner.

  “Good morning, Mr. Johnson.”

  “Good morning to you, Detective Hunter.” The spry old man hesitated in his inventory duties and shot her a wide smile.

  “How’s the family?” The instant the words left her lips she could have bitten off her tongue. The bell over the door jingled announcing Patrick’s entrance. Rudy would no doubt return the social gesture and ask about her son. Damn! She had to get her act together. The line she walked was precarious enough without tipping the balance unnecessarily.

  A wave of uncertainty washed over her. How could she possibly hope to keep this up? Was she making a mistake hiding the truth from Patrick? From Peter? She’d made that decision a long time ago. At a time when her emotions had been particularly raw and she had been terrified of the consequences of telling him he had a son.

  Too late to turn back now.

  “The wife’s arthritis is acting up,” Rudy said as he tucked the pencil behind his ear. “But that’s to be expected at our age.” The smile broadened to a grin and his eyes twinkled. “How’s Peter? I still owe him that trip to the cabin.”

  Patrick came to a stop right beside Bree as if the gods had deemed her guilty as charged and opted to torture her a little as a sneak preview of what was to come. This time the pounding in her chest had nothing to do with his nearness. “He’s doing great. We’ll have to get together soon and schedule that trip to your cabin.” Change the subject! “Unfortunately, I’m here this morning on police business. Sheriff Martinez and I need to ask you a few questions. It’ll only take a couple minutes.”

  Rudy looked from Bree to Patrick and back. Don’t say any more about Peter, she urged silently.

  “This about Burt Hayes?” Rudy placed his clipboard atop a row of canned goods and gave Bree his full attention. “He rushed back in here this morning to use the phone. The man was acting a mite strange. I asked him if there was trouble but he rushed outta here like the devil himself was on his heels.” Rudy raised a speculative eyebrow. “I figured there was trouble at one of the dwellings.”

  “Did Hayes mention any problem?” Patrick inquired before Bree could.

  Rudy shook his head. “Just asked to use the phone. Lizzy was using the one at the counter so I let him use the phone in the office.” He hitched his thumb toward the door in the back marked Employees Only. “We had a regular morning rush at the time, so I didn’t get to ask him what the problem was.”

  “Before eight this morning did you notice anyone else behaving strangely?” Bree ventured, unsure just how much Patrick had in mind sharing at this point. “Maybe a little nervous or in a hurry like Mr. Hayes?”

  Rudy folded his arms over his chest and rubbed his chin as he considered the question. “The usual Monday morning crowd came through. And they’re all always in a hurry.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand why working folks wait until Monday morning to fill up their gas tanks and then they complain because they’re running late.”

  “Did anyone stop in that you didn’t recognize?” Patrick asked. “Maybe someone in more of a hurry than the rest?”

  Rudy shrugged. “There’s always a few strangers passing through. Usually not that many early in the morning. No one at all that I noticed today. Just the regulars.”

  “If you could provide us with a list of the regulars who were in this morning that would be useful.” Patrick slid the request into the conversation, the maneuver slick as glass.

  Bree noted the mounting confusion on Rudy’s face. “I know that’s asking a lot, Mr. Johnson, but we…” she glanced at Patrick, he gave her no indication not to proceed “…discovered a body in the park this morning. We have reason to believe some aspect of the crime was carried out between seven and eight this morning. So anyone you or your regulars might have seen in the area could be a person of interest in the case.”

  Rudy squared his shoulders and lifted his chin as if ready to do battle. “The regulars who come through my store are good people. Not criminals.” The firm set of his jaw warned more so than his words that his hackles were up. “If any one of them had seen or heard anything I would know it.”

  “That may be,” Patrick cut in, his tone firmer this time, “but we’ll need that list all the same. Choosing not to provide the names constitutes obstruction of justice.”

  So much for congeniality. “Anything anyone may have seen could prove immensely helpful to our investigation,” Bree explained, hoping to head off a complete lockdown. The Ute people were a proud, stubborn lot.

  Despite having been raised here, Patrick apparently didn’t understand that as a white man his imposing tone and words could come across the wrong way when dealing with a Ute man.

  Rudy glared at Patrick a moment before turning his attention to Bree. “I’ll give you the list if it’s that important.”

  Patrick’s own hackles visibly reared. His jaw tightened and the rigid set of his shoulders announced this loudly.

  “Sheriff Martinez and I are working together,” Bree clarified. “Your cooperation with the both of us will make our job a lot easier.”

  Rudy gave a single curt nod.

  Bree pushed a smile into place, relieved. “Great. I’ll pick up the list later today, if that’s all right. I know you’re busy.”

  Another tight nod.

  “Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” Bree offered, understanding that the man’s continued cooperation depended a great deal on her keeping the lines of communication on a level that fostered mutual respect. As much as she hated to admit it, that was the very reason she would have no choice but to work directly with Patrick to some degree as long as they were a part of this investigation.

  These people knew and trusted her. She was one of them. Patrick represented those who looked down at the Ute people. Unfairly lumped them all in the same category. There was good and bad in all people. No one liked to be judged wrongly because of the actions of others.

  Patrick and Rudy exchanged one of those male half-nods that was barely civil.

  At the front of the store Lizzy O’Dell was braced against the counter, busily filing her nails. Bree asked her the same questions they’d asked Rudy. Lizzy had been too busy at the register, she claimed, to notice anything out of the ordinary. Bree thanked her as well and made a path toward the door.

  If she could get out of here without—

  “Say hello to Peter for me,” Rudy called after her.

  Bree managed a decent stab at a smile and assured the man she would. She was out the door and climbing into her vehicle two steps ahead of Patrick in hopes of moving on before any related questions could be posed.

  “Who’s Peter?”

  If she hadn’t known that it was physically impo
ssible for her heart to completely stop beating while she continued to breathe, Bree would have sworn that it had done just that.

  As if luck had opted to show mercy, her cell phone vibrated. Saved by her cell twice in one morning.

  “Excuse me.” She pulled the phone from her belt and checked the screen.

  Her sister. Tabitha.

  The heart she’d been certain had stalled rammed into her sternum.

  Bree didn’t give any excuses to her passenger. She shoved the door open and stepped away from the vehicle for privacy.

  “Hunter.” Old habits were hard to change. Though she’d known it was her sister calling she answered in cop mode.

  “Sis, I have to run some errands today. Do you need me to pick up Peter after school?”

  Bree glanced back at her vehicle. Patrick remained in the passenger seat. Though he stared straight ahead she knew better than to believe he wasn’t keeping tabs on her movements.

  “That would be great. Today’s going to be a long one.” Bree took a few more steps away from the vehicle. “I don’t have much time but we need to talk.”

  “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”

  Her sister knew her well. Another covert glance at her SUV to ensure Patrick was still seated inside with the windows up. Bree lowered her voice to scarcely more than a whisper. “Peter asked me about his father this morning. He wouldn’t let it go.”

  “I’ve been telling you for years that this conversation—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Bree interrupted. She didn’t need to hear this right now. Irritation gnawed at her. “I just don’t need any help from you and Layla making that happen sooner rather than later. He overheard something Layla said about his father being as bad as Jack.”

  The silence on the other end of the line told Bree that her sister realized the mistake.

  “Oh, Bree, I’m sorry. Layla was complaining about Patrick’s deputies singling out teenage drivers. She was off on a profiling tangent. She made that remark out of frustration. She didn’t mean it and certainly neither of us intended for Peter to overhear.”

  Bree closed her eyes and let out a weary breath. “It’s okay. Just tell Layla to be more careful. I can’t deal with that issue—” she snuck another look at the man in question “—not right now.”

  “Is something going on?”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Bree promised. Patrick would be growing impatient. “I have to get back to work. Take care of my boy for me, okay?”

  “You know I will. And Bree…”

  “Yeah.”

  “Be careful out there. Peter needs you. We all need you.”

  Bree promised Tabitha she would use caution and ended the call. Her family had worried about her since she’d decided to go into law enforcement, but lately Tabitha had worried a little extra. And it was Bree’s fault. She should never have told her sister about the other night. But she’d needed to tell someone.

  Bree had been getting those weird feelings…the ones that warned someone was watching her or following her. She would be certain she’d glimpsed someone in her peripheral vision, but she hadn’t actually caught anyone yet. It always turned out to be nothing. Then, night before last, she’d been certain someone followed her home. Maybe it was nothing. Coincidence, paranoia, whatever. Yet as a trained cop she knew better than to assume her instincts were completely off the mark.

  Ignoring danger, real or imagined, could cost a lot more than she wanted to pay.

  Like she’d told Tabitha, Bree didn’t have time to deal with that right now, either. She strode back to the SUV and climbed behind the wheel.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” she said to Patrick. She almost…almost stated out loud that she’d needed to make arrangements for her son. Damn. He was so much a part of her life talking about him was like breathing.

  “No problem.”

  She’d just started the vehicle and shifted into Reverse when he said, “So, who’s Peter?”

  THE KENNER COUNTY Crime Unit was housed on the top floor of the old city annex building on the outskirts of Kenner City. The building had been used as storage for retired files as long as Bree could remember. When the Bureau finally authorized a crime lab for the Four Corners area the third floor was the only space the city would forfeit. But that didn’t stop Callie MacBride and her team from carving out a pretty impressive reputation. Like the little engine that could.

  Bree was relieved to be joining the others for the briefing. The better part of six hours spent with Patrick Martinez had her emotions raw. They’d been to her office and to his. They’d stopped at every business within a ten-mile radius of the park entrance. And they’d picked up the list from Rudy Johnson. Bree recognized the majority of the names on the list. Chances were it would be a dead end.

  Busywork—that’s what they had been doing all day. With next to nothing to go on they’d started with the most elementary procedure: question anyone and everyone in the vicinity of the crime.

  Bree was certain that Patrick, as sheriff of Kenner County, had numerous other duties he could have been attending to. Any one of his deputies could have worked with her. But no, he’d stuck close to her all day.

  To ferret out information. She was certain. Why did he care what she’d been up to for the past eight years? Her life was none of his business. She’d told him so when he’d pressed the issue of “who’s Peter?” and “is that your husband?”

  Her nerves were shot.

  The entire time her sister’s voice had kept echoing in the back of her mind…You should come clean with both Peter and Patrick. This decision will come back to haunt you. Although Bree’s father had insisted it was her decision, her older sister had staunchly disagreed from the beginning.

  Bottom line, Bree couldn’t undo the past. She’d made her decision. There was no changing it now. Frustration expanded inside her. So far she’d seen no real reason to regret the decisions she’d made.

  Patrick Martinez’s nosiness definitely wasn’t a good reason.

  Inside the annex, Bree and Patrick took the stairs to the third floor. She could feel his gaze on her with every step she took. Or maybe it was her imagination. He’d been dissecting everything she’d done all day. Every word. Every move.

  Thank God this day was almost over.

  On the third floor, Bree stopped at the receptionist’s desk. She dredged up a smile. “We’re here for the briefing on the Grainger investigation.”

  “Detective Hunter?” The receptionist, Elizabeth Reddawn according to the nameplate on her desk, returned Bree’s smile.

  “That’s right.” Bree gestured to Patrick. “And Sheriff Martinez.”

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff.” Elizabeth’s smile widened. “We’ve set up a command center in the conference room down the hall,” she told Patrick. “You know, the one that used to be a storage room?”

  “I know the way,” Patrick confirmed. “Thanks, Elizabeth.”

  Bree should have realized that Patrick worked directly with the lab on a regular basis. He would know the personnel and his way around. Bree, on the other hand, usually got her feedback from the lab through the chain-of-command channels at TPD. She rarely had the opportunity to work directly with anyone at the lab, except, on the rare occasion, Callie MacBride.

  Though ten minutes early for the meeting, the conference-room-turned-command-center was crowded with what Bree suspected were FBI agents. She didn’t recognize any other local law enforcement personnel.

  Special Agent in Charge Jerry Ortiz turned to greet Patrick and Bree as they entered the room.

  “Patrick.” Ortiz shook his hand. “Detective Hunter, I presume.” He reached for Bree’s next.

  “Ortiz, this is Detective Sabrina Hunter,” Patrick said, making the formal introduction, “from Towaoc PD.”

  “I’m pleased to have you on our team, Detective Hunter,” Ortiz said with all the panache of a politician. To Patrick he said, “I decided to come in personally to handle…this.” He exhaled a heavy brea
th. “That’s the least I can do.”

  “Completely understandable,” Patrick confirmed.

  Bree had heard Ortiz’s name on a number of occasions, not to mention she’d seen him in the news on a regular basis. He was assigned to the Bureau field office in Durango.

  “Let’s take our seats,” Ortiz announced to the room at large. He stood behind the chair at the head of the conference table.

  Bree put some distance between Patrick and herself. She needed a breather. She settled into a chair next to Callie.

  When the room had settled, Ortiz made the necessary introductions. Some of those present Bree recognized from various homicide cases she’d worked. She’d rarely interacted with them, but she was familiar with the faces. Some had been at the crime scene that morning, like O’Shea, Fleming and Miguel Acevedo. Steven Griswold, an older gentleman who was the lab’s firearms expert, she hadn’t seen before. Olivia Perez and Jacob Webster. Bree had seen those two around town at lunch together more than once, but she’d never run into either one in the field. She wondered if they were a couple. No wedding rings that she could see, but a definite connection. Every shared glance screamed of that connection.

  Three of the field agents present Bree couldn’t recall having run into before. FBI agents Tom Ryan, Ben Parrish and Dylan Acevedo. According to Ortiz, Tom Ryan and Dylan Acevedo had flown straight here from their home offices upon hearing the news. That would explain why she didn’t recognize any of the three.

  Whoa! Dylan Acevedo looked so much like Miguel. Considering they shared the same last name, they had to be brothers.

  As if Agent Ortiz had read her mind, he said, “For those of you who don’t know, the Acevedo brothers are twins.” Ortiz gestured vaguely. “I noted the confusion on some faces so I thought I’d better clear that up before we get started.”

  Bree hoped she wasn’t the only one who’d been confused. Across the table Patrick glanced at her. Oh yeah, she was the only one. Great.

  “We all know why we’re here,” Ortiz said somberly. “Special Agent Julie Grainger will be sorely missed. There are no adequate words to articulate how we all feel about this loss. But anger and regret won’t help Agent Grainger and it won’t assist us in what we have to do. There is one final thing we can do to support our fallen colleague and that is to ensure her murderer is brought to justice in the speediest possible manner. With that in mind, I’d like to share what I can with all those present regarding her latest case.