by Maggie Wells
A snicker came through the phone. “No need. Hang on.” Randy fumbled with the phone. A second later, Harry heard him say, “New note. Samuel Coulter. Snakes. Trafficking. Heroin. Matthew Rinker. R-I-N-K-E-R. Pine Bluff, Georgia. Save note.”
“I should’ve known you couldn’t use a pen and paper like any normal person,” Harry teased.
“Most normal people never pick up a pen these days,” Randy pointed out.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate you doing whatever you can.”
“Anytime. I’ll try to get back to you today with whatever I can find.”
Before he ended the call, Harry asked, “Hey, I never asked—how’s the new business coming? Do people actually pay you to hack into things for them?”
Randy chortled. “No, they pay me to make sure other people can’t hack into their things. It’s called cybersecurity. Plug that into your next internet search.”
Harry smiled. “Okay. I will.”
“Okay. I’m going to go finish my ride. Then I’ll get on this. Talk soon.”
Harry pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the screen to be sure the call had ended. If Randy couldn’t dig up any dirt on these message boards, no one could.
Satisfied he’d set something in motion, Harry turned his attention to the odd bits of paperwork and scribbled sticky notes he’d left for himself on Friday afternoon. It seemed like months ago. Normally, his weekends were quiet. He spent them working, either on cases or around the house. For relaxation, he watched whatever sport was in season, and occasionally hung out with Ben or Simon. But like so many of his contemporaries, Ben and Simon had found ways to pair off, leaving Harry mostly to his own devices unless he chose to become a fifth wheel in the group.
He peeled the sticky note reminding him to pick up wine for Simon’s party off his desk and studied it, his thoughts drifting back to Alicia and how well she’d fitted in with his friends. How well she seemed to fit into his life. Postkiss awkwardness aside, she slipped seamlessly into the rhythm of his household. Granted, the rhythm was more a slow, steady beat than a driving bass line, but something told him Alicia didn’t mind the quiet. It wasn’t much of a stretch to deduce she was as solitary a creature as him. But was it by choice or happenstance?
Slumping in his chair, he crumpled the square of paper, pondering the question. He’d always assumed he’d meet the right woman one day and get married. He’d never given his continued single status a lot of thought. Not even when ex-girlfriends sent perfectly posed photos of their angelic children. Was it possible he’d met the right woman already and failed to notice? Pursing his lips, Harry tossed the balled-up reminder into the trash. Sure. Anything was possible. And truthfully, he’d thought he’d have more of a chance with Alicia when she was in Pine Bluff in the fall. Her abrupt departure had stung, but he’d chalked his feelings up to a bruised ego rather than a hopeful heart.
Maybe he’d been too quick to dismiss them.
Sure, they’d only had the one night together, but they had worked closely with one another for the short time she had been in town. He’d liked her. Not only as an attractive, compelling woman, but as a person. He’d liked her direct manner and linear thinking. They had slotted together the chunks of information Alicia had on Coulter’s activities prior to planting himself in Pine Bluff and the bits and pieces Harry had gathered—thanks to Lori Cabrera’s dogged determination.
And he’d been pretty sure whatever feelings he had for her at the time were mutual. Maybe even after she left. She’d been the one who’d called the US attorney and convinced him to let Harry ride shotgun on the case. Bolstered by the thought, Harry checked the time on his phone. Deciding he’d whittled away enough of the morning to make the timing of his next call not unreasonable, he pulled up Marcus Zeller’s contact information. If he was doing some additional investigation adjacent to the Coulter case, professional courtesy demanded he give the federal prosecutor a heads-up.
“Zeller,” Marcus said when the call connected. “How’re you doing, Harry?”
“Hey, Marcus. I’m well.” His breath caught as the memory of a car bearing down on them flashed in his mind. He forced it from his lungs on a hard laugh. “For the time being.”
“Well, you sound ominous, even for a Monday morning. Fill me in. What’s happening?”
Harry blew out another breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Grab a cup of coffee—this might take a minute.”
Chapter Fourteen
Alicia couldn’t believe the things she’d heard over lunch at Brewster’s Bakery. When Marlee texted the previous afternoon to invite her, she didn’t hold out much hope for pertinent information, but figured making another appearance among the women of Pine Bluff couldn’t hurt. Boy, had she underestimated the power of the ladies who lunch.
Quick-stepping it down the sidewalk, she set her sights on the municipal building, anxious to tell Harry what all she’d learned. In truth, she was relieved to have something easy to talk to him about. The previous day had been an exercise in uncomfortable restraint. Topics they didn’t want to talk about far outnumbered those on the table, and the gaping holes made for an awful lot of stilted conversation. It was exhausting.
She hadn’t gone back to Atlanta, obviously. She hadn’t emailed Bronson or responded to his messages. Instead, she contacted Human Resources and informed them she required personal leave effective immediately. Alicia knew it was a dangerous game she was playing, but she needed time, and she needed to be involved in something other than sorting through the wreckage of what was once a stellar career. She was scared to face the possibility of finding nothing worth salvaging.
The kicker of it was, like Ben Kinsella, she had done nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, like Ben, she’d excelled at her job. But winning didn’t always mean you got the prize, she reminded herself.
She checked for traffic before crossing the street, trying to keep her mind focused. But it was hard. There were so many variables. Too many pieces in play.
Her circumstances had changed radically. She needed time to think long and hard about what she wanted to do next. This pregnancy and the changes in lifestyle it would require would make it next to impossible for her to do the fieldwork she loved, even if she could get Bronson to cut her loose from her desk. And if she couldn’t... If her superiors decided sitting at a desk listening to hours of unedited audio and video clips was where she would best be utilized, she wasn’t sure the agency was the right place for her anymore.
Shoving her worry aside, she hopped onto the curb and hurried to the front door of the municipal building. She was excited to see Harry again, which was disturbing enough. They’d only been apart a few hours. Memories of their late-night encounter hung heavy over them. She kissed him, and he kissed her back. Then he told her things were too complicated.
And she got it. Things were complicated. Her gut told her he wasn’t rejecting her outright, but it sure didn’t feel good. There was something between them. It was the same sizzle she felt when they first met, but now it burned inside her steady as a flame.
Alicia tried to reason with herself. Whatever feelings she might be having toward Harry could simply be an extension of her emotional attachment to the baby she carried. No doubt he was worried about the same thing. If she were in his shoes, she would be too. Another reason she was glad to be a woman. Glad to have complete control over her relationship with her unborn child. Plus, she didn’t feel overly sorry for men in general. After all, they seemed to think they should rule about everywhere else.
A rush of warm air greeted her when she stepped into the glass atrium separating the sheriff’s office and jail from the district attorney’s and judiciary suites. Law and justice. Together, as they should be, she thought, not for the first time. She started toward the door to the justice side of things. Matthew Rinker. The talk about him at the bakery may have turned into an honest-to-goodness lead, and sh
e couldn’t wait to flesh it out with Harry.
She was reaching for the door handle when the door swung open, causing her to stumble back. Catching her breath, she found herself face-to-face with the man she’d been searching for.
“Harry, I was coming to see you,” she said, beaming a smile at him.
“And I was coming to find you,” he replied, but his expression was anything but welcoming.
Her smile faltered, and her brow knit. “What’s wrong?” She reached out and touched his arm, searching for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt? Did something happen?”
“No. I’m fine,” he insisted.
“You’re upset,” she pointed out.
“Am I? Huh. Maybe because I spoke with Marcus Zeller from the US Attorney’s Office and he tells me he heard through the grapevine you might not be assigned to this case any longer.”
Alicia sucked in a breath. “Oh?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels, his steady gaze locked on her. “Yeah,” he said succinctly. “He tells me one of his friends at the DEA told him you’d been put on leave. The rumors are you got crossways with your boss and you’re not even supposed to be here.”
“The rumors are false.” She grimaced. “Or mostly false.” He raised both eyebrows and she sighed. “I’ve taken a leave. My choice,” she asserted. “Put in for a personal leave, though it’s not any business of theirs.”
“Personal leave?”
Alicia knew she wasn’t playing fair, but she also wasn’t above using every tool in her arsenal. Closing a hand over her stomach, she stared down at it meaningfully, lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Yes. I have weeks of accumulated time I never use, and I thought now would be the perfect time to take a few days to think.”
“So, you aren’t on the case?”
She heard his quick intake of breath and felt a pang of guilt. This was Harry. They’d always shot straight with one another, and she had no reason to fudge the truth now.
“Technically, I haven’t been since I returned to Atlanta. We have a new section chief, and he’s assigned me to other things. Special Agent Morrisey is officially the contact, but Marcus Zeller and I have been friends for a long time and...” She trailed off. “As for the leave, I didn’t plan to take one, but it’s working out, so here we are.”
“What do you mean it’s working out?” he demanded.
“Bronson wanted me back in the office today. He’s got no reason to want me there other than to prove he can order me to do whatever he wants me to do.” She crossed her arms over her chest and mimicked his wide stance. “I don’t think he’s making the best use of my time or talent, so I informed Human Resources this morning I would be taking a leave of absence due to personal reasons.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he asked, and the sincere hurt in his tone tore a big gaping hole in her indignation. But rather than let it show, she arched a brow at him.
“I wasn’t aware I needed to consult you about my career decisions.”
“You don’t.”
His response came so quickly, Alicia knew she’d hit a sore spot. She immediately regretted going on the offensive. Hoping to make amends, she reached out and touched his arm again, this time letting her hand close around his biceps and drawing him away from the office door. “Come on. Let’s talk.”
The center of the atrium was dominated by a large mosaic-tile fountain. Long drained and inactive, it still defined the lobby area. She led him to the edge of the fountain and pulled him down beside her.
“Harry, everything in the world is a mess right now for you and for me.” She gave him a half smile. “But there’s only one thing I’m truly happy about, and the rest I’m gonna have to let play out a bit before I make any big decisions.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, but Harry nodded. “I get you.”
“I know you do,” she said, gentling her tone. “There are a lot of things hanging between us, but for right now, can we set all the other stuff aside? I have some things I want to tell you. Information I picked up, but I need to get your take on how valid you think the information may be.”
“Information on what?”
“Matt Rinker,” she said, holding his gaze.
Harry sat up straighter. “What about him?”
“I went to a lunch today at the bakery. Something Marlee called the Ladies Guild?” she said, wrinkling her nose at the name.
Harry smirked. “Ah. The Ladies Guild.”
“I take it you’re familiar with them?” she prompted.
“My mother used to be the president.”
“Okay, well, you probably have a pretty good idea of what goes on at their meetings.”
“I know there’s a lot of talk,” he replied, a note of disdain tingeing his voice.
“Well, some of the talk today was about how nice it was to see poor Marjorie Rinker happier these days. She’s telling everyone her boy—” she emphasized the word and pulled up air quotes to make it clear this was not the terminology she might have chosen “—Matthew is doing so much better since he’s found the Lord.”
Harry shot her a blasé stare. “This would be the point where one of us should insert a joke about how we didn’t know the Lord was missing and blah, blah, blah,” he said, circling his hand. “Let’s take it as a given and get to the good stuff.”
“She thinks his salvation will save him from the clutches of addiction.”
Harry’s lips parted in surprise. “Addiction? Addiction to what?”
Alicia couldn’t help but feel smug about what she had to share next. “Pills. Apparently, young Matthew got himself hooked on pills. Painkillers, to be exact. To hear some of the ladies of the guild talk, there have been some unreported thefts at the pharmacy. Carolee Masters says Mr. Rinker has been trying to get his son into a rehab center for months, but Matt wasn’t having anything to do with them.”
“I hate this for the Rinkers,” Harry said quietly. “My heart goes out to Chet and Marjorie that they have to deal with this kind of anguish for their only child. And Matt was a good guy...at one time.”
“From what I heard, it sounded like Mr. and Mrs. Rinker believe their son has found the path to the straight and narrow after attending a tent revival over in Prescott County.”
Harry pulled a face but shrugged. “Whatever works.”
But she wasn’t done driving home the point of her story. “Supposedly, Matt became enthralled by a preacher who liked to use serpents as a part of his sermonizing.”
Harry’s attention had drifted, but when she said the word serpents, his gaze snapped back to hers. “Are you serious?”
Alicia was unable to contain the twitch of excitement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “They say he became friends with some of the gentlemen who provided the animals for these exhibitions. He was training to become a handler himself. At the Reptile Rendezvous.”
She had the pleasure of watching Harry’s normally impassive expression cycle through a full range of emotions. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured.
He came around to gazing at her with something she could only label as shock and awe. “You’re trying to tell me Chet and Marjorie Rinker’s son is an oxy addict who found Jesus at the tent revival with a bunch of snake handlers?”
“Exactly.” She risked a small smile. “He also has a direct connection to Samuel Coulter.”
“At least to Coulter’s business. We don’t know about the man himself,” Harry corrected.
She inclined her head in acknowledgment, pressing on. “Listening to some of the ladies talk, or rather, how they didn’t talk when Mrs. Rinker was around, I get the feeling people around here know more about Matt’s activities than his parents.”
Harry exhaled long and loud. “I feel so bad for them,” he said gruffly. “I know it’s ridiculous
given what’s been happening to me, but I’ve known the Rinkers all my life.”
“I can understand how you’d feel...conflicted,” Alicia said, though she wasn’t entirely certain the statement was true.
She had never had the kind of connections with people that Harry had with the residents of this town. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around how he might be feeling generous or forgiving toward any of them, but this duality between the no-nonsense prosecutor and the empathetic man was what made him so attractive to her.
Reaching over, she clasped his hand. “I’m hoping we can set things right for you with a few well-placed questions.”
The door to the sheriff’s department swung open and Julianne Shields burst into the atrium with Ben and Deputy Mike Schaeffer pushing past her none too gently.
“Get out,” Ben snapped, dashing past them to the staircase leading to the second level, where the county offices were housed.
“Evacuate now,” Mike Schaeffer yelled as he bolted into the justice side of the building.
Harry grasped Alicia’s hand tightly and rose, turning his attention back to Julianne. “What’s going on?” he asked, his head whipping around and his eyes following Mike and Ben.
“Bomb threat,” Julianne answered, her face panic-stricken. “We need to evacuate right now,” she insisted, shooing them toward the exit doors.
“Bomb threat?” Alicia repeated, moving toward the doors and dragging Harry in her wake. “Are you kidding me?”
“I wish I was kidding. Come on,” she said, pushing the outer door open wide and holding it for them.
Alicia turned back to see Ben had gathered the clerical staff who worked on the second floor and was herding them down the steps. She was dragging Harry through the door when they spotted Danielle, Layla and Judge Nichols trailing Mike Schaeffer from the building.
They moved across the street onto the lawn surrounding the historic courthouse. Every one of the municipal building’s employees turned and stared at the squat brick building in shock as Ben counted heads.