Chelsea Lane (Haunted Hearts Series Book 5)

by Denise Moncrief

  He groaned. He’d just paid off the note two months ago. Were the idiots going to wreck his vehicle? Maybe he should have gotten Brett to follow him in the car instead of telling him to get into the back of the van with the women, but he’d wanted to get the women some help as quickly as possible. That’s what he’d have wanted someone to do if one of the women had been his sister.

  His sister. Who was using her cell phone to rattle him? The guys tailing him? If so, how could they possibly know he was Kristie’s brother? No, it appeared they were too busy punching each other.

  No, it didn’t make sense for those guys to have her phone. When her car had been located and the Arkansas Highway Patrol had processed it for evidence, they’d found her cellphone on the floorboard wedged beneath the front seat.

  ****

  Chelsea pushed aside the rock near the back door of the house. The key was right where it had always been. Her eyes shifted right and then left. If someone was watching her brother’s house, the person was keeping well hidden.

  She hadn’t been able to stay another second in the hollow behind the barn. Too many bad experiences had caused her to become claustrophobic over the last few years. Once she’d made up her mind to venture out of her hiding place, nothing could have stopped her.

  It was her fear that had driven her to hide, but what did she have to be afraid of in her brother’s house? She was just as safe there as she was anywhere. She had the shotgun she’d found at Cooley’s. At least, Jordan hadn’t taken it away from her.

  As she slipped through the back door and into the kitchen, she drew in a deep breath. It had been a long time since she’d entered a place that smelled so much like home. The distinct aromas of a farm had always permeated the house. Hay. Manure. Earth. And just a hint of fried chicken. A musty odor overlay all those old smells. She shifted her feet on the worn wood boards beneath her. The more things changed the more they stayed the same.

  Her heart hurt. The pasture behind the barn was empty. When had Brett sold their cattle? He must have had to get rid of the herd to pay the bills. In school, the herd had been what had labeled her a country hick instead of one of the rich kids whose family’s owned acres of land outside of town.

  Fairview High had one of the most entrenched caste systems on the planet. Farmers and ranchers were at the bottom of the social ladder. She’d tried out for junior varsity cheerleader, hoping to fit in with the more popular kids. Nothing could have prepared her for the pain she felt when she learned not a single vote had been cast for her. She’d tried being friendly with the boys, but that only got her a reputation for being easy that soon changed to a reputation for being unwilling once they’d found out the rumors were false. It wasn’t long before everyone shunned her.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she rubbed the corners to keep them from developing into a sob-fest. High school was the past. Her future was ahead of her. What she did now would define who she would become. She was smart enough to know that. Maybe she hadn’t finished high school, but she’d learned a few things during her captivity.

  She wandered through the rooms, torturing herself with memories of the past and familiarizing herself with the changes Brett had made since her disappearance. It was weird to think of her experience as her disappearance. She’d never truly disappeared. She’d known where she was the whole time, and where she had been was a bad place to be. No matter where she’d gone, she was always there. A person can’t outrun what she doesn’t like about herself.

  Finally, she managed enough nerve to enter her grandpa’s bedroom. From the looks of things, Brett hadn’t been in the room in a long time, if ever. A blanket of dust covered every exposed surface. She patted the old quilt on the bed and a cloud puffed upward. Her nose tingled and she sneezed. Rubbing her snot on the back of her sleeve, she turned first one way and then the other. Where to start?

  She poked around in all the drawers and the tops of the closets, unsure of what she was searching for. Her quest had begun with idle curiosity, wanting to know what kind of things her grandfather thought were important enough to keep. There were no pictures in the room of family. No knick-knacks. Nothing personal to detract from the barrenness of the furnishings. The only color in the room was the old quilt her grandmother had sewn and put on the bed when her grandparents were first married.

  The room was devoid of sentiment, just like the old man had been.

  When she reached beneath the bed, her fingers wrapped around a cardboard box. She yanked it out, sat with her legs crisscrossed on the floor, and then placed the box in front of her. The lid came off with a hard tug.

  Pulling first one letter and then another out of the box, she could hardly believe what she’d found. Bunches of letters addressed to Brett or to her. All of them from her mother. A woman she had come to hate for running away and leaving her with the Duncans. Her heart pushed her to read them, but her mind screamed a warning. Why inflict even more hurt on herself? Her mother had left. That’s all she needed to know.

  She stuffed the letters back into the box and shoved it back under the bed.

  With some effort, she pushed her tired body to stand. Where was Brett? She wanted to ask him if he’d ever seen the letters or read them.

  They had a lot of catching up to do. When this was over, would she be able to come back home and live with Brett for a while? Just until she figured out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

  A new thought hit her. When the cops found out she’d helped bury those women, would she be charged with something…she wasn’t sure what…and go to jail? She shuddered. She didn’t think she’d do well in jail. Now that she’d had a new taste of freedom, she wanted to stay free. Maybe she should run.

  So many new ideas zoomed around her head. She dropped into a chair at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. How long before Brett returned? She couldn’t just wait around doing nothing, couldn’t wait to see what would happen, to find out if she would be allowed to decide what happened to her next.

  The front door rattled and shook her out of her inner thoughts. Her breath hitched. Had one of Haskins’s men found her? Was Jake Richards at the door?

  “Brett Duncan? Answer the damn door.” Zach Halsey, and he was drunk off his butt.

  She hadn’t heard his voice in a long time. The urge to confront him overwhelmed her. She was halfway to the front door when she stopped and turned around. No, she had a better idea. The moment would come when she could exact revenge on the coward, but the time hadn’t arrived just yet.

  She stood just inside the kitchen, just out of sight. When Zach kicked the door in, she didn’t move and held her breath, waiting to see what Zach would do when he found out Brett wasn’t home.

  “Duncan? Are you here?”

  Zach had aged a lot in five years, appearing much older than his twenty-two years. Did he have a guilty conscience? Did he regret what he’d done to her?

  She slipped into the pantry but left the door open just a crack so she could see into the kitchen. Zach stumbled into the room and swiveled on his heel. His face flushed, he roared with frustration.

  Another man entered her field of vision, placed a hand on Zach’s upper arm, and tried to turn him. “Come on, Zach. We have to get out of here. He ain’t home. You want someone to call the cops on us.”

  “I am a cop. Isn’t that funny?” Zach’s face turned a brighter shade of red. “I’m not leaving yet. Not until he apologizes. To my face.”

  “We shouldn’t have come out here. This was a bad idea. All you’re gonna do is get into a fight with him.”

  “Let him hit me. I’ll haul his ass off to jail.” He burped as he made his threat.

  The other man laughed behind his hand, obviously trying to hide his amusement from Zach. “You’re not taking anyone to jail soaked like you are. If the cops come out here, you’re the one going to the drunk tank.”

  Zach slapped the man’s hand off. “For years, he’s been telling people I raped and killed his sister. I
never touched her. He owes me an apology. A public apology.” He stumbled and nearly fell as he spun around to face his friend. “She’s probably one of those women that doctor killed. I didn’t do nothing to that little… I want him to tell everyone he lied about me.”

  “Don’t be stupid. You can’t confront Duncan like this. Your grandfather isn’t around to keep you out of trouble any more.” The other man hissed his objections through clenched teeth.

  Zach dropped into the chair Chelsea had just vacated. “They arrested him. For what? What did he do?” He seemed truly upset that his grandfather was in trouble.

  Halsey’s arrest was news to Chelsea. She’d heard Zeke throw Halsey’s name around a few times, but had never been sure what his connection to Cooley was. Maybe he’d been arrested for something totally unconnected to Cooley and Haskins.

  Zach’s friend continued to try to talk him down from his anxiety. “Have you talked to him?”

  “No, they won’t let me see him.”

  “Have they let him talk to anyone?”

  Zach turned a mean look on his friend. “He called for his lawyer.”

  Chelsea closed the door. She couldn’t risk them spotting her hiding place. There would be a time to confront Zach Halsey about what he’d done. She could hardly wait until that moment, but he still wasn’t ready to admit what he’d intended to do to her out on the Ridge five years ago.

  Just as Zach wanted Brett to publicly apologize to him for accusing him of murder, Chelsea wanted Zach to publicly apologize for taking her out to the Ridge and trying to force her to have sex with him. If he hadn’t, she would have never run straight into the clutches of James Standridge.

  ****

  Jordan handed over one of the men that had been tailing him to county law enforcement, an office that had been weakened of late by a series of suspensions and arrests among its ranks. Jordan didn’t know how good an idea it was to turn anyone over to the Hill County Sheriff’s Department, but he didn’t have much choice.

  No matter. Soon the FBI and ICE would step in and take the case off everyone’s hands.

  Shaw Bennett drove up just as the local cop was shoving the bad guy into the back of a patrol unit. He scanned the area, took in the scene, and then addressed Jordan. “Did they tell you where we could find Jake Richards?”

  Really? That was Bennett’s first question?

  He shook his head and Bennett made an exasperated noise.

  Maybe Jordan’s interrogation tactics needed an upgrade. Although, he doubted if Bennett would have had any more success getting Jake’s men to talk. The fear in their eyes was almost tangible. Now that was something when the bad guys were more scared of other bad guys than facing felony charges of kidnapping.

  Once the chase was over, Jordan had called Bennett and told him the basics of the story. So far, the recriminations had been few, but he suspected Bennett was only biding his time before he’d unleash his reprimand. Might not be a good time to remind Bennett that he wasn’t technically Jordan’s boss.

  The two of them walked over to the back of the white panel van.

  Bennett spoke first. “I had to get the locals involved.”

  So he had heard Jordan’s final words before the phone call disconnected.

  He wanted to spit his irritation all over Bennett, but kept his words even. “I wish we could have kept all this on the down low.”

  Bennett frowned, and it wasn’t a pleasant look for him. “I don’t understand why.” An accusation edged Bennett’s short sentence.

  “Oh, it’s not like you haven’t kept plenty to yourself lately. Don’t pretend the high road with me.” He’d let his opinion jump from his lips before he could stop it. That’s what exhaustion did to a person.

  Bennett studied him for a long moment. “Point taken. The EMS will arrive any second. It’s a long way to the nearest hospital. Those women need immediate attention. I’m going to send them to the clinic where Ashley Rivers used to work. She said she’d meet us there.”

  Brett Duncan had come up behind them and was listening before they were even aware he was near. “I want to go with them.”

  Jordan pointed at the man. “You need to go back home and check on your sister.”

  That got Bennett’s attention. “Your sister?”

  Brett shook his head. “No. You go check on my sister. Those women are scared out of their mind. They can’t speak English, and mine is the only face they know right now.”

  Before Bennett could object, Brett had crawled into the back of the van with the frightened women.

  Bennett scowled at Jordan. “You and I have some things to discuss.”

  “I’m sure we do.” He wasn’t going to apologize or act like he’d done something wrong. He’d done what he had to do.

  “Go on. Check on Brett’s sister.”

  Jordan moved to do just that.

  “Check in with me more often than you do.”

  His inner struggle to keep his aggravation in check was about to spill out of his mouth. He bit his tongue to keep from yelling his opinion of Bennett’s high-handed attitude. When this was all over, he was going to ask to be reassigned to a new partner. He almost told Bennett as much.

  He stopped himself short before he made another stupid mistake. His primary goal was to protect Chelsea, and by doing so, to find out what happened to his sister. If Bennett came back with him to interview Chelsea, things could go wrong quickly.

  How much did Bennett know about Chelsea’s story? He acted as if he was well aware of what Chelsea had been through in the last few years. Once again, he got the impression Bennett hadn’t told him everything.

  That did it. He couldn’t keep his irritation in check any longer. It was time for a confrontation. He swung around to face Bennett. “Wait a minute. I thought we were partners.”

  Bennett’s face contorted into a mask of confusion as if he didn’t know what that had to do with anything.

  “You haven’t told me everything I need to know.” A sharp accusation.

  Bennett didn’t wait a second before firing a verbal jab back at him. “Neither have you. Doesn’t create much trust, does it?”

  “This has to stop. If we’re going to work together…we need to work together.”

  “I agree.”

  “You go first.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  Jordan put on his most severe expression. No way Bennett was getting out of answering some questions. “First, I’d like to know what Jake Richards is doing outside a jail cell. Don’t I remember packing him off to county after he hit me out at Cooley’s place? He was booked for assaulting an officer. I was the officer. Remember? Is he out on bail or something?” He asked the question because he suspected a different answer.

  “Not exactly.”

  Jordan lifted his eyebrows. Words weren’t necessary. Bennett’s eyes flashed with irritation. “You dropped the charges.”

  “I did what?” He geared up for a rant. “I don’t remember doing any such thing.”

  “We made it appear that someone outside Haskins’s organization had bailed him out. We were trying to drive a wedge between Richards and Haskins.”

  Jordan’s anger ratcheted up another notch on the heat index. “And did that work?”

  “Not exactly.” Bennett hesitated only a fraction of a second. “Let’s address this problem later.” Another half a tick. “Okay?”

  His last word sounded almost conciliatory.

  Jordan snapped his agreement. “Sure. Let’s do that.” On something like that, Jordan should have been consulted.

  He turned to one of the local deputies, hoping to hitch a ride into town. His car would be impounded and only released to him after it was thoroughly processed by a crime scene team.

  “Clark?” Bennett’s voice rang out behind him as Jordan opened the door of a county unit.

  Once again he faced his partner, halfway in and halfway out of the passenger seat.

  “You should probably know
…” He crooked his finger for Jordan to approach him.

  Jordan closed the few paces to face him, and Bennett met him halfway.

  Bennett lowered his voice. “I just found another body at Shaw’s Landing. A woman. Don’t know how or when she died. Dickerson is out there right now doing his forensics stuff.” His face clouded with dark emotion. “When Courtney and I were leaving, the victim’s hair got caught in the propeller.”

  The mental picture almost made Jordan gag.

  “So I reported the new case to the Commander. He went straight to the governor’s office.” Bennett ran his fingers through his dark hair. “The governor has declared a state of emergency in this county. He’s going to announce it later today, and he’s going to name me as acting sheriff until the situation here can be stabilized and the county can elect a new sheriff. I’m going to be working closely with the FBI. They’ll be handling the formal investigation of Halsey.”

  Clark stepped closer. “Seriously? Are you sure you’re the right person to act as Sheriff here. You’re smack in the middle of everything that’s going on here.” He whispered, anxious to keep their conversation between them, not sure if this was a good development or not.

  Bennett’s neck muscles corded. “I know. And I agree. But the governor doesn’t want to name anyone from this county, and the commander told him I was already investigating the deaths here. I can’t refuse without disclosing information I don’t want to disclose. You know what I mean.” He waited to see if Jordan caught his meaning, which he did, before Bennett continued. “I don’t like it, but it is what it is. I’ll have to work with it. So from here on out, we have to do things by the book…at least publicly. Understand?”

  Yeah, he understood. What did that mean for the undercover operation they had begun to bring down Fred Haskins?

  “Our most pressing task now is to find Jake Richards.” Bennett seemed to be telling him something without coming right out and saying it.

  He studied his partner. With so many other cops hanging around the scene, they couldn’t fully discuss the implications of capturing Richards, but Jordan could guess what was on Bennett’s mind. Once Richards was out of Haskins’s control, the old man would have to turn to his son for help to continue his vast operation. Haskins couldn’t do it alone.