Born to Die

by Winter Austin

  “Cassy?”

  She pulled her gaze from Liam to look at Nic. The strain on her sister’s features twisted Cassy’s gut. She was about to be told something she wouldn’t like to hear.

  “I don’t mean to drop more on you, but ... ” Nic finger-combed her messy brown hair. “The General and Emma are coming in two days.”

  Wincing, Cassy sat forward and set her mug on the table with a thunk. “It’s a little early for them to be coming for Christmas.”

  “I asked them to come early. Con and I … Cassy, I’m pregnant again.”

  The news stole Cassy’s breath. It shouldn’t surprise her, not one bit. Nic was considerably older than her, pushing forty to be exact, and her sister and Con wanted as many kids as they could have before she wasn’t able.

  “Would you say something?”

  Jolting out of her shock, Cassy smiled. “Congrats.”

  “You don’t sound too excited.”

  “About Pop coming, I’m not. I’m happy that I’m going to be an aunt again. I love Liam.”

  Nic’s sigh was heavy with relief. “I know it’s going to be hard having him here, but—”

  “Don’t worry about me, Nic. I’ll get through it just like I did for the wedding and when Liam was born.” Cassy pushed up from the chair. “I’m going home. Thanks for coffee and breakfast.” She ruffled Liam’s soft, brown curls.

  “Cassy,” Nic stopped her, “what happened two years ago was supposed to be a fluke. Don’t let Wallis’s death get to you.”

  Cassy fingered the raised scar on her cheek then jerked her hand down. “I’ll be okay, Nic. I’ve got Con and Nash, and you.”

  • • •

  Boyce downed the last of his coffee, turning to the next page of the McIntire County Reporter sports section. Across from him, Liza scrolled through her messages on her phone and ate French toast drenched in fresh maple syrup and butter. He wouldn’t have been a good tour guide if he didn’t introduce her to Betty Lamar’s diner and Betty’s fabulous cooking. When they were done here, they were heading to the only hotel in Eider to get rooms.

  “More coffee?”

  He looked up at the young waitress wearing jeans and a bright yellow T-shirt with the diner’s logo on the left shoulder. The girl couldn’t be much over twenty—college-aged—and had a slight bulge in her belly. His brain started picking her life apart. She’d probably had big plans to get out of McIntire County, get a fancy degree in one of the big universities in Iowa, get a well-paying job, and never look back. Instead, she’d let some boy convince her he loved her so he could get into her pants, and when she told him she was pregnant he did one of two things: took responsibility as a man and told her he’d marry her, or dumped her and moved on to the next willing girl. Either way, she was stuck here trying to make her life work with a baby on the way.

  Boyce flashed her a smile and held up his mug. She filled it to the top, and as she moved on to the next table, he made a mental note to leave her a generous tip.

  “Contemplating being an altruist?” Liza set her phone on the table.

  “Why not? I have the means.”

  A knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Still haven’t changed. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why you’re so damn determined to throw your money away.”

  “It’s not throwing my money away when it’s helping ease someone’s suffering.”

  “Yet, you still suffer.”

  He paused before drinking his coffee and eyed Liza. Her meaning came through crystal clear. She’d been his partner when he met Cassy, and Liza had been the one to chew him out good for leaving Cassy. “We all suffer.”

  She huffed and then slid a store flier sitting on the table closer.

  The jangle of the bell above the door sent a ripple of awareness down Boyce’s spine. Slowly, he turned his head to peer over his shoulder. She stood in the entryway, wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses to block the glare of the sun off the snow, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail that hung past the collar of her thick, brown McIntire County deputy coat. Cassy removed her sunglasses and hooked them by an earpiece at the top of her uniform blouse. Boyce tensed as her head swiveled in his direction.

  Her blue eyes sparked, luring him in. His body warmed at the memory of those eyes, half closed as she cried out in passion. Cassy broke the trance as she moved to his table.

  “Interesting scar,” Liza said. “I don’t remember her having it the last time I saw her.”

  “It’s new.”

  “Don’t do or say anything stupid; eventually we’re going to need her and the rest of the sheriff’s department’s help with this case.” Liza stood and headed toward the restrooms.

  Boyce scowled at her as she left but relaxed his face when Cassy took Liza’s vacated seat. “Dried out and ready for a long day?” he asked.

  “I’m asking a few questions; you’re going to give me straight answers—none of this PC BS you have to give. When I’m satisfied you’ve given me the information I need, I’m leaving. Clear?”

  “I’ve been working hard in Memphis. Took a vacation in Key West last winter, got a nice tan. And then I decided I needed to see Iowa one last time. How’ve you been?”

  Anger flashed through her eyes. Her knuckles reddened, white blotches peppering her fingers. He got to her. Suddenly her hands relaxed, and she splayed her fingers on the tabletop.

  “Nice. Work me up so you can keep the upper hand.”

  “What can I say? You know me well, darlin’.”

  “Too well.”

  Shoving his empty breakfast plate aside, he closed the newspaper and gave her his full attention. “Ask away, Deputy Rivers.”

  “Did you come here for the bank robbery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you working out of the Cedar Rapids office?”

  “Temporary transfer per Cedar Rapids’s request.”

  She tried hard to feign disinterest there but failed. “How long do you plan to be in Eider?”

  “Until we get all the information we can, or we find out who robbed the bank.”

  “Do you have any intention of railroading the sheriff’s department over this murdered police officer?”

  Mercy, go for the balls. She’d been around her sister too long. Cassy was starting to sound like Nic. “I honestly swear I have no intentions whatsoever to get involved in your murder case. I’ll leave that up to you and the DCI.” He’d worked with the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigations numerous times, and those people knew what they were doing. The McIntire Sheriff’s Department was in good hands.

  “Last one.”

  Oh, how he wanted to goad her with a smart-ass remark, but he knew it might earn him a kick in the shin hard enough to break his kneecap. “Proceed.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You do your job, you stay away from me and my family, and you leave this town the same way you found it.”

  “That sounded more like an ultimatum than a question, darlin’.”

  “So it is.” Cassy stood, pulling out her sunglasses.

  As she moved to leave, Boyce’s hand shot out and snagged her arm. He turned her to look at him before she jerked free. “You’ve made your demands, but don’t think you can hide behind them. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face me on my own terms.”

  Cassy placed her hands on the edge of the table, bending down until they were almost touching noses. “I had to rebuild my life after you ran out on me a second time. Don’t think for one minute I’ll give you another inch to hang me with.” And with that, she strode out of the diner.

  Boyce barely had a chance to pull his wits about him before Liza returned.

  “Well, she left you in one piece. That’s a good sign.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Boyce muttered. He fished out his wallet, tucked a hundred under the sugar dispenser, then got up. “Let’s go. I want to secure a room and then get to the bank.”

  He would hold to Cassy’s demands to get
his job done and get out of Eider. Because the longer he stayed here—the longer he was around her—the more he was reminded of what a damn fool he was to have ever walked away from her.

  Chapter Four

  Cassy buzzed through the security door of the sheriff’s department. Her entry brought Sheriff Hamilton out of his office.

  “What are you doing here? I swore I sent you home for some rest.”

  “Yeah, well, I couldn’t sleep. It’s bugging the hell out of me, what happened to Wallis.”

  Two heads appeared from around the bullpen dividers. Cassy faltered a step, gaping at Jennings and Nash.

  “Looks like you’re not the only one,” Hamilton said, gesturing for her to join their group.

  “All we’re missing is Jolie.”

  Jolie Murdoch was a cop-in-training, going the junior college, night classes route. In the meantime, she worked as the station’s dispatcher. Cassy enjoyed having the redhead around; it helped balance the women-to-men ratio in the department.

  “She’s on a sandwich run,” Nash said. “She offered to get us the brain fuel.”

  A national sub sandwich chain had moved into Eider six months ago. Far as they could tell, it was doing well for their small town. The city council was hoping for big results so more restaurant chains would move in and boost the lagging economy.

  Cassy caught the rolling chair Nash pushed toward her and flopped down on it. She ached from head to toe after standing all night, she was bone-weary, and she needed copious amounts of coffee to power her through the day, but her brain wouldn’t shut down.

  “What were you discussing that I missed?” she asked, nodding to Hamilton when he handed her a steaming mug of joe.

  Hamilton sat in an empty chair, leaned back with his hands resting on his chest and his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. “Jennings, here, has a theory he was about to tell us.”

  “What’s that?” she pressed.

  Deputy Adam Jennings had long since lost his greenness to the job. A rigorous year of Nic breaking him in had turned him into a solid cop. One Cassy was glad to work alongside.

  “From what I’ve gathered, these gas station robberies—we’re up to four now—are being done by the same people.”

  “Makes sense. Do you think the bank robbery is related?” Hamilton asked.

  Jennings shrugged.

  “It’s hard to say,” Cassy piped up. “The bank wasn’t just a smash-and-grab like the gas stations.”

  “If they are connected, our visiting FBI agents will figure that out. We keep our focus on what we need to at this point.” Hamilton rotated his finger in the air to move it along. “What else do you have for us, Jennings?”

  Jennings leaned forward, bracing his elbow on his knees. “What if Wallis’s murder is connected to last night’s station robbery?”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out, but we need to find the connection,” Hamilton said. “I didn’t get a chance to question the clerk working last night.”

  “Neither did I,” Jennings added. “Agent Bartholomew was too busy ‘getting caught up’ on what had happened.”

  Hamilton shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. The clerk knows where we are, and we know how to get ahold of him. As of right now, Eider PD is calling in all able bodies to help. The chief and I are working out the details. He’s worried someone is going to lose their cool over this. Wallis was well liked, and PD has a few hotheads on duty.”

  “Con should be able to keep them calm,” Cassy said.

  “Let’s hope so.” Hamilton sighed. “What I don’t like is Agent Hunt being involved. Our history with him has proven he’ll want to aid us in the murder investigation.”

  “No, he won’t.” All three men frowned at her. Cassy shrugged a shoulder. “I had a brief conversation with him before coming here. He’s aware this isn’t his duty, and he’s assured me he won’t cross the boundaries.”

  “After what happened the last time he was here, you believe him?” Jennings asked.

  The skeptical expression on Hamilton’s face backed Jennings’s question. All three knew as much as she wanted them to know about her history with Boyce—Nic and Con knew more than anyone, but even that was less than half. There were just some things best kept close to the heart. What Hamilton and Jennings remembered was the way Boyce left her after she was shot.

  “Have to give him the benefit of the doubt. Worse comes to worst, I sic Nic on him.” Her response garnered a few chuckles. It was Nic’s nature to be the enforcer, protector of her little sister. And as much as Cassy hated it some days, she welcomed the return of the Nic she remembered.

  “There’s a huge flaw to keeping Agent Hunt out of the investigation,” Nash pointed out, “because if Jennings’s theory is right and Wallis’s murder is connected to the gas station robberies and we learn those are connected to the bank, then the Feds will get involved.”

  Hamilton moved out of his relaxed position to sit upright. “Then we deal with it when the time comes. First, let’s find the bastards who murdered one of our own.” He got out of the chair and turned to the dry-erase board. “Police chief hasn’t confirmed it yet, but I think he’ll be having O’Hanlon assist us on this one. DCI has finished gathering as much evidence they could find in the snow. We’ll split the work up as much as we can between us. Jennings, I want you to keep on the station robberies.” He uncapped a black marker, wrote each of their names on the board, and then scribbled their assigned duties.

  Cassy placed her empty mug on the desk next to her. Hamilton assigned her to work with DCI on evidence processing and join Nash on interviews.

  “We’ll divvy up duties with O’Hanlon if he joins us. I’m going to take the autopsy,” Hamilton added.

  “Sir, is there any way we can get ahold of Wallis’s reports for the last year or so?” Jennings asked.

  “Chief is working on getting those together. Since this took place outside city limits, he’s wanting to keep Eider PD involvement to a minimum. Too many sticky situations can come up with everyone in that department grieving and pissed off.” Hamilton faced them. “Folks, we’ve dealt with murder before, but I don’t think the people of McIntire County are ready to deal with it again. We do this to the best of our abilities, and by the book. I don’t want anyone getting away with murder in my county.”

  • • •

  Boyce’s gaze traveled over the scene, his brain documenting and sorting what he saw: the missing windows where bullets had shattered them, the blue-covered wall and floor where the terrified teller had activated the exploding dye packs, the brown stain on the carpet near the front desk—blood from the poor male employee who tried to play hero and was bludgeoned by a gunstock to the head. As of last check with the hospital, that employee was alive, but doctors feared he’d suffered some brain damage.

  The once bright and neat Christmas decorations either hung askew on the walls or had been damaged by bullets. Boyce noted that shards of colored glass still littered the carpet in places. Eider Savings Bank had limited customer service because of the robbery and was in the process of repairing the damage the robbers had inflicted on the building. Boyce would view the security video later; right now, he wanted a clear mental map of the bank’s layout.

  Turning, he spotted Liza speaking with the bank manager in a closed conference room. Before Boyce joined the investigation, Liza had already gone over the videos and photos the Eider police sent to the Cedar Rapids office. She’d kept her opinions to herself, knowing he had to analyze things his own way.

  From what Boyce gathered, the robbers had taken their time planning this heist, going so far as to plan for a contingency like the dye packs. His initial analysis would suggest professionals. But his gut said hell no. Why would someone with experience come to Nowheresville, Iowa, to pull off a bank robbery? This had to be local. A long discussion with Hamilton and Eider’s chief of police was in order. A resident of McIntire County or a neighboring county could have aggravated theft on their record.
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  The conference-room door creaked, drawing Boyce’s attention to Liza and the manager. The mustached man was wearing a sharp suit of dark gray and polished wing tips. His graying hair gave him an air of elegance that wasn’t seen much in these parts. It unnerved Boyce, reminding him of the men his mother associated with, or worse, married.

  “Agent Hunt.” The manager held out his hand. Boyce took it, taken aback by the strength coming from a man with a hand as smooth as glass. “Don’t hesitate to ask for anything. My staff and I are here to assist you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Clyde. Agent Bartholomew and I will keep that in mind.” Boyce nodded to the plywood-covered window frames. “Were you here when the robbery took place?”

  “Sadly, no; I was dealing with a personal matter. The bank employees who were working Monday are still shaken by the events. I gave them a few days to recover.”

  “If it isn’t too much trouble, could you have them come in this afternoon? Agent Bartholomew and I would like to interview them.”

  The manager nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” With that, he excused himself and moved to speak with the contractor working on the repairs.

  “What are you thinking, southern boy?” Liza asked. “I can see the gears churning in your head.”

  “Too many things. And many I don’t want to voice in public.” He pulled his tablet from under his arm, activated the home screen, and accessed the case files he’d downloaded. Pictures scrolled across the screen, images DCI had taken as soon as they arrived. Boyce minimized the photo program and tapped on the documents. “I want to talk with the responding officers tomorrow. They’ll need the day to recover from the incident last night.”

  “Just tell me who to contact, and I’ll set it up.” She looked around the bank. “Are you done here?”

  “Yes. Let’s head to the police department and politely ask the chief if we could borrow an empty room to watch the security footage.”