by Diana Palmer
“It’s all right,” she said. “She’s going to be fine.”
“The sheriff’s on his way,” Tank told Carson. “With his investigator. Don’t touch anything.”
Carson’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll go along with the investigator if there’s a trail. I can track an ant.” He moved closer to Tank. “You can slug me, if you like.”
“You were trying to protect them,” Tank said heavily. “I might have done the same thing. At least she didn’t die.”
“What happened to her?” Carson asked, still grim.
“She took what she thought was a prescription medicine for a headache,” Clara said, “but someone had substituted Malathion for the drug in the capsules. It’s a miracle it didn’t kill her. She only took one capsule, thank God.”
“I don’t think that was his purpose at all,” Mallory repeated. “I don’t think he meant to kill her. He’s toying with Tank.”
Carson’s eyes narrowed. “I knew a guy like that once, who worked in spec ops,” he said, frowning curiously. “Eb knew him. He came along for a special job overseas. He was an independent contractor for the government, like us. His specialty was covert assassination, but not with military hardware. He was an expert at disguising poisons as medicine. He was assigned to take out a military strategist, but he did it over a period of days, using different everyday poisons to torment the man before he gave him the final dose. None of us liked the way he worked. He enjoyed killing.”
The brothers looked at each other with sudden inspiration. “What did he look like?” Tank asked.
“Insignificant sort of man,” he replied. “Medium height, nasal drawl. The only thing about him that stood out was his hair. It was a flaming orange color.”
“I can see how that would help him camouflage himself,” Cane said facetiously.
“I always thought he did it to draw attention away from his face,” Carson replied. “His hair was concealed when he went out at night anyway, not much risk of anyone seeing it. He did wet work with knives, as well. He bragged about one job, but when he saw the reaction he was getting from us, he clammed up.” His face hardened. “Anybody who enjoys killing needs help. I did it for ideological reasons, to help save innocents. He did it for fun.”
“This man,” Tank said slowly. “Did he have a nick on one ear?”
Carson blinked. “A what?”
“Did he have a cut on one ear, a scar?”
“I don’t remember. I can’t say I noticed.” He smiled faintly. “I was too occupied with the sight of that flaming mop of hair.”
Tank’s cell phone rang. It was the hospital. In fact, it was the doctor herself, whom he’d given his phone number.
“She is awake,” she told him, “and feeling somewhat better now.”
“I’m on my way,” Tank replied.
“Go,” Mallory said when he hesitated, because they’d come in one ranch vehicle. “Here.” He tossed him the keys. “We’ll get Darby to take us back to the ranch.”
“Okay. Thanks!” He ran for the truck.
“Don’t speed!” Cane called after him. “One tragedy a day is enough!”
“I’ll keep it under a hundred!” Tank called back.
Cane groaned. He’d been in a terrible wreck before he and Bolinda had been married. He took speed very seriously.
“I feel bad that this happened on my watch,” Carson said. “I was careless. I won’t be again.”
“We all slip from time to time,” Mallory assured him.
Two vehicles approached the cabin as Tank drove rapidly away with a wave. It was Sheriff Banks and his investigator.
They greeted the men, asked questions of Clara and started investigating Merissa’s room. It soon became apparent that her window was unlocked and someone had come through it quite recently. There was moisture from melted snow on the sill, and a partial footprint outside the window, among the leaves. A mold was taken of the print.
When the investigator had collected what evidence he could find, and another officer had been sent to the hospital to retrieve the bottle of capsules and enter them into the chain of evidence, Carson and the investigator started backtracking the faint trail through the woods.
Mallory and Cane returned to the ranch to update the wives on what was happening.
* * *
AT THE HOSPITAL, Tank sat beside Merissa in the intensive care unit, holding her hand.
“Scared me to death, baby,” he said softly.
She managed a wan smile. “I feel awful.”
“You’re going to be all right,” he said firmly. “Nobody’s coming near you, or touching you again, no matter what I have to do to keep you safe.”
“So sick,” she groaned.
“I’m sure they’re giving you something to make that better.”
“Yes. They said so. How’s Mama?” she asked suddenly. “She was so scared!”
“She’s fine,” he replied. “She came in with us to talk to the doctor.”
“Do you know what happened to me?” she asked.
He turned her hand over and traced the palm. “Someone doctored the capsules you were given for migraine headaches,” he said grimly. “We don’t know how yet, but we’re pretty sure who did it.”
She drew in a shaky breath and fought down the nausea. “Wow. I only took one capsule,” she whispered. “I remember Mama asked me when the ambulance came. I went out like a light pretty soon after that.”
His hand tightened on hers. “Thank God you didn’t take more.”
“What did he put in it?”
“Malathion,” he muttered. “It’s dangerous. Very dangerous. We have to use precautions when we put it out on the ranch. Once we had a guy covered with it. We had to have him decontaminated and we had to call the EMTs. That was an accident. What happened to you wasn’t. The sheriff’s investigator will probably want to talk to you, too.”
“I’ll tell him anything I can.” She looked up at Tank. “I remember that the blinds in my room were sort of crooked. I didn’t think anything about it... I just straightened them before I lay down. My head was throbbing. Oh, and the pills weren’t in my drawer. Why didn’t I say something? I never leave them sitting out...and there was an odd odor to them, but I thought it was the headache making me smell things.”
“Your head was hurting.” He smiled gently. “You gave us a real scare.”
She smiled. “Sorry.”
His expression became grim. “We have to get this guy, before he does something worse.”
“I totally agree. Unfortunately I won’t be able to help you run him down and hog-tie him,” she teased. “The way my doctor talks, I’m going to be here for several days.”
“You’ll be safe here.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” she moaned. “Mama will be all alone.”
“Don’t worry about Clara,” he added before she could speak. “We’ve got people watching her.”
“Okay.”
“Carson offered to let me punch him,” he then told her. “He felt bad that he was out of sight and sound when it happened.”
“He was trying to keep us safe,” she said. “Don’t be mad at him.”
He frowned. “Don’t tell me he’s working that magic on you, too?”
“Excuse me?”
He averted his eyes. He hadn’t thought of Carson as a rival. Now, remembering the man’s way with women, he was stunned. Merissa had been almost his until Carson came back with him. Now, she was backing away. Because of Carson?
He glanced at her. “You and Carson, you’ve been talking, haven’t you?”
She nodded. “He isn’t what he seems,” she said softly. She smiled. “He’s had a very hard life.”
“He told you about it?”
“Yes. He isn’t the sort of man who tells anybody private things, I think. But he told me a lot. I felt really bad for him.”
“I see.”
“So don’t blame him,” she said softly. “I know he
feels terrible, like he let me down. But it could have happened anytime. This man seems to know very well how to get to people,” she added quietly. “He’s like a snake. He can get in anywhere, without being noticed.”
“We’ll find him.”
She turned her head on the pillow. “You have to be very careful,” she said. “If you have medicines that you take, check them.”
“I’m way ahead of you there,” he assured her. “But there’s no way anyone could get into my house without being noticed.”
“Don’t assume that,” she said. “It’s what we assumed, too. And here I am.”
He grimaced. “You could have died.”
“Yes. But he miscalculated,” she said. “That will hurt his confidence. It will make him pause and rethink his methods. It will give you an opportunity to find out who he is.” She squeezed his hand. “Dalton, he’s done this before. Not exactly like this, but he’s killed someone. Someone important. That’s your key. That’s what you have to look for...” She swallowed, hard. She let go of his hand. “Sorry. I’m so...sleepy.”
“It’s all right. You rest. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
He smiled, when he’d never felt less like smiling. “Hey, what are friends for?” he asked her softly.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. Something flashed there, something odd. But she only smiled back and said, “That’s right.” Then she closed her eyes again.
* * *
HE LEFT HER. His mind was working overtime. He wanted to throw Carson through a wall. The man was the devil himself. He remembered Carson charming the beautiful flight attendant, all smooth talk and smiles. It hadn’t mattered about that woman, who was a stranger. But this was Merissa. And Merissa was his.
If only he hadn’t botched it when he’d blurted out that proposal. He’d even had the rings in his pocket. He was going to press them into her hand and ask her right then. That wasn’t really how he’d meant to do it. He wanted to do the whole courtship thing. Send her flowers, buy her presents; take her on moonlight rides. But he’d lost it when he had her so warm and soft in his arms.
She loved kissing him, he could tell that. But she was backing away and just when he wanted to get closer, much closer.
So was it Carson pulling them apart? Was he a rival? And if he was, how could Dalton, who was no rounder, compete with him? The thought tormented him.
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU know about Carson?” he asked Rourke later, when they were going over new safety precautions for the ranch.
Rourke lifted both eyebrows. “Not a lot. Why?”
“He told Merissa things.”
“Oh?” Rourke’s one brown eye was twinkling. “What sort of things?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” he muttered. He ran a hand through his thick hair. “He’s one smooth operator. He turns on the charm and women fall at his feet.”
“Well, yes, they do. But he’s a one-nighter, if that helps.”
“What do you mean?” Tank asked.
“I mean, he doesn’t date the same woman twice. He has no staying power. In fact, if you want my honest opinion,” he added, “he hates women.”
Tank gave him a disbelieving look.
“No, I’m not joking,” Rourke continued. He finished connecting two wires on a monitor. “He even said something about it once, to the effect that women are no damned good. He said they’ll crawl to a man who treats them like dirt, but turn their backs on one who’d die for them.”
“The reverse of that is often true,” Tank commented.
“I know.”
“I’ve seen him in action, too,” Rourke added. “I can’t say I wasn’t a bit envious. Never had that sort of luck with the ladies.”
“And that’s not what I’ve heard about you,” Tank mused.
Rourke shrugged. “I’m like Carson. I like variety.”
Tank pursed his lips. “I believe you helped Carson feed a man to a crocodile over a woman...?”
Rourke’s face hardened like steel. He averted his eye and didn’t say another word.
“Sorry,” Tank said.
Rourke didn’t look at him. “There are things I never discuss. Tat’s one of them.” He turned his head, and his one good eye was blazing. “K.C. Kantor’s another.”
Tank held up both hands. “I didn’t say a word.”
Rourke shrugged. “Sorry.” He tuned the device he was working on. “I used to have a higher boiling point.”
“We all have weaknesses.” Tank leaned back. “Mine’s lying in a hospital bed, mooning over your damned womanizing comrade.”
Rourke’s eyebrows almost blended into the blond hair at his forehead. “She’s what?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TANK FELT EMBARRASSED. He shifted his posture. “He tells her things.”
He chuckled softly. “She’s that sort of woman. It doesn’t mean she’s got eyes for him,” he pointed out.
“Well, I think...”
His cell phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and answered it. “Kirk.”
“Can you bring Rourke and meet me in the parking lot of the Custom Kitchen?” Carson asked.
“What in hell for? Are you hungry?” Tank asked sarcastically.
“I’ll tell you when you get here.” He hung up.
Tank relayed the message.
“He’s found something and he isn’t willing to talk at the house,” Rourke said grimly.
“Surely he didn’t leave Clara at the house by herself?” Tank asked worriedly.
“I can almost assure you that he’s got her with him. He may be a womanizer, but there isn’t anybody better at the job than he is.”
“He wasn’t there when Merissa was almost poisoned,” Tank pointed out coldly.
“None of us would have expected the SOB to walk into the house and poison her meds,” Rourke retorted. He stopped and frowned. “You said he left tracks?”
“Yes.”
Rourke cocked his head. “Now, isn’t that interesting? He’s sneaky enough to poison prescription meds so that they’re undetectable, and yet he leaves footprints?”
“We need answers.” Tank moved ahead of him to a nearby ranch pickup.
“I think we’re about to get them, too,” Rourke predicted.
* * *
CLARA WAS WITH CARSON. He sent her inside, with a gentle smile, to have coffee while he talked over some things with his colleagues.
Tank was somber and cold. Carson either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was intent on what he and the sheriff’s investigator had uncovered.
“The tracks led to the highway about a mile behind the house,” Carson told them, leaning casually back against the bed of the truck with his arms crossed. “They vanished. We assume a car or another vehicle was parked there. We found a partial tire track in the snow on the side of the road. We couldn’t track any farther on foot, but the sheriff’s department has dogs. They marked the spot with GPS and they’re bringing out bloodhounds in the morning.” He sighed. “But if you want my take on it, they’ll track him to a deserted house or a parking lot, and another dead end.” His black eyes narrowed. “He’s just playing games. That’s all.”
“Games. He almost killed a woman!” Tank exploded.
“To him, it’s just a game,” Carson replied calmly. “Cat and mouse. He’s playing you.”
Tank looked menacing.
Carson’s face softened just a little. “I know what she means to you,” he said quietly. “I’m not downplaying how serious it could have been, if she’d taken more than one of those Malathion-laced capsules. I’m telling you how he feels about it.”
“How do you know so much?” Tank asked.
“Men work in patterns,” he said surprisingly. “I was a math whiz in college,” he added. “Top of my class, in fact. I have a photographic memory, which came in handy when I majored in history as an undergraduate. History, as you may know, is mostly case law. I had in mind
being another F. Lee Bailey,” he mused. “But I dropped out of law school just before graduation, due to...personal matters.” He straightened. “What I’m saying is that people have habits that make them predicable, like equations. This man shows a few traits that may help us track him down.”
“Such as?” Tank asked, mellowing.
“He’s a master of disguise. We know that already. He’s single-minded, methodical, careful, and he knows how to tamper with pharmaceuticals without being caught.” He shook his head. “So how is it that this careful, methodical man leaves a trail a kindergarten child could follow?”
Rourke and Tank exchanged glances. “We were just discussing that,” Rourke confessed.
“He’s keeping you off your guard, unbalanced, by placing Merissa and Clara in danger,” Carson continued.
“So?” Tank asked.
“He’s afraid that you’re going to remember something that will hurt him, point him out to the authorities. He’d like to kill you, but he can’t get close enough. So he’s keeping you focused on the women instead of the past.”
“He may have a point,” Rourke said.
“There’s another thing,” Carson continued. “Remember what I said about the man I worked with who was an expert at covert poisonings?”
“I do,” Tank said.
“You met him once, too, I believe,” Carson told Rourke. “The red-haired fellow who was always talking about sharks.”
“Sharks!” Tank straightened.
“What?” Carson asked, diverted.
“Sharks.” He paced, touching his forehead. “Sharks. Why can’t I remember? Someone was talking about a man who mentioned sharks...”
“Carlie,” Carson said quietly. “In Cash Grier’s office.”
“Yes!” Tank turned. “Remember, she said the rogue agent came into Cash’s office and he was talking about sharks and how misunderstood they were. She said he told her he liked to swim with them in the Bahamas!”
“Sharks. Disguise. Poisons. The Bahamas.” Carson’s eyes narrowed. “I need to make a couple of phone calls.”
“Why did you want us to meet you here?” Rourke asked as the other man pulled out his cell phone.