by Stacy Green
She wouldn’t look at Cage as she passed. Disappointment swelled in his chest. He wanted to reach for her, say something. But what? Was she that attracted to Ben? He clenched his fists at the thought.
Jaymee suddenly appeared in front of him, and Cage took a step back in surprise. He’d forgotten she was in the room. That had to be a first.
“She’ll be fine.”
“I can’t believe she’s this upset over Ben Moore, of all people.” The idea made his stomach recoil.
“It’s not Ben. It’s the idea she’s being used, and she didn’t realize it. Hurts. Let her process and talk to her tomorrow.”
As if he had any other choice. He swallowed over the building ache in his throat. “How’d you get to be so smart?”
Jaymee rolled her eyes. “Life experience, dummy.”
Dani rested her forehead against the shower wall while the cool water rolled down her back. She didn’t know why she was so upset. Her attraction to Ben Moore was based on nothing but looks, and she’d had a bad feeling about his motives. And he wasn’t the one she really wanted to have dinner with.
Still, she’d been blinded. Not by Ben’s charm or handsome face, but by her own foolish notions of the Southern gentleman–a cliché that was as disrespectful as it was stupid. She should have known better. These people, this place, weren’t some fictional fairytale designed to fit Dani’s dreams. They were real people with real problems and real goodness and in some cases, real darkness.
Fine, then. She got it now.
Sleep tonight, start fresh tomorrow.
And Ben Moore wasn’t getting near her house.
23
Being part of a small police force meant everyone had to work the occasional night shift, but Cage worked them more often than most. Normally he didn’t mind–nights were generally quiet save for the occasional drunken argument at the Lotus, the popular biker bar on the east side of town. But last night had been hellishly long. He’d spent his patrol driving around cursing Ben Moore and hoping Dani wouldn’t let him affect her anymore. She was a smart, savvy businesswoman. Too good for the likes of Ben.
At half past eight, the sun was bright and blazing, and Cage’s eyes begged to close. He made his way into the station for shift change thinking he’d crawl into his old bed at his parents’ and sleep until the afternoon. And not think about Dani Evans.
“Cage.” Gina stood outside her closet-sized office, mouth tight and arms crossed over her chest. “Got a minute?”
He was tempted to ask if she could wait, but the look in Gina’s eyes unnerved him. Something had happened.
“Sure.”
“Come in.” She closed the door, shutting out the busy morning. Small in stature, Gina still managed to cut an imposing figure in her uniform. Her grim face matched her rigid posture. Instead of sitting, she leaned against the side of her desk and motioned for Cage to take a seat.
She wanted to have the upper hand, he realized. His defenses snapped up. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve identified one of the men found buried at Ironwood. His prints were in the system.”
“Good.”
Gina held up a small digital recorder and then placed it on the desk. “This is an informal interview, but I need to have a record.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Cage’s insides overheated, his skin sticky and smelling of nervous sweat. He wasn’t afraid of what they’d found. More like the fact that they’d found anything they needed to talk to him about.
Gina pressed the ‘record’ button. “His name was Martin Robertson. From Hattiesburg. Name ring any bells?”
“No.”
She laid a file on the metal table. “This is a report filed by Officer Hendricks in March of last year. You rode with him for quite a while.”
“He’s a good guy.”
Gina slid on a pair of reading glasses. “Report says that you and Officer Hendricks arrested Martin Robertson on disorderly conduct.”
“All right.” Cage didn’t ask questions. He wasn’t about to give Gina anything she could run with.
“He caused some problems at The Lotus. Typical drill.”
“Sounds like it. Is there mention of why he was in town? Hattiesberg’s a decent haul.”
Gina ignored the question. “When you and Officer Hendricks brought him in for booking, Robertson started shooting his mouth off. Wondered if you were the same Cage Foster he’d heard about, the one whose sister up and got herself murdered.”
Roiling heat simmered in Cage’s belly. “I remember him.”
“Then you remember asking how he heard about Lana, and he said he’d had his connections. Even seen her pictures. He taunted you. And you reacted. Had it not been for Hendricks, you probably would have been hit with charges yourself that night.”
He shrugged.
“But that’s not what interests me.” Gina took off the glasses and set them next to the discarded file. “What interests me is that, per protocol, Hendricks noted in his report that you threatened to ‘wring Robertson’s neck and toss him out like trash’ if he kept running his mouth.”
His lips had gone dry. “Gina, that was a bad time. I was upset about Lana. Jaymee and I had been arguing. Dad was sick. I said something stupid.”
“It’s Captain right now.” Gina’s stare was hard, her mouth pinched, tone sharp. “I know you were angry. I remember some disciplinary action being threatened around that time, too.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Maybe Landers has a point. Maybe Robertson’s taunts made you snap. You took your revenge.”
“Why? And why would I bury him at Ironwood?”
“Convenience. You became caretaker less than a month after that incident.”
Cage shook his head. He ground his teeth with the effort not to argue.
“We’ve talked to Robertson’s family. They’ve confirmed he liked to explore abandoned houses. Apparently he had a knack for finding valuable stuff.”
“So Dani was right. Any idea who the other victim is?”
“A few.” Gina studied him for a moment. She spread her hands on the table, palms down, and leveled a steely-eyed glare at him. “Other evidence supporting Dani’s theory was found with the body. We’re certain this man and his friend were digging around Ironwood for the supposed family heirlooms.”
She was talking about the brooch. Cage didn’t speak. If Gina knew he’d been talking to Billy, he’d lose whatever standing he had left with her. And the kid would be in trouble.
“And the medical examiner now says that it’s difficult to pinpoint the exact time of death because of the circumstances surrounding the bodies. Being buried in plastic, in the earth, with the humidity and likely moisture during the rainy season, makes it damned hard to know for sure.”
“Does she have an estimated time?”
“She does. A six-month span. Starting two months before you moved in. Which covers your little altercation with Robertson quite nicely.”
Fear worked its way into his throat, lodging itself there and refusing to let Cage speak. He swallowed and winced.
“Anything else?”
Shaking her head, she watched him in the same way he’d seen her look at suspects, with cold eyes and an expressionless face. Thinking, debating, sizing up.
“You guys looking into Lee Walker as diligently as me? After all, he had all the same access I did. Knowledge of the house, possible motivation if he found out what Martin was doing.”
“As a matter of fact, we are. Since the medical examiner has given us a wide time span, it’s hard for us to clear anyone. But Lee was gone for six weeks during those months. And he didn’t have an altercation with one of the victims. Moves him down the list.”
Feeling like a coyote surrounded by hunters, Cage took a deep breath. He was innocent. And a cop. He knew what Gina was watching for. He uncrossed his arms and laid his hands on the table–friendly and semi-relaxed. He matched her gaze as he spoke.
“I r
ealize you have to investigate all angles. But I didn’t do this. And I trust you to find that out. But I do have some information for you.”
Gina waited.
“You know about Ben Moore’s interest in Ironwood.” Cage recounted the information he’d learned from Nick. “And now he’s back just as these men are discovered.”
“Motive?”
“He sent the guys down to search for goodies. Maybe they found something. Something that made him think they’d discovered the Laurents’ hiding place.”
Gina narrowed her eyes.
“Ben wants it for himself. Comes down and takes care of his explorers, takes what he can, buries the bodies.”
“That’s one hell of a stretch.”
“So is my being a killer. I have no motive.”
“But you do. And you had the means. And the opportunity. Look, Cage, I’ve been on your side until now. But frankly, it’s starting to look pretty dark for you. Your affinity for history is no secret. You tried hard to save the Semple farm, and the effort failed. Then you take to Ironwood. A psychologist might wonder if you were compensating for your inability to save Lana.”
Cage bit his tongue and tasted blood.
“Ironwood is alone and unloved. Maybe you feel some sort of odd kinship with the place. Protective. You’re putting your own sweat and blood into cleaning her up. Then these two men show up with no regard for the house. You snap. Bury the bodies where it’s convenient and figure you’ll move them later.”
“Really? If that’s the case, then wouldn’t I have moved them after I found the skull?”
“You didn’t count on the extensive dig or on the electrician seeing the skull.”
“You’re a better cop than that.”
She slammed her fist on the table and leaned forward. “I am a better cop. And you’ve been causing trouble in this investigation from day one. First I thought it was just your nature, but now I’m thinking you’ve really got something to hide.”
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’d turn on me so quickly.”
“I’m following the evidence. The fact that it’s leading to you sickens me, but this is my job. You’re a suspect, and between the opportunity and the ties to Robertson, you’re at the top of the list.”
“Fine. Keep me at the top. Hopefully you won’t spend too much time spinning your wheels since we both know I’m innocent. Are we finished here?” He stood to his full height, dwarfing Gina.
“No. Sit down.” She went over to the door and stuck her head out. “Come on in.”
Cage recognized the heavy tread before Landers even entered the room. The glint in the investigator’s eyes ignited a fresh wave of fear inside Cage. The evidence must be very good for Landers’s fat ass to be so excited.
Landers took his place against the wall, arms crossed over his excess belly, knowing smile etched on his face.
“So let’s get to it,” Cage said.
“Fine.” Landers tossed a plastic bag onto the table. It landed with a dull clang.
Cage took a moment to process what he was looking at. Then, a sliver of cold panic rippled across his spine.
Dog tags.
“These were found with Martin Robertson’s body,” Landers said. “Clenched in his hands. Decomposition left them in pretty nasty shape, but the ME was finally able to make out who they belonged to. Your father.”
Now the sliver morphed into a mallet, slamming against his chest. “Dad’s?”
“Your father isn’t considered a suspect,” Gina said. “He’s certainly not physically fit nor has he ever been spotted around Ironwood. More importantly, I happen to know your father gave you those dog tags several years ago.”
“I lost them.”
“When?”
He dug his fingers into his temples. “During the move to the carriage house.”
Landers huffed. “Another bullshit story. Why don’t you just do us all a favor and come clean, Foster? Stop wasting time and precious resources. You killed those men and used your position as caretaker to cover it up.”
“No.”
“Cage, we’ve got enough to file charges.” Gina had softened her tone, trying to play nice. “The probable cause is there. You had motive, means, and opportunity.”
“You don’t even have an established cause of death,” Cage said. “How could you possibly say you have probable cause?” He was taking a risk–Jeb could have been out of the loop on the cause of death–but the twitch of Gina’s mouth gave her away. They didn’t have it.
“Nor do you have any physical evidence,” Cage continued. “My DNA isn’t with those bodies.”
“Trace evidence hasn’t come back yet,” Gina said. “We don’t know what physical evidence is there.”
“I know mine isn’t, because I didn’t do this.”
“Then how do you explain one of the victims having these,” Landers drummed a stubby finger against the plastic bag, “in his cold, dead hand?”
“I told you. The move was chaos, and I assumed they’d gotten lost during it. But someone must have stolen the tags. I work a lot of night patrols. It would have been easy.”
“We didn’t uncover any foreign prints in the carriage house,” Gina said.
“He wore gloves.”
“Enough.” Landers leaned down to stick his face into Cage’s. “You are the one person who could have easily done this. Every bit of evidence so far points to you. Are we supposed to believe someone had it out for you so much they’re framing you for murder?”
Cage fisted his hands against his knees, willing himself not to throttle the investigator’s plump neck. He didn’t back away from Landers, however, instead leaning forward until his face was within an inch of the older man’s. “I don’t care what you believe, as long as you get your head out of your ass long enough to see what’s actually going on.”
“Ben Moore,” Gina said.
“Could be.”
“Except he didn’t have the access you did, Cage,” Gina said.
“You think Ironwood became a fortress just because I was living in the carriage house? I work 12-hour shifts. It’s pretty easy to find out when I’m on duty. The place had broken windows, rusted locks. Anyone with skill could get in, and if this Martin Robertson was scavenging the place, clearly, they did. So your access theory is out the window. And Ben Moore was working with Norton Investments to buy Ironwood. No doubt he skulked around the place.”
“Ben Moore was in Jackson at the time of the murders,” Landers said.
“Except again, you don’t have a clear time of death.” Cage looked at Gina, hoping to appeal to the cop he knew she was. “You said Robertson had the dog tags in his hand? If I killed him, don’t you think I would have noticed him ripping off the dog tags and made sure to get them back? It’s awfully damned convenient they were so easily discovered.”
“Most criminals are caught because of simple mistakes,” she said.
“And just as many aren’t caught because of police ineptness.”
Landers stepped forward, grabbing Cage by the collar of his shirt. Without thinking, Cage leapt to his feet. He had several inches over Landers, and he wasn’t about to be intimidated. “Go ahead. Pull a punch so I can file charges against you for police brutality.”
“Enough.” Gina stood as well.
“Again, I lost the dog tags,” Cage said. “Ask Officer Hendricks. We still rode together when I moved into the carriage house, and I distinctly remember talking to him about losing the tags.”
“Sure you do.” Landers still breathed heavy, hands drawn into burly fists.
The coil of anxiety began to loosen. Hendricks would remember the conversation. “Our fathers were both in Vietnam. Served together. His father was killed; mine came back home. We both have their dog tags. Hendricks understood how important they were to me, and he talked about how sick he would have been if he’d lost his dad’s. Ask him. He’ll remember.”
“Still a convenient excuse,” Landers snapp
ed. “You could have told him that to cover your own ass.”
“Right. But isn’t your theory that I killed these men after I moved?”
“Or you took the caretaker job cause you’d been using the place as a dumping ground,” Landers said. “Either way works for me.”
“You don’t have a time of death. You have no forensic evidence. What you have is circumstantial and can be easily explained. Hendricks’ll back me up.”
Gina chewed on her lower lip. “Landers, make the call. See what he says. Cage and I will wait right here.”
“I don’t care what Hendricks says.” Landers thumped across the room. “Crime lab results on those personal effects found with the bodies will be back soon. You’ll have left something behind. We’ll have you.”
He slammed the door, rattling the frames on the wall.
Cage glanced at Gina. The captain’s face was unreadable. “This won’t take long. If Hendricks remembers things like you say, I’ll have to let you go. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop digging.”
“As long as you’re digging in the right place, Captain.”
24
Dani’s breath evaporated as she exited her rental. The temperature had skyrocketed after yesterday’s storm, and worse yet, the humidity was as dense as a wet cotton blanket. She felt as though she’d gained ten pounds, the bulk of it being from the imaginary pressure against her chest. Breathing hard against the heavy air, she crossed the busy street without looking for a crosswalk and hurried to the building on the corner.
This was her first visit to the historical foundation, and she would have liked to stroll around the old building and get a feel for the area, but it was just too damned hot.
Once Dani was inside, the blast of air conditioning brought a moment’s relief and then a wave of nausea. She still wasn’t used to the South.
Lee waited for her at the front desk. “Child, your cheeks are as red as an embarrassed schoolgirl,” he said.
“It’s the heat.” Dani blinked rapidly, her eyes adjusting. “Still getting used to it.”