Secrets in Four Corners

by Debra Webb

  Last night he’d dreamed of making love with her. The way they used to, with no inhibitions and with utter trust. At least until those last few weeks. Then the animosity had overridden everything else.

  As much as he wanted to stay and learn all he could about her life the past eight years, he had a three o’clock appointment. They’d discussed what little they could do on the Grainger case until the next briefing or until they picked up an additional lead. Trawling for info was about the extent of it. The truth was, sitting here looking at her was pure torture. He needed distance. His upcoming appointment was a blessing.

  Before he could voice his need to get back to the office, Bree pushed her coffee cup aside. They’d both declined dessert but no one could pass on his mother’s coffee. Her own special blend drew folks from far and wide for a cup of Nora’s Good Morning Coffee.

  “I have a staff meeting. I need to get back.” She glanced at the long counter lined with customers, then toward the kitchen doors. “I should get my check and…go.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Patrick finished off his coffee, then set his cup aside. “You know Nora’s not going to let you pay.”

  Bree scooted from the booth. “Thank her for me, would you?”

  The kitchen’s swinging doors flew open and Nora Martinez scurried out. Patrick glanced at Bree as he got to his feet. “I guess we’ll both get the chance to thank her.”

  Nora urged Bree to come again soon, then hugged her twice. Clearly Patrick wasn’t the only one who still had feelings for Bree.

  Crossing the dining room, Patrick hesitated. Ben Parrish was deep in conversation with a woman. Patrick studied his body language a moment. The two seemed to be arguing or at the very least having an intense exchange. The wavy red hair triggered recognition. Ava Wright, one of the forensic techs at the crime lab. Interesting. The idea that Parrish was currently a person of interest in the Grainger investigation made the fact that the two were having such a tense lunch only a step or two away from suspicious.

  “Isn’t that Agent Parrish?” Bree asked.

  “It is.” Patrick opted not to jump to conclusions. He cut through the tables and pushed out the door.

  “I’ll see you at the briefing tomorrow,” Bree said, already moving away from him.

  “Just one more thing.” He should have done this first. She turned back to him, those wide brown eyes expectant. He rotated his hat in his hands. “I want to apologize again for last night. Like I said, that won’t happen again. I don’t see why we can’t be friends despite the past. Who knows? This may not be the only time we end up working together. It’s best that we do this the right way.” Okay. Whew. He’d gotten the entire speech out without screwing up.

  Bree studied him for two beats, just long enough for him to start to sweat. “You’re right. Friends is…good. We should work at that.”

  Patrick’s chest expanded with a deep, relieved breath. “Good.”

  She glanced at her borrowed SUV. “Gotta go.”

  Patrick settled his hat into place. “Keep me posted on this stalker business,” he urged.

  She didn’t make any promises. He watched as she moved toward the driver’s-side door of an SUV marked with the Towaoc PD logo.

  Patrick didn’t get into his SUV until he’d watched her drive away. His instincts were humming. What was she not telling him? Was there more to this stalker business than she’d let on?

  He didn’t like the idea that she was taking this so cavalierly. The warning left on her SUV was clear and to the point.

  Someone was obviously watching her.

  Someone who wanted to scare her…or worse.

  AFTER HER STAFF MEETING Bree headed for the parking lot. She called Tabitha as she climbed into the truck to let her know she would be picking up her son from school. Once this investigation heated up, who knew when she’d have the opportunity to pick him up again.

  The press was already badgering anyone they discovered was involved with the investigation. Ortiz planned to hold a news conference after the briefing tomorrow to ease the speculation.

  The hounding for information would only get worse after that.

  “How did your day go, son?” she asked Peter as he climbed in.

  He dropped his backpack onto the floorboard and stretched his safety belt into place. “It wasn’t so good.” Those big blue eyes, heavy with frustration, peered up at her. “Robby Benson told me my daddy must be dead since I’ve never seen him. Is that true, Mommy? Is my daddy dead?”

  Bree slipped her foot from the brake to the accelerator and rolled out of the pickup lane. Why did kids have to be so cruel?

  Why did adults have to lie?

  She was no better than Robby Benson. She couldn’t keep avoiding the subject and she refused to outright lie to her son about his father. He’d never asked where he was or who he was. He’d never asked much of anything, until recently. Turning seven a couple of months ago had changed everything. “Your daddy doesn’t live with us” didn’t cut it anymore.

  “No, baby, your father is not dead.” Did she say he lived far away…that he was too busy? That had worked in the past.

  Peter pondered that answer for a moment. Bree braced for what no doubt came next.

  “Then why doesn’t he ever come to see me? Robby’s daddy just bought him the coolest bike ever. Has my daddy ever bought me anything?”

  And so it began in earnest.

  Just how was she going to do this? She’d already chosen a path…one that was about to bite her in the butt. “Well, sweetie, it’s—”

  A dark sedan with equally dark windows made the next turn Bree executed. Her instincts went immediately on point. “Hold on a minute, son.”

  Okay, so that was just one turn…that she’d noted, anyway. No need to get paranoid just yet. She made another turn, this one unnecessary, just to see if the sedan would follow.

  That was an affirmative. Her pulse rate jumped into overdrive.

  She glanced at her son. Couldn’t risk going cowboy and confronting the driver of the vehicle. If she made any overt moves of aggression her son’s life could be put in danger.

  The car suddenly lurched forward, got as close to her rear bumper as possible without nudging her.

  Her breath caught.

  She was barely out of town. She could turn around.

  “Lean back hard against your seat, baby.” God, if this guy hit her…

  The car jerked left, roared forward. She eased closer to the side of the road, let off the accelerator.

  The sedan rocketed past her. She squinted, tried to see the license plate but the car was too fast and she was too rattled. If her son hadn’t been in the vehicle with her she would have given pursuit.

  She could call it in, but she didn’t have a handle on the make and model or the license plate number.

  But she and Peter were okay and that was what mattered.

  Relief struck with such force that her fingers barely managed to keep a grip on the steering wheel as she picked up speed once more.

  Calm down. It was over now.

  Now she knew one thing for sure. This wasn’t going away and it was no teenage prank.

  This latest incident was no coincidence. And it damned sure wasn’t her imagination.

  Someone was following her…watching her.

  He wasn’t going to stop until he’d accomplished his goal.

  To scare her?

  Or to kill her?

  Chapter Six

  Bree arrived at the annex building for the Wednesday afternoon briefing with five minutes to spare. She’d gotten through last night without more questions from her son. Sheer luck. One of his friends from school had needed to sleep over since his mother had gone into labor with her second child.

  Bree understood that her luck wouldn’t hold out.

  The one question Peter had asked was when would he have a little brother or sister.

  Now there was a question she sure couldn’t answer.

  She sat
in the borrowed TPD SUV and wondered for the umpteenth time what she was going to do. Last night’s tossing and turning had left her sleep deprived and frustrated with herself. And her dreams. She’d dreamed of Patrick…and the way things used to be. Before all the tension and yelling.

  “Enough.” She had to focus on this case. Dealing with her personal life would just have to come later. If she were really lucky, a lot later.

  Now her stalker…that was something she might just have to deal with sooner than later.

  He—assuming it was a he—knew where she lived. Where her son went to school. She’d spoken to Peter’s teacher last night and warned her that there was a potential problem. Bree had also spoken with her chief. Two of her colleagues had spent the morning going over her case files for the past couple of years. They’d found nothing that appeared motive enough to prompt retribution.

  Until she had more to go on she’d just have to wait it out. That was the thing with stalkers. There was nothing the victim could do until the perp was caught in the act of wrongdoing or had left evidence of his illegal act. There was certainly nothing to be done when the stalker’s identity was unknown.

  Unfortunately Bree was trapped in that freaky zone where she could do nothing but be aware and be patient. Hope for the best and brace for the worst.

  A car parked a couple of spaces over and Ortiz emerged. When he’d gone inside she climbed out and headed that way as well. She didn’t see Patrick’s SUV. Maybe he was hung up with something else. Had to be something big for him to miss this briefing. He would likely send one of his deputies to cover for him.

  Bree took the stairs to the third floor, waved in greeting to the receptionist and for identification purposes, then moved on to the command center. The room was crowded with federal agents already.

  Bree took the only available seat and smiled when Callie MacBride looked her way. Callie’s return smile was weary. She wore that strained look again. The one that said this case was getting to her. Bree wondered again if she and the victim had been particularly close. There was definitely some aspect of this investigation that was getting to her on a level she couldn’t contain. Murder was bad any way you looked at it, but Bree had seen the lady in action before and Callie was as tough as nails. This wasn’t her typical reaction.

  The scrape of a chair being dragged up next to her drew her attention back to the here and now. Patrick settled into the seat.

  Bree’s heart reacted instantly with a thump then a stumble. She looked away. Drew in a deep breath.

  As if her racing heart wasn’t bad enough, her body temperature climbed a few degrees.

  Maybe if she hadn’t deprived herself of male company for the past eighteen months she wouldn’t be so needy.

  That had to be the explanation for her reactions to his presence. That or her body was mistaking fear for desire.

  She wasn’t sure which was worse, being scared to death he would discover her secret or harboring forbidden desire for the man with whom she had a rocky past. Either one was treacherous territory.

  “You okay?” Patrick asked for her ears only. The sincere concern in his eyes drew her like a magnet. He’d always been able to do that. To make her want him with just a look.

  Bree wished Ortiz would call the briefing to order. Most of the agents were still milling around, talking among themselves…except for Callie and Ben Parrish. Both had already taken their seats and appeared lost in their own thoughts.

  “I’m fine.” Bree pulled her notepad from her jacket pocket and placed it on the table in preparation for the start of the briefing. Mainly she did it to prevent having to meet Patrick’s gaze again. That didn’t stop him from watching her. She could feel his eyes probing her, looking for the crack that would let him in.

  “Any more trouble with whoever sent you that warning?” He pulled his chair an inch or two closer.

  Her pulse raced.

  Her first instinct was to tell him no. But he would read the lie in her posture and on her face. He was too good at reading body language to miss the slightest hint of deception.

  “There was a car yesterday,” she began, but got distracted by Elizabeth Reddawn hovering at the door. She waved to someone in the room, a large brown envelope in her hand.

  Bree scanned the crowd, which was still caught up in conversation. Ben Parrish pointed to his chest and the receptionist nodded. He pushed back his chair and moved wide around the other agents to reach the door. Elizabeth passed him the envelope and hurried back to the lobby to man her desk.

  Parrish stared at the envelope for a long moment, glanced back at the other agents, then rushed into the corridor.

  “Wonder what that was about?” Patrick whispered to her.

  She shivered, hoped like hell he didn’t see it. “Don’t know.”

  “I spoke to Ortiz earlier today,” Patrick said quietly. “He explained that Parrish, Ryan, Dylan Acevedo and Grainger all attended the Bureau academy together. They’ve been close friends ever since, despite being assigned to different field offices.” Patrick surveyed the assembled group. “There are a lot of intense emotions tangled up in this bunch.”

  That cleared up a number of questions for Bree. In her experience with federal agents, rigid professionalism were the buzzwords. But this case was, as she suspected, deeply personal.

  “You were saying something about a car?” Patrick asked.

  Bree had hoped he’d forgotten about that. “I picked up…” Bree froze. She almost said she’d picked her son up from school. This was the second time she’d had a close call like this. She had to pull it together. “I picked up milk on my way home yesterday afternoon.” That was true. She had stopped at the Stop and Go. “Anyway, a dark sedan, one with heavily tinted windows, roared up behind me and stayed on my bumper for a bit before barreling around me. It might not have been related.” She thought about those moments when she feared the sedan would ram the SUV she was driving. “It felt like an intimidation tactic.” She shrugged. “But I was in the TPD vehicle. It could have been someone who just doesn’t like cops.”

  “Bree.”

  She didn’t want to look at him. It was easier to watch the other folks in the room.

  “Bree,” he said more firmly.

  Reluctantly, she met his gaze.

  “You have to take this situation seriously. Talk to your chief.”

  “I already have.” God, she needed a distraction here. Anything to move the moment beyond this discussion.

  On cue, and much to her relief, Ben Parrish reentered the room. He no longer clutched the envelope the receptionist had given him but judging by the grim expression he wore, whatever had been in that envelope was not good news.

  Like her, Patrick watched Parrish take his seat. Bree wished she could read his mind. Obviously he was brutally torn. Was there something he’d done that made him feel somehow responsible for Grainger’s death? Bree still didn’t believe he was the murderer. She doubted anyone in this room really believed that. But Parrish felt guilty about something. That much was apparent.

  “What did your chief say?” Patrick wanted to know.

  She didn’t want to talk about this with him. She knew to be aware. For now, that was all she could do. Thankfully, before she was forced to respond, Ortiz called the room to order.

  Ortiz briefly reviewed their findings thus far, which were pretty much nil. No match had been found for the ligature pattern on the victim’s throat. However, the coroner had determined that the item used to strangle Agent Grainger was metal. Silver. The unknown subject, perpetrator in regular cop speak, was suspected to be male due to the depth of the marks. Massive strength had been utilized.

  Bree’s chest tightened at the idea that Agent Grainger, although highly trained, hadn’t had a chance against such raw brawn.

  Acevedo pushed away from the table and walked over to the only window in the room to stare at the mountains in the distance. Ryan exchanged a tense look with Parrish. Ortiz paused only a moment, probab
ly to ensure another physical confrontation wasn’t going to break out, before continuing the briefing.

  While Ortiz reviewed the details he intended to pass along to the press, Bree watched the people in the room. Acevedo lingered at the window and Parrish remained at the table with his head hung as if in defeat. More tension-filled glances were exchanged, these between Ryan and Callie.

  Bree wondered if there was something far more personal than friendship between those two. Then again, she could be reading too much into the turbulent emotions of those involved in this investigation.

  Acevedo returned to his seat and he and Ryan spoke quietly. Ryan appeared to be attempting to persuade the other agent to stay calm. Parrish cut a look at his two friends then dropped his head once more.

  Again, Bree couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Yes, he’d found the body. Yes, he was male and clearly capable of the necessary strength to strangle the victim in the manner the coroner described. But why not make a run for it? Why keep coming back to face this hostility?

  It couldn’t be as simple as him being the killer.

  Agent Tom Ryan passed out copies of a recent photo of Julie Grainger to all involved with the investigation. Ortiz suggested that local law enforcement continue to prod their contacts. The Bureau remained focused on the Del Gardo connection. Since there was no evidence to indicate otherwise, and likely for other reasons not shared, they were convinced at this point Del Gardo or someone in his organization had something to do with her murder. As he reiterated this conclusion, Ryan and Acevedo stared pointedly at Parrish.

  Did his fellow agents believe Parrish was somehow involved with Del Gardo or his activities? If so, no one was saying as much out loud. At least not with Bree and Patrick present.

  That would make Parrish a traitor…whether he was a killer or not.

  Ortiz had just dismissed the meeting when Bree’s cell phone vibrated. She checked the screen. Officer Cyrus. Bree quickly stepped into the corridor to take the call. Maybe he had found something that would determine who was stalking her.