Smoky Ridge Curse

by Paula Graves

  But he was there, dust-covered and bleeding from one shoulder. His dark hair looked gray, and his face was grimy. But his blue eyes were clear and blazing as he stared across the narrow gap between them.

  “I told you to stay at the cabin,” she said, her voice raspy.

  “I’m afraid I’m about as good at following orders as you are.” He took a step toward her, his face crinkling as if he was on the brink of breaking down. She’d never seen him look so fragile, not even when they’d lost Jim Fielding. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

  “Brand?”

  “I saw the place explode.”

  “How did you—?”

  “I saw them throw you in the shed, then come out with the box. The tracker showed you must be in the box, so I followed the truck they put you in.” He reached out slowly, as if he needed to touch her, to reassure himself she was real and not just a mirage.

  She caught his hand, twining her fingers through his. He stared at her, lips trembling. Then, so quickly it made her breath catch, he pulled her to him, his grip as strong as steel.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You can’t just walk in there and confront him,” Brand said, panic twisting in his gut at the thought of her putting herself back in danger after he’d come so close to losing her.

  But Delilah’s squared jaw told him he was fighting a losing battle. “Hand me the computer.”

  They were in Liz’s truck—Delilah had wanted to download the video she’d recorded in the tunnel.

  He handed her the backpack where he’d put the tablet. “I’m not even sure why I brought it—I guess I didn’t want to leave it back at the cabin, in case we had to make a run for it.”

  “Good thing you did.”

  “Will this give us the evidence we need?”

  “It’s better than nothing,” she said. “I hope we can find Cavanaugh so he can provide testimony himself.”

  “Is it enough?” he asked as she started the download.

  “It’s a lot,” she said.

  As he watched, she held her breath and hit the play button on the video player. A grainy, dark image flickered to life. A sandy-haired man, grimy and scared-looking, spoke to the camera.

  “My name is Nolan Cavanaugh. I was a witness last year in federal court against former White House chief of staff Katrina Hilliard, former Energy Secretary Morris Gamble and several of their coconspirators in an attempt to use extortion, duress and murder to influence Congress in a vote on a global energy treaty. I was sent into a federal witness protection program, where I stumbled on an anarchist group called Black Banner that was working to undermine an energy-research project called the Devonian Project.”

  Brand listened as Cavanaugh explained how he recognized remnants of the hacker group that had aided the now defunct Espera Group in their attempt to seize control of global energy production. “Black Banner’s aim is global anarchy, the complete destruction of civil society and any rules that govern it. It was their reason for helping Espera Group, convinced that global control of energy would be the beginning of the end of the United States and their global hegemony.”

  Brand glanced at Delilah. She rolled her eyes, making him smile. Of course, right about now, just the sight of her grimy face, so alive and alert, was enough to make him want to laugh aloud.

  “They found unexpected allies in a Virginia militia group called the Blue Ridge Infantry, a ragtag band of white-power and antigovernment radicals who discovered their aims and those of Black Banner were more aligned than either group expected. But neither group would have been able to do much more than make some noise and print a few pamphlets if they hadn’t met a man named Wayne Cortland.”

  Cavanaugh outlined everything he knew, naming names, rattling off a series of connections that made Brand’s mind reel. “I’ve been trying to figure out where Cortland keeps his books. He’s far too organized to be able to keep all the balls in the air without some means of record keeping. But I haven’t been able to get far enough into the organization to find where he’d store those records.” A moment later, the video ended.

  Delilah looked at Brand. “Does it help?”

  “Not as much as the actual records would. But Cavanaugh gives us a lot of names to work with that we didn’t have before.”

  “It doesn’t prove your innocence.”

  “It may help. One of the names Cavanaugh mentions is Hogan Lombard.”

  Delilah nodded. “One of the Blue Ridge Infantry members.”

  “Hogan Lombard’s name came up in Liz’s address book when the police were investigating. He’d been one of her informants, according to her notes.”

  “Or maybe he was just pretending to be.”

  “If we can place Lombard anywhere near her place the night she died, it would be a damned good start.”

  “What if it’s not enough?”

  He reached out and slid a loose lock of hair behind her ear, wishing he could promise her that everything was going to be okay. But she was right. Though it was a start, there was no guarantee the authorities would see things the way he and Delilah did.

  “That’s a chance we have to take,” he said firmly, dropping his hand back to his side. “It’s time to come in from the cold.”

  She looked at him, her dark eyes fathomless. “And then what?”

  He realized what she was asking. And there were a dozen damned good reasons why he could distance himself from her, put up walls to keep her out of his mess. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not this time.

  Never again.

  He reached across the truck cab and cradled her face between his hands. “Whatever happens, I’m going to find a way to be with you. If that’s what you want.”

  She closed her fingers over his, squeezing them. “Even if it means never going back to the FBI?”

  He laughed softly. “I don’t think there’s much point in doing that, do you? You know how things are at the bureau. Even if I’m fully exonerated, this is a black mark that won’t go away.”

  “But if you could, would you?”

  It was a fair question. One that deserved an honest answer.

  So what was the honest answer? If he could erase all the strikes against him and go back to the FBI with a clean slate, would he?

  It wasn’t even a hard choice, he realized with surprise. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t go back.”

  “Even if I went with you?”

  “Would you?”

  “If that’s what it took,” she admitted, her gaze helpless.

  He kissed her. “Only if it was what we both wanted. And I don’t think that’s what either of us wants anymore, is it?”

  She shook her head. “But we’re going to get you out of this mess.”

  “I know.”

  She threaded her fingers through his and leaned up to kiss him, a sweet, hot kiss that made his head spin a little. “I love you, Adam Brand. I think I probably always have.”

  He laughed softly. “Never thought I’d hear you admit that, Hammond.”

  Her brow creased. “You’re making me regret it already.”

  Pressing his lips against her furrowed brow, he pulled her into his arms across the truck’s bench seat until he felt her heart pounding against his chest. “I love you, too. From the moment you stepped foot in my office, I was utterly lost. I’m just sorry it took this long to admit to myself that I don’t want to live a life without you in it.”

  “So whatever happens, w
e’re in this together?” She pulled back and looked at him, equal parts fear and joy in her eyes.

  “We’re going to have ourselves one of those happily ever afters,” he promised. “You believe that, don’t you?”

  Her lips curved in a smile. “You know, I believe I do.”

  * * *

  THEY LEFT THE Camaro at Liz Vaughn’s cabin and took the truck, since nobody would be looking for it. The drive from Travisville to Bitterwood took a little over three hours, with a stop for food on the way. The two of them made a bedraggled sight when they walked through the front doors of the Bitterwood Police Department and asked to see Detective Ivy Hawkins.

  “Son of a bitch” was Ivy’s terse response when she recognized Brand’s face from the wanted poster hanging on the bulletin board behind the front desk. She took Brand into custody without incident, told Delilah to stay put and hauled her new prisoner back to holding.

  Twenty minutes later, Sutton Calhoun came through the front door of the station and sat in the empty chair next to Delilah in the waiting area. “Ivy called.”

  “Where’s my mother?”

  “Travis Cooper is with her. Jesse sent him up here to give us extra backup.”

  Good old Jesse, Delilah thought, wondering if she’d been a fool to quit Cooper Security for a job in Bitterwood. The Coopers were the best kind of people, men and women who’d do the right thing without counting the costs.

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Day eight without a drink. I’ve never seen her look better.”

  “Good.” Delilah felt tears burning the backs of her eyes. She told herself it was the aftereffects of the tear gas.

  “You look like hell.”

  “Well, I’ve been tear-gassed and nearly blown up.”

  “You’ve been with Brand the whole time?”

  She nodded. “Is that common knowledge?”

  “Not really. I just know you.”

  She looked at him. Even through the obvious concern for her evident in his expression, he looked happy. She’d known him most of her life, and never before could she remember seeing him look so happy. “When are you and Ivy going to make it legal?”

  “As soon as we can get Seth and Rachel back in town safely. We wanted the two of them and you to be there. And Ivy’s mom, of course.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” she said with a forced smile. Her cheeks hurt from the effort.

  Sutton put his arm around her, something else he didn’t normally do. “It’s going to be okay, Dee. We’ll figure this out.”

  “I need to talk to Ivy, but I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself yet. Brand’s got a video on the computer in his backpack. I have to make sure someone sees it. Can you get word to Ivy?”

  “I’m sure they took his backpack when he was booked. They’ll search it and find the computer.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Who would have it?”

  Sutton gave her an odd look. “Probably the properties officer.”

  “Where do I find him?”

  Sutton picked up on her alarm, but he didn’t ask questions. He just directed her down the hall. “Third door on the right.”

  She walked down the hall, ignoring the desk sergeant when he asked where she was going. Pushing through the door Sutton had indicated, she strode down the corridor to the room at the far end, where a clerk at the window was talking to a burly, dark-haired man holding Brand’s backpack. Both men looked up at the sound of her footsteps approaching.

  She looked at the dark-haired man, unsurprised to recognize the captain of detectives, Glen Rayburn. “Captain.” She folded her arms in front of her, letting her thumb brush across the record button on her watch.

  Rayburn’s smile was downright vicious. “I tried to tell the chief you’d be trouble. And look here. Aiding and abetting a fugitive.”

  “I brought the fugitive in,” she said flatly.

  “You think I don’t know you’ve been helping him?”

  “Really. You know?” She cocked her head. “How would you know that?”

  Rayburn’s eyes flickered a moment. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Or maybe you have a buddy in Travisville, Virginia, who keeps you informed of things he’s doing so you can be sure to look the other way?” Delilah cocked her head. “I kept wondering why a police captain couldn’t look at four clearly connected murders and see that they were the work of the same perpetrator. Unless you didn’t want to see it.”

  “You’re treading on dangerous ground, Ms. Hammond.”

  “Why? Because I’m too close to the truth?”

  “Because people who cross me don’t make it very far on this force.”

  She shrugged. “And then I couldn’t figure out why Cortland’s men would target my brother.”

  “Maybe he was targeting the Davenport girl,” Rayburn said.

  “But he went after my brother’s car, not Rachel’s.”

  “He could know they’re involved.”

  Delilah narrowed her eyes. “You know what I find curious?”

  The captain’s eyes darkened with contempt. “I’m dying to know what you find curious.”

  “I find it curious you haven’t asked me who Cortland is.”

  Rayburn’s expression faltered. He shot a glance at the property-room clerk, who stared back at him with a furrowed brow. “Who’s Cortland?” Rayburn asked belatedly.

  Delilah shook her head. “I’ve suspected for a while that whoever was behind the Bitterwood murders had help from someone in the police department. But you know when I figured it out for sure?”

  Rayburn’s eyes narrowed further, but he didn’t speak.

  “Where were you yesterday around twelve-thirty?”

  “In my office.”

  “If I ask around, is that the answer I’ll get?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And if I were to get a subpoena for your cell-phone records, would I find a call from Wayne Cortland?”

  Rayburn looked scared. “What are you implying?”

  “I’ve spoken to maybe seven people since I returned to Bitterwood. My family, Rachel Davenport, Ivy Hawkins, Sutton Calhoun, Chief Albertson—and you. You’re the only people who would be able to recognize my voice on hearing it.”

  “So?” Rayburn was sweating now, reassuring Delilah that she was on the right track.

  “So, someone told Wayne Cortland that the woman who called his lumberyard yesterday shortly after noon was me.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because he was ready for me. He had me abducted and gassed and tried to blow me up in one of his warehouses.”

  “Yet here you are.” Rayburn tried to sound tough, but he’d turned a pasty color and looked as if he wanted to run away as fast and as far as he could.

  “Yes. Here I am.” She looked at the backpack, wondering if telling him about Cavanaugh’s recorded statement would prod him into doing something foolish.

  No matter. She still had the confession on her watch. As long as she had the watch, he could destroy anything in the backpack he wanted.

  Maybe they could even use that to set Rayburn up.

  Before she could wrap up their discussion, however, Sutton Calhoun came walking down the hall, his expression grim. Delilah watched his approach, her heart in her throat.

  Had something happened to Brand? Was she wrong about Rayburn? Was there someone else in the Bitterwood Police Department on Wayne Cortland’s payroll?

 
“There’s a news report you need to see,” Sutton told her, sliding a look of dislike toward Rayburn.

  “What is it?”

  Sutton nodded for her to come with him.

  She spared one last look at Rayburn and followed Sutton out to the front, where a handful of police and support personnel stood in a ring around the television in the waiting area.

  A Knoxville news station was showing a live feed from a station out of the TriCities area, where a news helicopter was hovering over a massive fire. “Witnesses report there was a massive explosion in the lumberyard office, spreading debris and fire into the lumberyard itself. So far, there has been no estimate of casualties, although emergency crews from as far away as Abingdon have begun to arrive in Travisville to back up the local crews, suggesting casualties may be significant.”

  Delilah dropped into the nearest chair, staring at the raging fire on the television screen. What had once been the Cortland Lumber showroom was a roaring inferno. Lumber, once stacked in neat rows in front of the office, lay shattered and strewn across the yard, dotting the ground with dozens of small, outlying fires.

  “When did it happen?” she asked Sutton, who stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder.

  “About an hour ago.”

  Not long after she and Brand had gotten away.

  If she’d gone to face down Cortland as she’d originally planned, she might very well be dead.

  * * *

  THE HOLDING CELL was small but mostly clean, a sign that the Bitterwood jail saw only light and sporadic use. Brand had the whole cell block to himself and was amused that the sound of footsteps ringing through the cell block came as a relief.

  The uniformed guard walking down the cell-block corridor was of average height and build, with a sandy beard, sharp hazel eyes and a look of single-minded determination. If Brand hadn’t recognized the newcomer, he’d have been certain he was about to be assassinated, for the bearded man had a distinctly dangerous air. Even upon recognizing his visitor, he wasn’t sure he was going to make it out of the Bitterwood jail alive.