Truth Be Told (Rogue Justice Novella Book 2)

by Kendra Elliot

  “I hope you can make it. Who do you work for?”

  As the front door of the B&B opened, Dawn looked past Stevie and a feline quality entered her eyes. The businesswoman had been replaced by a siren.

  Zane.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Stevie confirmed her deduction as her wet husband wiped his feet on the doormat. Good luck, Dawn.

  Dawn projected her voice past Stevie. “I don’t suppose you’ve brought Wi-Fi with you, Officer?”

  Zane sat his boots next to Stevie’s, joined the group, and shook Dawn’s hand. “’Fraid not. I’m Chief Duncan. Anything I can help you with besides the Internet?”

  “Duncan . . .” Dawn’s gaze went to the cloth tape on Stevie’s coat that stated her new married last name. Within a tenth of a second, she took in the wedding rings and met Stevie’s calm eyes. The siren vanished.

  “I don’t think so,” Dawn answered politely. “I understand I’m stuck in your tiny town until the river goes down?”

  “Looks that way. As soon as one of the bridges is clear, I’ll get an engineer from the county to check it out, and then we’ll open it up.” He glanced at her boots. “Is that your Escalade in the parking lot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Glad to see you’ve got four-wheel drive. You might need it.”

  “I heard you had a shooting in town last night. Is it safe around here?”

  Stevie narrowed her brows. The gossip train had already reached the tourists.

  “The shooters were caught,” answered Zane in his police-chief voice. “But I always encourage people to lock their doors and be aware of their surroundings.”

  He didn’t mention that morning’s shooting.

  “What happened? Someone said a child was involved,” Dawn pressed. “Is he okay?”

  “The child wasn’t injured.”

  The hair rose on the back of Stevie’s neck. Dawn appeared too interested for an out-of-towner. “Who’d you say you work for again?” she asked.

  The woman’s gaze cooled. “I didn’t say. I don’t work for anyone; I’m a business owner.”

  “Always best to be the boss,” chimed in Miss Penny as she reappeared. She handed Stevie a piece of paper with the missing man’s e-mail. “Can I get you some coffee to go, Officers?”

  Stevie and Zane declined and said their goodbyes.

  Outside, Zane led her around to the parking lot and pointed at a new white Escalade with all the bells and whistles. “See the parking sticker? I noticed it on the way in. Of course, the vehicle is the type that’s hard to miss around here.”

  Stevie squinted to read the sticker. “Defendicon. What’s that?”

  “They make well-regarded equipment for the police and military. Remember the guy they caught last night for originally kidnapping Liam, Terry Reece? It’s similar to his company, Knight Products, but Knight Products is a lot bigger.”

  Shock rocketed through her nerves. “It can’t be a coincidence. Two manufacturers of protective gear in town? And she’s the owner of Defendicon?”

  “So she says,” answered Zane. “But I’m with you that it’s unlikely to be coincidental. I found it odd that she didn’t tell us the name of her company. If I were the owner of a huge corporation like that, I’d be dropping the name in every conversation.”

  “I wonder what Terry Reece could tell us about Defendicon and Dawn Hazelwood.”

  Zane snorted. “One of his biggest competitors? I bet we’ll get an earful. I’d like to hear what he has to say about Marcus and Liam disappearing too. I’ll call the county jail and try to set up a phone call.”

  ###

  The smell of beef stew greeted Stevie as she entered her mother’s home. Unable to get a call through to check in on her family, Stevie had decided to swing by and see how everyone was managing after the shooting last night. Her stomach rumbled. It’d been hours since she’d eaten.

  She found her mother in the kitchen and was surprised to see an older male visitor sitting on a stool at the island having a bowl of the stew.

  Patsy introduced her guest. Carly had told Stevie about the new child psychiatrist in town. Dean Mercer stood up, wiped his mouth with a napkin as Stevie approached, and then shook her hand. He was tall with a touch of an East Coast accent, and he wore jeans and an ancient Jurassic Park T-shirt. His smile was kind, and his gaze put her at ease.

  Stevie gave her mom a kiss. “I like the way you did your hair,” she told Patsy, admiring the few small braids in her waves and noting her mother was wearing the expensive earrings Stevie had bought her last Christmas.

  “Are you hungry, Stevie?” Patsy asked, already filling a bowl. She always cooked or baked when she was stressed. Her family reaped the benefits.

  “Starving.” Stevie pulled out a stool by Dean and sat.

  “This is the best stew I’ve had in a decade,” said Dean.

  “Mom’s a good cook. Where is everybody?”

  “Napping,” answered Patsy. “The shock and lack of sleep caught up with everyone this afternoon. Even Bruce came home an hour ago and crashed.” Her eyes turned sad. “He told me about the FBI agents and how you found Liam’s jacket. That’s horrible. That poor little boy.” She set the bowl in front of Stevie.

  She stared at the stew, no longer hungry.

  “Who do they think shot the FBI agents?” asked Dean.

  “Good question.” Stevie took a bite of the stew; it was flavorless in her dry mouth. “It wasn’t how we wanted to start the day, especially when we thought everything had been cleared up last night.” She watched Dean out of the corner of her eye and wondered if he would gossip. He didn’t seem like the type, but neither did half of Solitude, and news still ripped through the town like wildfire.

  “I talked with Brianna,” said Dean. “She’s a pretty resilient kid. I think she’ll handle the events of last night just fine with some good therapy and love from her parents.” He frowned. “I hope those agents weren’t murdered in front of Liam. That boy has been through enough already.”

  “Possibly he and Marcus got away before the shooting.”

  “You saw evidence of that?” Dean asked, his eyebrows lifting.

  Stevie took another bite, carefully considering her answer, still uneasy about fueling the gossip train. His prying questions made her uncomfortable. “We’re not ruling it out.”

  “You’re still searching for the boy, right?” asked Patsy, concern wrinkling her forehead. “He and his uncle Marcus were so relieved to see each other this morning. I can’t bear to think that something horrible has happened to the two of them.”

  Is Liam still alive?

  Stevie’s brain was tired. “Of course. We haven’t given up.”

  Dean leaned closer, lowering his voice even though Stevie and Patsy were the only people in the room. “I assume the police have considered that Wade Pierce took the boy.”

  “It’s one of the theories.” Stevie decided not to share that Wade Pierce had been seen on the Oregon coast. “No matter what has happened, be careful. Someone killed those agents, and he has to be in the area. It’s impossible to cross the river or the flooded areas to get out.”

  “Are you going to warn the town?” Dean asked.

  “Zane decided to put out general warnings, not specific ones. We don’t want to cause an unnecessary panic, and I imagine the shooter will try to stay under the radar. Either he’s sitting tight in the woods somewhere or possibly hiding in plain sight.”

  If I were to hide in plain sight, where would I go?

  Stevie wished she’d asked Miss Penny about her other guests.

  “That makes sense. You don’t want people accidentally shooting their neighbors,” agreed Dean.

  “I don’t like the idea of someone skulking around our town and homes. I’m going to lock up the vehicles,” stated Patsy. “I’ll be right back.”

  Small Town Rule #3: There’s no need to lock your vehicle.

  An awkward silence stretched between Stevie and Dean.

&nbs
p; “How long have you been in Solitude?” Stevie asked.

  “Not long. I like it. People wave to you on the street. That’s hard to find these days.”

  “Are you married? Kids?” Small talk.

  “Widower. One son who lives in Portland.” He kept his eyes on his bowl.

  Sympathy filled her. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. It’s been five years.” Now he met her gaze, and she saw a brief flash of pain.

  Before she could talk herself out of the question, she blurted, “Does it get better?”

  Dad.

  Over a year had passed since her father was murdered, and every time she parked at her mother’s home and realized “Big” Bill Taylor wasn’t going to appear on the porch to greet her, she was ripped apart.

  Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I know about your dad. No, it doesn’t stop hurting. It eases up, but you learn how to manage the pain and move on.”

  “I don’t want to do that. It feels like I’m leaving him behind.”

  “Your mother said you’re recently married.”

  “Yes. Last summer.”

  “I’d call that moving on. You go on with your life, doing what normal people do, but you always wonder why everyone else can’t see your giant missing piece.”

  Exactly.

  “I suspect he’s watching you,” Dean said gently. “He knows. I have to believe my Janice is keeping a sharp eye on me. I had a habit of putting things off, always setting tasks aside. It made her furious when she’d find an electric bill that hadn’t been paid in three months.”

  Stevie grinned in spite of herself. That was the exact reason her father wouldn’t let Patsy handle the bills. Now Carly kept an eye on them. Patsy and Dean would be a nightmare together.

  Together.

  Stevie blinked. The earrings. The new hairdo. The stew.

  It’s been nearly a year and a half.

  Her mother deserved someone special in her life. Stevie looked at Dean with new eyes, examining him with a mental microscope. Finding someone good enough for her mother would be a Herculean task, and Stevie had gotten mixed vibes from the man, so she was reserving judgment.

  “Any past-due notices lately?” she joked.

  “Only one. I consider that a win.”

  Patsy came in, wiping the rain off her shoulders. “When will it stop?” She smiled at the two of them, and her eyes lingered on Dean. Stevie winced, wondering how she’d missed the attraction when she first arrived.

  None of my business.

  But she’d keep an eye on Dean Mercer.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Zane inhaled as he stepped into Nell’s little store, expecting the usual heavenly scent of her fried chicken. He frowned; all he smelled was coffee. He’d swung by to pick up dinner before he met Stevie at home, knowing their refrigerator held nothing but lunch meat and yogurt.

  He strode back to the deli counter and spotted Nell running the meat slicer. The woman glanced up. “Evening, Chief. And before you ask, yes, I’m out of chicken.” Exasperation filled her voice.

  “There’s been a run on your fried chicken?” Knowing he couldn’t have the meat increased his craving tenfold.

  “This is the first time in Solitude’s history that I’m plumb out of chicken with no idea when I’ll have more. Occasionally I’ve sold out before I can finish cooking the next batch, but I’ve never been unable to get supplies. I’m running out of everything in the store. People have been stocking up, which is great, but I can’t replenish.” The gray-haired woman was both shocked and annoyed. “Bugs the heck out of me that I can’t feed my town.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we’ll get a road open soon. The rain is supposed to let up, and it looks like Thanksgiving might be dry.”

  She sniffed. “It’ll be dry of turkey too unless folks bought one last week.” Nell scanned her store and then leaned over the counter, lowering her voice. “Is it true those FBI agents didn’t make it out of town?”

  I should be surprised she knows, but I’m not.

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I saw the tow truck go by. Those tarps covering the vehicle were blowing in the wind. I saw the black paint and a flash of a shattered windshield. Then I saw it back into that building you use to store stuff. What happened?”

  Shit.

  “Did you tell anyone else what you saw?”

  “Come on, Chief. You know me better than that by now.” At his look of disbelief, she amended her statement. “I know when to keep my mouth shut. I only gab about the harmless stuff.”

  Zane weighed his options. “Can I trust you to keep this quiet?”

  She nodded emphatically.

  “The agents were shot and killed. Liam Pierce and his uncle have gone missing.”

  Her mouth rounded into an O.

  He’d never seen Nell speechless before.

  “I figured they’d had a car accident. Didn’t know they were dead.”

  “Keep it to yourself.”

  “Who shot them?” she whispered, her pale eyes wide and worried.

  “We’re trying to figure that out. Have you seen any new faces in town recently?”

  She tapped a finger against her lips as she thought. “Mostly locals have been in since the storm started. There’s been a few strangers here and there, but their looks don’t stick in my head. Nothing stood out about them, I guess.” She frowned. “Except the woman from a few hours ago. Her I remember. Never seen her before, but I assume you’re looking for a man?”

  “We assume nothing. What was she like?”

  “She was city. Tall, blonde, and nosy.”

  “Sounds like one of Miss Penny’s lodgers.”

  Nell’s head bobbed up and down. “She said she was staying there. She wanted to know if I had any premade kale salads. I heard people were eating that green stuff. I’ve used it to line my cold cases for decor—never dreamed of eating it. She wasn’t happy that the only salads I had left were potato and macaroni.” Her face lit up as she chuckled. “Then she asked if I really served deep-fried owls. Took me a minute to realize she was looking at my old sign.”

  Zane estimated the I LIKE MY SPOTTED OWL DEEP FRIED political sign above the deli was nearly forty years old. He grinned. “What’d you tell her?”

  “Told her I was out of owls too. The look on her face made my day. She wanted to know if any elk hunters had come in recently.”

  That caught Zane’s attention. “That seems random.”

  “That’s what I thought. I told her not for a few days. The only ones I’ve seen recently were those two boys who got away from Kenny. Before they were hauled into jail, they were in here every day for beer.”

  The Dodge brothers.

  “You think those were the ones she meant?”

  “I told her that I’d seen two dark-haired brothers who claimed to be hunting in the area. I didn’t tell her they’d been arrested or that the police were still looking for them, but I got the impression those were the men she was asking about.”

  Zane didn’t know what to think. Why would a woman like Dawn Hazelwood be interested in those idiots?

  “Then there’s that new shrink. He’s still a new face to me. Seems like a nice enough guy. I heard he specializes in kids.”

  “Dean Mercer.”

  “That’s the one. Like I told Patsy . . . He is fiiiine-lookin’.”

  Zane decided not to comment on the psychiatrist’s looks. “Let me know if you see anyone else that feels out of place. And keep an eye out for the boy. I’ll send you a picture of the uncle when I get a minute.”

  “Will do, Chief.”

  ###

  That evening, Zane realized he and Stevie were the image of domestic bliss.

  Stevie stirred the spaghetti sauce on the stovetop in their cozy home. Zane sat in his easy chair with Magic snoring at his feet, admiring the backside of his wife. It was a scene out of every 1960s TV show.

  Except for the heavy
cloud of unease that filled the room. Neither of them could get Liam or the FBI agents out of their minds. The results of the agents’ executions were permanently burned into Zane’s brain. Blood. Gray matter.

  A lost yellow coat.

  “I told you I lined up a phone call with Terry Reece from the county jail tomorrow morning, right?” asked Zane.

  Stevie glanced over her shoulder at him, a concerned look on her face. “You’ve told me twice.”

  “I thought so.” Zane felt like he was surrounded by a dense fog. He’d been running on autopilot since the search had not ended well. His mind was tired from thinking about Liam.

  Is he cold tonight?

  “Did I tell you that Nell talked to Dawn Hazelwood?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He shared that Dawn had asked about the Dodge brothers.

  “Is Nell positive that was who Dawn meant?” Stevie was as skeptical as Zane had been. No one would put those two parties together.

  “I’d say she was eighty percent certain.”

  Stevie went back to her sauce. “That’s not good enough.” She opened the oven to check on the garlic bread, and the delectable scent made its way to Zane. Magic lifted her head and sniffed. At the moment, Zane was glad Nell had been out of fried chicken.

  Ten minutes later, dinner was on the table along with a bottle of wine. Zane poured two glasses and kissed his wife. “I love you.”

  At her smile, his heart did a little skip and then a double beat.

  “I love you too.” Her warm gaze echoed her words. She dished up her plate, and Zane noticed her portion seemed very small. He did his plate and took another sip of wine, staring at his serving of pasta and sauce. Stevie poked at hers with her fork, set her fork down, and took a bite of garlic bread. She grabbed her wine and then set it aside without tasting it.

  “Not hungry?” he asked.

  “No. I keep thinking about this morning.”

  “Same here.” He pushed away his plate. “I thought I was starving.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment.

  “I’ve seen dead children,” Zane slowly admitted. “I don’t care to see another. And I’m afraid that’s what we’re going to find.”