‘I remember.”
“We need experts to sift through the clues before Sheriff Carver and his band of misfits come storming in here.” Holt didn’t even blink. “Cam and Shane qualify as experts.”
Just thinking about what could have happened to Roger and the need for more men started the world spinning. She reached out to lean against the doorway and spied a flannel shirt rolled up in a ball near her foot. “This is his—”
Holt stopped her before she could pick it up. “Don’t touch anything.”
“Evidence?”
“Or more traps. I don’t know what we’re looking at here.”
Holt managed to lose her again. Seemed obvious to her. “A crime scene.”
“Probably.” He pointed at the lamp turned on its side and the couch cushions tossed and sitting at strange angles. “I’m trying to figure out if it looks staged.”
A memory came zipping back. The car accident and the blood. How Roger siphoned off his own and saved it for weeks. “Oh.”
Holt’s gaze shot right to her. “Tell me.”
“He faked his own death to get out of New Foundations.” That was only a fraction of the weirdness. She delivered the rest. “I helped him do it. That’s the mission that binds me to this area when I really want to move as far away as possible.”
Holt being Holt, he didn’t show much emotion. A deeper frown, maybe, but nothing in the way of shock. “I figured as much.”
She’d told him this huge secret. A piece of information that should have unraveled who he thought she was and raised all sorts of questions. “That’s all you have to say?”
He nodded. “When we talk later, that will be one of the topics.”
That was starting to look like a really long future conversation. But she couldn’t think about that now. Could barely think about anything as she stood there, trying to fight off the need to double over and try to catch her breath. “What now?”
“We back out and let my men check the scene. They’ll grab anything that implicates you or points to Roger’s past, since I’m thinking you want all that hidden.”
She didn’t fight it. “Yes.”
“Then do not move.” He took one step, and an agonizing creak rang out under his heel. “I mean it.”
“I plan on listening to you from now on.”
His eyes narrowed. “I want to believe you.”
She didn’t touch that. Watched him travel around the small two-room space instead. He conducted a visual tour of each surface and snapped photos before coming back to stand next to her. “There’s no body. Plenty of signs of a struggle but no drag marks in or out.”
She had no idea how he picked all that up in a two-minute visual scan. “That’s a horrible sentence.”
“I don’t disagree.” He glanced at his watch. “Time to go.”
She didn’t question him, mostly because she didn’t want to stand in the middle of the macabre scene with the ransacked cabin and the papers strewn everywhere. And the blood. She might see that puddle every day for the rest of her life.
He made it sound easy, but retracing their steps took almost as long as getting to the cabin. It probably didn’t help that she’d turned into a shaking mess. What little she was able to hold it together back at Roger’s house abandoned her the farther away she got. A trembling started deep in her bones and moved through her entire body.
By the time she got back to her car and tried to pull out her keys, she was a mess. She dropped the set twice. The third time they jangled so loudly in her palm that Holt removed them with a gentle touch. When he suggested she ride with him and he have his men, whoever they were, return her car, she jumped at it.
The long drive back to her house passed in slow sections. She dreaded he’d start that conversation he was so desperate to have. But he didn’t. He turned on the heat, despite the time of year, and let the radio play softly in the background.
It took until they’d almost reached home for her to realize this qualified as his attempt to put her at ease. He didn’t rapid-fire questions at her or demand answers. He let her do battle with the adrenaline coursing through her.
She was about to thank him when she saw the man. Tall and almost as sturdy as Holt. This guy had light brown hair but stood in a battle position that was now so familiar to her—legs apart and hands on hips as the perfect scowl formed on his lips.
The man was handsome and muscular. Very fit. Had a bit of a boyish-charm look to him, while Holt wore that stern countenance a lot of the time. Still, she couldn’t help thinking this guy and Holt knew each other. “Who is that?”
“He’s with me.” Holt parked the car and turned off the engine. “And it’s very bad he’s here.”
That was the last thing she wanted to hear. She tried to form a question, but nothing came out. She used up all her energy opening the door and somehow getting out.
“What’s up?” Holt frowned and walked at the same time. “You’re supposed to be out with Cam conducting some forensics on that cabin.”
“Ma’am.” The guy nodded at her before returning his full attention to Holt. “We have a new problem.”
Holt swore in a voice just above a whisper. “Another one?”
“What is it?” Lindsey asked at the same time.
The guy looked at her then. “There’s a dead body on your property.”
Chapter Seven
So many questions bombarded Holt’s brain. He wanted to know more about this Roger person and how he’d got out of the camp. Holt also needed more insight into Lindsey. He wanted to sleep with her. Kiss her, touch her, hold her in bed and talk with her. His sudden need for that last one made him twitchy, but there was so much about her, her life and this situation he didn’t know.
Walking now between her and Shane struck Holt as strange. He’d introduced them and watched as they shook hands. Holt ignored the “nice job” man-to-man look Shane shot him.
They’d been friends for a long time. They’d known each other and served together for a short stint. Now they worked on the same team, spent a lot of their free time hanging out and had the same goals.
They also shared a similar sensibility about relationships. Neither wanted one. Cam had been with them right up until the point he’d met Julia and then lost his mind.
Holt had watched as the men of Corcoran—the toughest guys either of them knew—get ripped apart by their love for their women. Strong, intelligent men shredded and a mess as they ran around trying to get these amazing women back.
Holt and Shane joked about it. It was embarrassing and Holt didn’t want any part of it.
The idea of being vulnerable for a woman, of putting everything on the line, had him mentally throwing up a wall. He liked all the women his friends ended up with and understood why the guys loved them. The matches made sense.
It was the wall of fire they walked through to be together that made no sense to Holt. Why would anyone willingly take that on? He’d never met any woman who turned him around and had him thinking that would be a good idea.
But then he met Lindsey.
She counted as a wild card. He’d never known anyone like her. Even now, as they walked the line of the property and closed in on a section by the water, Holt’s mind rolled. He thought back to the things she’d said and the way she acted in danger. So in charge yet human. The combination had him dropping to his knees.
Not that he planned to let either of the people with him know. He’d rather welcome the silence.
“It’s Roger,” she whispered into the silence.
“We don’t know that.” Though Holt did think it had to be. A person didn’t lose that much blood and live to talk about it. He might have faked his death before, but this was another level.
Shane pushed the branches aside and kept walking. Didn’t say anything, as if leaving them to hold a private conversation even though he hovered right there.
She shook her head. “I should have checked in on him sooner.”
Wi
thout thinking, Holt reached over and took her hand. Slipped his fingers through hers and felt the coolness of her skin and the jumpiness of her raw nerves. She jerked at the contact but didn’t let go. No, she tightened her hand around his and held on.
Since he couldn’t think of anything smart to say and since he spent part of the time scanning the surroundings for signs of trouble, he figured silence was the best solution anyway. As they got closer to the lake’s small shore, Holt saw the body. Crumpled in a heap as the water lapped over his legs.
Definitely a male and not a small one. His face was turned away and the body appeared to be soaked through, either from the night’s rain or being in the lake. Too hard to tell without more tests. But Holt was looking at a large form wearing dark clothes, which described a lot of men in this part of Oregon.
Lindsey stopped. Holt didn’t notice until he almost yanked hard on her arm. He dropped her hand and turned to her. Shane wore an expression of concern and Holt guessed he had one of his own.
He watched the color drain from her cheeks and he leaned in closer to make sure she didn’t pass out or something equally bad. “What is it?”
“That’s not Roger.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Shane asked.
Holt wasn’t so sure. Roger as the victim made sense. They could make those connections and draw those lines. A dead stranger on her property brought up more questions and increased the danger level.
Holt preferred to fight against a known quantity. Someone with an agenda—revenge, greed, a cause or whatever—could be trapped if you found the right bait. Not so easy with the unknown.
Rather than guess, Holt snapped into action. He walked over to the body, careful not to disturb the scene more than necessary, and crouched down. His gaze traveled, looking for signs of injury other than the obvious gunshot wound to the back of the guy’s head. Any identification would help, though the lake had likely carried that away.
He got his phone out, prepared to take photos and prints and send them back to Connor for analysis. When his gaze landed on the dead guy’s face, Holt knew he didn’t need to worry about the identification. His mind raced as he went through every interaction and conversation. He remembered the threats the last time they’d met.
One thing was clear, their lives were about to explode. Blow right out into the open. So much for Lindsey wanting to live under the radar. Those days might be over. Holt just hoped his cover held long enough to figure all this out.
He motioned for Shane to bring Lindsey closer.
She walked in measured steps with her hand locked on Shane’s arm as she stumbled over the loose rocks. “What is it?”
“Not what, who.” Holt stood up. “Grant.”
“The guy that attacked you at the house and then you caught sneaking around?” Shane made a hmmphing sound as he dropped down to conduct his own visual inspection of the body.
“Gunshot to the back of the head,” Holt said, stating the obvious.
Shane glanced up at Lindsey. “Holt said you’re a good shot. Where’s your gun?”
“At the house.” She tore her attention away from the lifeless body and glared at Shane. “Do you think I did it?”
“No, but others might.” Holt understood where Shane was going with his thinking and mentally followed along. This scene had all the hallmarks of a trap.
“Why would I kill this guy?” She yelled the question loud enough for her voice to carry through the trees. The steady clap of the water against the rocks played in the background as the breeze blew through, but she stood perfectly still.
Shane stood up. “Someone will have a theory.”
“Meaning?” Some of the confidence left her voice.
Never one to mince words, Shane didn’t do it now either. “You’re about to be set up.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Lindsey snorted. When the men continued to stand there, she looked to Holt, who nodded. “Wait, you agree?”
Holt realized he’d have to spell it out. This was a delicate balance between keeping her calm and telling her what she needed to do so she could act. Unfortunately, he didn’t do delicate. “I think Grant here got on the wrong side of someone at the campground. Maybe this is payment for not grabbing you the other night.”
“Okay.” She made the word last for three syllables.
He could see she still didn’t get it. Her brain probably rebelled because of all the violence she’d seen. He couldn’t blame her for shutting down. Normal people didn’t think things through, looking for every evil angle. “And now he’s on your property.”
“It’s a message or the beginning of a trap, maybe both,” Shane said, speaking slower and softer than usual. He didn’t do delicate either, but he possessed more tact, which might help in this situation.
For a second Lindsey stared at the rhythmic falling of the small waves before turning back to Holt. “So, what do we do?”
“Go look for your gun and—”
Shane scoffed at that. “I’ll bet you a thousand dollars it’s not where you think it is.”
She shook her head. “I have a security system.”
“So?” Shane practically laughed. “I won’t tell you how easy it is to manipulate and get around those.”
So much for tact. Holt ignored the interruptions and got the rest of his thought out. “Then we call Deputy Carver.”
Now he stood back and waited for Lindsey’s reaction. He predicted it wouldn’t be great. Not that he could blame her. They’d hit her with one bad piece after another. Anyone would buckle.
Instead of screaming the tall trees down around them, she shook her head. “He’s useless.”
Holt counted on that. Competency meant finding clues and solving the crime, and if someone really was leading law enforcement in Lindsey’s direction, Holt needed to slow that progress down. He needed someone who lingered a step behind, and the deputy seemed like the man for the job. “Let’s hope so, because I have a feeling we’re going to need someone who’s not smart enough to follow obvious clues.”
Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Frank Jr. is perfect, then.”
“Interesting reaction.” Shane frowned. “Sounds like a town called Justice doesn’t have much of it.”
Holt couldn’t agree more. “Which is why we’re here to help.”
* * *
SIMON TOOK ONE look at Deputy Carver and thought it was almost unfair how easy the next few minutes were going to be. The elder Carver was someone Simon understood well. He had a singular focus and knew the world didn’t always break down into easily definable categories of right and wrong. He could not be managed, but his young son could be.
The young deputy was about to fall into a pile of trouble if he didn’t obey the simple rules. Simon motioned for him to take a seat.
“What is it?” Simon asked after growing weary of Frank just standing there, twisting his hands together.
“There’s been some trouble on the Pike property.”
Simon knew all about the body and the chaos. Lindsey would no longer be able to hide, which was exactly the point of the exercise. “We’ve talked about the pros and cons of you coming to my office during the day.”
“I followed all the requirements you put in place. No one thinks I’m here on official business. I made it clear this was a social call.”
Always nice to have rule-abiding people on his payroll. Simon got a special kick out of taking his relationship with Frank Sr. one generation down and influencing the son, as well. Some people proved easy to purchase. “Tell me about Lindsey Pike.”
Frank Jr. lowered his arms and balanced his hands on the back of the chair in front of him. “There’s been a murder and it impacts you.”
Little slowed Simon down. This wouldn’t either. “How?”
“The victim is Grant.”
No surprise there. Simon had given the order. He was just grateful this one had been carried out. “Tell me exactly what you’re saying.”
“Someone shot Gr
ant in the back of the head and dumped his body next to the waterline near Lindsey’s cottage.”
Simon didn’t care about this news. It didn’t impact him at all, except as he could use it to get what he wanted from Lindsey. “What did she see?”
The deputy frowned but was smart enough not to ask too many questions. “Nothing.”
“And Hank?” They’d likely serve as alibis for each other. That didn’t mean they weren’t in it together. Or at least that was the seed he intended to plant...right now.
The deputy shook his head, as if trying to understand the question. “You know about those two?”
The profound lack of faith in him and his skills had Simon thinking he needed to show more strength. So few people even saw him outside camp. Inside he’d become a figurehead and an inspiration, both an example and an ongoing threat. “I know about everyone on my payroll. Every detail. Every secret they don’t want me to know.”
“There’ll be an investigation.”
They’d finally hit on a point that interested Simon. He leaned back in his chair. “Does Lindsey have an alibi?”
Frank Jr.’s hands tightened on the chair until his fingers turned red. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve heard she’s an expert shot.” The woman’s skills in running and hiding proved impressive, but those days were coming to an end.
“As are a lot of people around in this county, including people who live on your property.”
Simon couldn’t afford to let the deputy’s mind wander in that direction. “I wasn’t going to mention this, but Grant had a problem at her house.”
“Meaning?”
Just as expected, he took the bait. Simon had to bite back his smile of satisfaction. “He went over there to deliver some information to Hank about work. Hank and Lindsey took exception. They threatened him.”
Frank Jr. leaned forward. “What did they say?”
“I wasn’t there. I just got the impression Hank made the usual guy threats about staying away from his woman, but Lindsey...well...” Simon tapped his pen against the armrest. Drew out the scene, letting the deputy come to him for each morsel.
“What?”
“She threatened to shoot Grant.”
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