by Diana Palmer
“Oh, brother,” she said heavily.
“So then Copper had to cover it up. He faked an automobile accident, destroyed her body so that she wouldn’t be recognized and went about his business. The senator was probably horrified when he knew what his right-hand man had done, but he couldn’t afford a scandal—he’d just been elected state senator and he had a much higher office in his sights. He saw a whole new world of financial stability opening up for him. The girl would have cost him his career. He wasn’t having it ruined by some teen who threatened to go to the news media.”
“But, your little girl,” she began.
His jaw clenched. “Monica used to go with a boy who worked for Senator Sanders. He and Hank were friends. Hank told him what happened, and he told Monica. I didn’t know it at the time, not until today, when your mother dug it out of a closed file and called me on my cell phone to tell me about it. Monica’s ex-boyfriend was killed, but before he died, he spoke with a detective and said he had information about the death of a teenager who’d been disfigured to cover up her identity.”
“Oh, no,” she said, because she realized where this was going.
“That’s right. Hank figured that if Monica knew the truth, she might talk. So he sent a couple of men over, maybe Jay Copper included, to make sure she didn’t. My daughter was there with her. She wasn’t a target, she was just in the way.” He bit his lower lip. “They didn’t count on the Jacobsville victim falling in love, getting religion and talking to a minister.”
“If Marquez hadn’t gone to the media about the minister, he’d be dead, too.”
“No doubt about it.”
“Pat told me that a moldy old family retainer was threatening a minister who was drawing pictures he shouldn’t. Not much guesswork involved in figuring out who, or why,” she said.
“Yes. I phoned Jon and told him to get a tail on the minister, just in case.”
“Good for you.” She shook her head. “All those people, all dead, because of a teenager who woke up too soon and had to be silenced.”
“Yes. The worst of it was they didn’t find out who the girl really was until three years after she was killed. Her parents were dead by then. They’d thought their daughter was kidnapped. They joined support groups and pestered the police to find her. Then, they died in a horrendous automobile accident in a snowstorm in Colorado, before they could learn the truth.”
She closed her eyes. “Dear God. And he got away with it.”
“No, he didn’t,” Kilraven said in the coldest voice she’d ever heard.
“But there are no witnesses left,” she argued. “If they can silence the senator’s wife…”
“That’s why we’re going to Oklahoma,” he said. “They aren’t silencing her.”
Her dark eyes glittered with feeling. “They should put the senator and his brother away for a hundred years!”
“I’m all for that. But there’s a very real possibility that the senator had no idea what his brother planned to do.”
“That’s chilling. But he tried to stop the investigation.”
“He was protecting his brother,” he said. He sighed. “I’d do the same for Jon.” He glanced at her. “You’d do it for Boone, or Clark or Matt.”
She nodded. “What about my uncle? How is he tied into this, do you know?”
He shook his head. “He probably knew someone in the chain, but he didn’t know anything specific enough to make him a target. The only connection we have is the thermos. And that could turn out to be a blind alley. He might have loaned it to the murder victim.”
“I like Pat,” she said. “I hope we can save her.” She glanced at him. “Couldn’t you call the FBI?”
“And tell them what? That we have a possible murder? I didn’t get tape, Winnie. It’s your word against the senator’s best attorneys. He’d sue the hell out of the Bureau if I brought Jon in on it.” He didn’t add that he knew Garon Grier had been seen with Hank Sanders just recently. That was still a puzzle to him.
She ground her teeth together. “You’re a spy! Don’t you know other spies who could help?”
He chuckled. “I’m not a spy. I’m an intelligence operative.”
“Semantics!” she argued.
He pursed his lips. “I don’t think anyone inside the law could do us much good. However, I do know a few people outside it.”
“Maybe the senator’s evil brother does, too.”
“No. These are good guys. I ought to know,” he added as he started punching numbers into his cell phone. “I trained every damned one of them. Hello? Put Rourke on the line.”
IT WAS A ROLLER-COASTER ride for Winnie, who’d never dreamed that she’d be caught up in a murder investigation that put her own life on the line. It was exciting, just the same.
They landed at the Lawton-Fort Sill Regional Airport. Kilraven, too impatient to wait for one of the ranch hands to drive to town and get them, rented a Lincoln and they drove to the ranch at what she termed warp speeds, to Kilraven’s amusement.
It was a surprise to Winnie, who was used to their own large ranch holdings. Now she understood why Kilraven found it so easy to fit in at society parties. The ranch, Raven’s Pride, was built like a Spanish hacienda with many graceful arches sheltering a long, wide front porch. It was so big that it filled the horizon as they approached it. The pastures were fenced and those leading down the half mile of paved road to the ranch itself were white, spotless. On each side of the road, beautiful purebred Black Angus cattle grazed on fresh bales of hay. Their drinking water was in heated containers.
“It’s amazing,” Winnie said, staring out the window. “It makes our ranch look like a toy one!”
He chuckled. “It’s been here for over a hundred and fifty years,” he told her. “I’ll tell you the history one day. It has to do with ravens who actually called wolves to sites of carrion, so they could get to the good parts after the wolves did the dirty work. Jon and I can’t bear to part with it, although we don’t spend much time here. We have a competent manager and submanagers in charge of routine operations.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He smiled. “Cammy keeps the furnishings up to date. Oh, boy,” he added with a grimace. “That’s her car.” It was a sleek Mercedes, gold and custom, parked at the front door.
“Not to worry,” Winnie said easily. “My blades need sharpening before I attack anyone.”
It took him a minute to get it, then he grinned. His wife was full of surprises.
He pulled up to the front porch and helped Winnie out. He threw the keys to a tall, lanky cowboy. “Bring the bags in, then put it in the garage, Rory.”
“Yes, sir.”
He led Winnie inside, where Cammy was waiting, her arms folded tight across her breasts.
“We’re only here for a couple of days,” Kilraven said at once.
“No problem, I was just leaving,” Cammy said tautly.
“That might be best,” he said. He bent and kissed her on the cheek. “We’re about to stick our noses into a highly explosive situation with a senator’s wife next door. She’s the key to solving what happened to Melly.”
Cammy dropped her haughty pose immediately. “Oh, no, you mustn’t get yourself killed,” she said worriedly.
“It’s the only chance I have of breaking the case,” he said gently.
Cammy looked past him at Winnie. “You’re going to risk her life, too?” she asked uneasily. “You just got married!”
“It’s not a real marriage,” Winnie said quietly. “We had to convince the senator’s wife that we had a legitimate reason to be in Nassau.”
“But you’re married,” Cammy argued. She looked up at Kilraven, aghast. “She is a little chain saw,” she said surprisingly, “but she’s just what you need. You should keep her.”
Winnie’s jaw had dropped.
Cammy looked at her and shifted uncomfortably. “We’re all difficult, in this family,” she explained. “Both my sons are hard cases. Yo
u can’t let them walk on you.”
“No problem,” Winnie said, recovering her poise. “My father didn’t raise me to be a carpet.”
Cammy actually smiled. “I’ve been talking to your mother,” she said, surprising her. “A truly amazing woman.” She looked up at Kilraven, who was also shocked. “She couldn’t get you on your cell phone, so she called here. She says one of her contacts got word that Senator Sanders’s brother was on his way to the Sanderses’ home place, and he wasn’t alone.”
“When did she call?” Kilraven asked.
“About ten minutes ago.”
He went to the gun case in the living room, unlocked it and started pulling out weapons. At the same time, he pulled out his cell phone, grimacing when he realized that he’d had it cut off, and activated it. He phoned the chief of police at the Lawton Police Department, a friend of his, and briefed him on the problem. He listened, his expression growing colder. He didn’t reply to what he’d been advised to do, he simply hung up.
He started loading guns.
Winnie stood next to Cammy, uncertain.
“You’re not going to wade in there shooting,” Winnie said worriedly.
“Not unless somebody shoots at me first.” He cocked the big .45 automatic and slid it into the shoulder holster he’d just put on. He reached for another weapon, which looked like a small automatic rifle.
Winnie stood straighter. “I’m going with you.”
Cammy gaped at her. “No!”
“No!” Kilraven said at the same time.
“I can phone Pat and pretend that I’m taking her up on her invitation to visit,” she said quickly. “You can hide in the backseat. I’ll let you out before I reach the house.”
He frowned. This wasn’t working out the way he’d planned. The idea of Winnie being in the line of fire was suddenly horrifying to him.
“I’m going alone,” he gritted.
“No, you are not!” she returned. She grabbed him by both arms and actually shook him. “You’re thinking with your heart, not your mind. You have to be logical. They’ll be expecting you to walk in with guns blazing if they overheard Pat talking to me. You’ll get yourself killed. What will that accomplish?”
He didn’t reply. His eyes were glittering.
“You can let me wear a wire,” she said. “I can get tape.”
Now he did react, badly. “No. No way in hell.”
“If you want a conviction, this is the only way, since all the witnesses are dead!”
He’d wanted nothing more than a conviction. Until right now, when he looked down at the slight figure of his wife. She was so young, so brave. He pictured her the way he’d last seen Monica, face up, mutilated by a shotgun blast…
“I won’t let you,” he said curtly. “I won’t risk your life, not even for a conviction.”
Winnie’s eyebrows arched. “Well! I thought you didn’t want to be handcuffed in a closet and kept as a sex slave!”
Cammy gasped and then burst out laughing at Kilraven’s shocked expression.
“Sorry,” Winnie told her. “It’s a private joke.” She let go of Kilraven’s arms. “You have to let me do it. Too many people have died. It’s time the perpetrators were stopped.”
Kilraven hesitated.
“You have the equipment to do a wire, don’t you?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Then let’s go, before they kill Pat and get away with everything.”
Cammy came forward. “She’s right,” she told him solemnly. “If she has courage enough to do this, you must have it, too.”
The two women exchanged quiet glances.
“All right,” Kilraven said. “But you’ll do exactly as I say,” he told Winnie firmly. “I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you have.”
She saluted him.
He made a rough sound in the back of his throat and went to get the equipment.
“He’ll take care of you,” Cammy said gently.
Winnie smiled. “I know that. If I didn’t trust him, I wouldn’t have offered to go.”
Cammy touched her blond hair gently. “Nice little chain saw,” she cooed.
Winnie grinned. “You’re just buttering me up because you know I can make homemade bread.”
Cammy laughed.
KILRAVEN HAD HER wired and armed, with a small caliber pistol that fit nicely in her purse. He hoped that nobody at the old home place of Senator Sanders would search her. But if she played her part well, they might get away with it. Winnie had taken basic firearms training when she started working dispatch. She was a natural, Chief Grier had said.
He was going to exit the car within easy reach of the house while she drove up at the door. It was risky. He hated putting her in this position. But she was right. It was the only way they could bring the murderer to justice. Hank Sanders and his politician brother were going to do the time for what had happened to Melly and Monica and all the other victims.
They left Cammy in the house and walked out to the rental car together.
“Gosh, I hope it’s insured for gun battles,” Winnie thought out loud.
He winced. “Don’t say that. The whole idea is not to get in one.”
She sighed, turning to him as they reached the driver’s seat. She looked up at him with a pert little smile. “Now, do try not to get shot. If you end up in the hospital, we would have to go weeks without sex.”
He chuckled. She really was a little doll. As much as he desired her, he also liked her. Right now, he wasn’t thinking about her misplaced birth control pills or a future without her or even a return to his stressed and dangerous lifestyle. He was only thinking of today. He sobered. “You sure you want to do this?”
She nodded.
He bent and brushed his mouth very gently over hers. It felt different. He smiled as he did it again. “You drive. I’ll shoot,” he whispered, recalling an old cop movie they’d both liked and talked about in the past.
She laughed. “That’s a deal.”
She got in under the wheel and he climbed into the backseat, armed to the teeth.
“You ready?” she asked without looking over her shoulder.
“You bet. Let’s go.”
WINNIE DIALED PAT’S cell number. It rang and rang. She gritted her teeth. Her perfect plan might have just gone over the falls if Hank Sanders was already at the ranch…!
Just when she was about to give up and panic, Pat’s voice came on the line. It was flustered and quick. “Hello?”
“Hi! It’s Winnie Sinclair!” she said merrily, pretending that she didn’t have a care in the world and that nobody was eavesdropping on the call. “You said to come over when you got back from Nassau, and I beat you here!”
“W-Winnie?”
“Yes. What’s wrong?” she asked innocently. “You did invite me over to talk about that project of yours? You know, the hurricane fund, to be kept in escrow for Bahamians…?” She was making it up as she went along.
“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, I did, I’d forgotten.”
“Isn’t it convenient for me to come over now? I forgot to call. I’m already on the way.”
There was a pause, voices murmuring. Pat came back on the line. “Is anybody with you?” she asked.
“With me? Who would be…oh, you mean my husband,” she said in a harsh tone. “No, he’s not with me. He went back to San Antonio on some case. And we’re not speaking.”
“I see.”
“He can stay in San Antonio for all I care. I may go back down to Nassau. But that’s my problem, not yours. I’d love to have coffee or tea or even water with you. Just don’t mention my husband to me,” she added firmly.
Pat laughed nervously. “No. I won’t. Certainly, you can come over. Uh, you’ll need to park out front, okay? Do you know how to get here?”
“Of course,” Winnie said smartly. “I did a Google search on your ranch and got directions.” She laughed.
Pat laughed, too, but not with any humor. “Okay.
I’ll watch for you.”
“See you shortly.” Winnie hung up and let out a breath.
“Good job,” Kilraven said quietly. “Very good.”
“If we get through this, I’m lining up for a job at the FBI as a covert operative,” she told him.
“Over my dead body,” he muttered. “Okay, slow down when you get to the garage,” he said, indicating a long, low building just below the house on the driveway. “I’ll jump out. You’ve got the gun. Can you use it, if you have to?”
“I can do whatever I need to do,” she said between clenched teeth.
She felt a big hand on her shoulder. “Good to go.”
She nodded. “Good to go.”
She slowed down, just out of sight of the house, and he rolled out, closing the door gently behind him. She kept driving, her eyes on the sprawling ranch house ahead. She pulled up at the steps and cut off the engine.
As she picked up her purse and got out of the car, she noticed a big, white-headed man standing at the top of the steps. He was wearing an open-necked white shirt with dark slacks and he looked mean. Very mean.
“Hi,” Winnie said with forced cheer. “I’m Winnie Sinclair. I came to see Pat.”
“She’s inside,” the old man said in a surly tone. He jerked his head toward the front door and stepped to one side. But he gave her a look that made her skin crawl.
She nodded and walked ahead. Her knees were knocking, she knew they were. But Kilraven was out there somewhere. He would protect her.
Pat was waiting for her. “Come in,” she said with forced brightness. “How nice of you to offer to help with my project! Let’s talk in the living room.”
Winnie felt herself being led toward a window where potted plants were sitting.
“Are you crazy?” Pat whispered frantically. “Copper made some calls before I got home. Hank’s on his way up here right now…!”