by Kathy Herman
“The sheriff does not look happy,” Hawk said.
“He certainly doesn’t.”
Sheriff Granger exchanged words with the man in the suit, then turned, his eyes shaded with his hand, and seemed to be searching for something. Finally, he motioned with his hand for someone to come.
Elliot glanced over his shoulder. “Hawk, I think he’s motioning to us.”
“Oh no.” Hawk felt sick to his stomach. “What if the feds want to take over the case? If that happens, they won’t tell us anything, just like they didn’t tell us anything when my dad and Riley were missing. I’ll never find out what happened to Kennedy.”
“Hawk, it’s possible you’re better off not knowing,” Elliot said.
“I don’t see how. It’ll haunt me the rest of my life. I know you and Mama think Kennedy was cheap, and you’re glad she’s gone. But you didn’t know her. She wasn’t like that. Something about her just drew me in, even before it turned sexual.”
“Did you love her?” Elliot said.
“I don’t know. I felt something. But it was different than what I felt for Laura Lynn.”
Sheriff Granger whistled and called Hawk’s name, motioning with his hand for Hawk to come.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Hawk said.
Elliot put his hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “Let’s go see what this is about.”
As they began walking toward the sheriff, the man in the dark suit stepped forward. He looked to be around forty. Nice looking, dark hair, and graying sideburns. Smug.
“I’m Special Agent Christopher Romo of the FBI. I’m in charge of this case now. My people will be working closely with the sheriff, but I’m the go-to guy from this point on. Any questions?”
“Yes, about a hundred,” Hawk said. “Do you know what happened to Kennedy Taylor?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Romo said.
“But where did you come from?” Hawk said. “I didn’t report this to the sheriff until a few hours ago.”
“Hawk, we have some things we need to talk about,” Romo said. “We’re setting up an FBI office in the sheriff’s department right now.” He turned to Elliot. “Mr. Stafford, I presume?”
Elliot shook his hand. “How do you know our names?”
“I make it a point to learn the names of all persons of interest,” Romo said, “and their family members.”
“So am I person of interest?” Hawk said.
Romo nodded. “Yes, you are. And we need to find out what you know.”
Hawk glanced over at Virgil. “But I already told Sheriff Granger everything I know when I gave my statement. I’ve been answering questions all day.”
“Then you won’t have any problem telling us,” Romo said.
Hawk sighed. “I’m starved. I’m exhausted. Do we have to do this now?”
“We’ll make sure you have dinner. And you can rest, if you want. But we’d like you to stay here until we’re done.”
“How long do you anticipate that will be?” Elliot said. “I’m his ride.”
“Mr. Stafford, I suggest you go home and wait for a call from us.”
“Is Hawk in trouble?”
Romo held up his hand. “No one is saying that. But he will need to tell us what he knows, for however long that takes.”
Elliot’s eyebrows came together. “If he’s not in trouble, why isn’t he free to leave?”
“Hawk can do whatever he wants,” Romo said. “But let me assure you, it’s in his best interest to cooperate. This is a federal investigation and he’s at the center of it. For his safety, and to avoid coming under suspicion, it’s in his best interest to cooperate.”
Hawk turned to Elliot. “It’s okay. I don’t have anything to hide.”
Elliot looked over at Virgil. “Should I get him a lawyer?”
“Not at this time,” Virgil said. “It would be good if Hawk would just answer their questions.”
Elliot turned to Hawk and put his hands on his shoulders. “Tell the truth. Trust God to do the rest.”
Hawk nodded. “I will.”
Chapter 10
Kate sat with Elliot, Grandpa Buck, Abby, Jay Rogers, and Jesse in the living room, fighting the urge to call Virgil and give him a piece of her mind.
“So Virgil just stood there and let that FBI agent march in and tell him what to do?” Kate said.
“Honey, he did what any good law enforcement official would do when the feds trump his jurisdiction,” Elliot said. “He kept his mouth shut except when asked a question. That doesn’t mean that, behind the scenes, he’s going to be passive. In fact, Virgil and passive don’t even belong in the same sentence. Since he told me I didn’t need to get Hawk a lawyer, I’m taking him at his word. If things change, you know he’ll tell us.”
Abby sighed and linked arms with Jay. “I’m so disappointed. I thought for sure by tonight Hawk would be feeling relieved and the worst would be over.”
“Wish Virgil could tell us somethin’,” Buck said.
Elliot arched his eyebrows. “Actually, if Virgil’s following protocol, he can’t tell us anything.”
“How did the FBI even know about the case,” Jay said, “if Hawk hadn’t told anyone besides Sheriff Granger?”
“That’s the question of the hour.” Elliot put his arm around Kate. “All I can figure is they were investigating their own case involving Kennedy Taylor, and when it collided with Virgil’s, they wanted control.”
“So we’re just expected to accept that the feds are in charge,” Buck said, “and we won’t know squat about what’s happening in the case?”
“Well, we’ll just see about that.” Kate picked up her cell phone and keyed in Virgil’s private number.
“Honey, what are you doing?” Elliot said. “Don’t complicate matters. Wait until we know more before you—”
“Hello, Virgil.” Kate put the phone on speaker. “Would you please tell me what’s going on? My family’s sitting here in knots after Hawk was practically strong-armed by Special Agent Romo to stay and answer the same questions he’d already voluntarily given to you, and then Elliot was told to go home and wait for a call. You, of all people, know that I don’t wait well!”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss this with you,” Virgil said. “Just because I’m close to your family doesn’t mean I can do what I want. The FBI is in charge. Any information from now on needs to come from Special Agent Romo.”
“You’re really going to wash your hands of this—just like that?”
“Kate, I’m not washing my hands of anything. I’ll be working very closely with Romo. He’s going to need my help. And frankly, I need his. There’s a lot to this investigation, and we can’t do it justice without the use of each other’s resources. That said, I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I could throw away my career by overstepping on this case. It’s not just about your family.”
“Okay. I understand.” Kate softened her tone. “But the FBI is questioning my son. I think I’m entitled to answers.”
“Your adult son,” Virgil said. “And there’s a good chance you’re not going to get answers. When the Bureau gets involved in something this complex, you can bet whatever we know is just the tip of the iceberg. They’re not going to discuss the details of the case. They’re just not. And I won’t be able to tell you or Hawk everything that I know. This is the big leagues, Kate.”
“But how can I help protect Hawk if I don’t know anything?”
“Protecting him isn’t your job,” Virgil said. “Not on this level.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look, Kate … whatever Hawk’s mixed up in, it’s big. It’s dangerous. And it’s going to take the most qualified people to flesh it out.”
Kate’s eyes welled and she glanced over at Elliot. “You’re sc
aring me, Virgil. Did Hawk commit a crime?”
“Not as far as I can tell. What he and Dennis told me seemed straightforward and consistent. It’s not what they know but what they don’t know that concerns me. We’ve got a long way to go in this investigation. You have to trust the Bureau with this. You really don’t have a choice. The less your family knows, the safer you’ll be.”
Kate wiped a tear off her cheek. “Can you tell me when Hawk is coming home?”
“I honestly don’t know. He’s behind closed doors with Special Agent Romo and several other agents, no doubt telling them everything he knows. It could be hours. Elliot won’t need to come after Hawk, though. The FBI will bring him home. The best thing you can do is stay calm. Cooperate. And pray. You’ve got the best prayer warriors I know right there. I seem to recall that one of them has enough faith to make an apostle jealous.”
Jesse grinned as everyone in the family turned and looked at him.
Kate smiled, remembering Jesse’s horrible ordeal of last fall and how brave he was.
“Honestly, Kate, you’ve been through worse,” Virgil said. “That may not make you feel any better, but it sure ought to make you know that God’s got His hand on your family and He’s not letting go.”
Kate exhaled. “Thanks for reminding me. You’re right.”
“Just don’t take it personal when I’m not as available as you’re used to,” Virgil said. “I’m not at liberty to discuss anything the Bureau may choose to share with me. And because it’s no secret that I’m a close friend of the family, they may not share anything at all.”
Kate sighed. “I’m sorry I raised my voice. Thanks for hearing me out. You know I trust you. I’m just anxious.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Good night, Virgil,” Elliot said. “We appreciate your candor. I know you’ll look out for Hawk the best you can.”
“That you can count on.”
Kate turned off the phone and yielded herself to Elliot’s embrace. “How will we get through this when we don’t even know what this is?”
“Because God knows,” Elliot said. “And His sovereignty trumps FBI jurisdiction.”
There was a half minute of silence, and then Abby stood.
“I need an ice cream sundae to clear my head,” she said. “Anybody else?”
Jesse’s hand shot up. “Me!”
Grandpa Buck raised his hand. “Count me in.”
The others nodded.
Jay followed Abby into the kitchen. “I’ll scoop. You pour.”
Jesse sat on the floor with the orange tabby kitten in his lap and Wolf lying next to him. “Wow, I just realized that every kid in this family has needed the sheriff to get them out of trouble.”
“Believe me, I’m well aware,” Kate said, holding tightly to Elliot’s hand. Hawk, what have you gotten yourself into?
t
Virgil sat at his office computer, reading the short response that had just come in from NLETS concerning the composite drawing of Kennedy Taylor and the supporting information he had posted earlier.
Composite sketch 20180607FFRAR has been positively identified by sources within the Central Intelligence Agency and has been turned over to the Federal Bureau of Investigation for appropriate action. This is an FBI matter and no information regarding this individual will be disseminated.
In other words, it’s a dead end. Virgil sighed and took off his computer glasses. What was this young woman into that she was so quickly recognized by sources within the CIA?
A knock on the open door startled him.
“It’s me,” said Romo. “Is that the response from NLETS I see on your screen?”
“Yes, it just came in,” Virgil said. “I’m sure you know all about it.”
“You mind if I take a look?” Romo said, not waiting for an answer. He looked over Virgil’s shoulder and read the words on the screen. “Short and to the point. I like that.”
“It was less than two hours after I posted the woman’s composite sketch that you showed up on my doorstep,” Virgil said. “Obviously, FBI headquarters in DC relayed it to the Little Rock Field Office, and they relayed it to Fayetteville. Did you even have time to pack a toothbrush before you beat a path to Foggy Ridge?” Virgil hated the sarcasm in his voice.
“Look, Sheriff, I’m really not the enemy. I’m sure it’s unsettling having the FBI set up shop in your jurisdiction, but I assure you, I want to work with you and your people to complete this investigation.”
Virgil folded his arms across his chest. “You going to tell me what it is we’re investigating?”
“I’ll make sure you know whatever you need to know, when you need to know it.”
“Ah, the good old FBI mantra.”
Romo smiled. “Come on, Virgil. This isn’t your first rodeo. I don’t need to tell you there’s nothing usual about this case. The woman’s ID came from sources within the CIA, which means the Bureau’s going to be as closed mouthed as it gets. Who in the Bureau have you worked with before?”
“Sean Meadows. Bing Archer. Boyd Lester. Mitch Carter. Several others,” Virgil said. “So are you going to tell me anything?”
Romo was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I did my homework. You have a long history with the Cummings family. Whatever relationship you have with them cannot enter into your thinking on this case.”
“I know that,” Virgil said. “It won’t.”
“You’re a good lawman, Sheriff. I believe your intentions are honorable. I want to keep you in the loop to the degree I can. But I have to know you can stay objective.”
“The fact that I’m close to the Cummings family is all the more incentive for me to stay objective. I would never do anything to compromise Hawk’s safety.”
Romo nodded. “Good.”
“That said, I think it’s right for me to want to also protect the people who work for me. And blind allegiance to the FBI without any idea of how that might affect their safety is not a reasonable expectation of a sheriff who takes his job seriously.”
“Fair enough,” Romo said. “Here’s what you need to know for now. The woman’s real name wasn’t Kennedy Taylor, and she will, from this point on, be referred to as Nameless. Nameless is dead, but there is no public record of it. She has a five-million-dollar bounty on her head and is being pursued by a dangerous and wicked man who will do whatever it takes to find her. Our job is to intercept this bounty hunter unharmed and turn him over to the Bureau.”
Virgil studied Romo’s face. “I assume this bounty hunter knows that Hawk was romantically involved with Nameless?”
“Our sources say yes. Which would make Hawk highly sought after for information he doesn’t have, and disposable when Nameless’s pursuer is through torturing him.”
“So you believe Hawk’s telling the truth?” Virgil said.
“I do. But it’s a moot point. This bounty hunter is on a mission to find Nameless, and Hawk is in grave danger.”
Virgil’s mind raced with details that didn’t add up. “If this bounty hunter is in pursuit of Nameless, who were the eight men who executed a drone attack and kidnapped her, and I assume killed her, but left Hawk confused and alive—and Brody Armison dead just days later?”
“That’s not relevant to my assignment.”
“Not yours maybe,” Virgil said. “But I have an obligation to pursue Brody’s killers.”
Romo shook his head. “It’s a dead end, Sheriff. These are professionals. They’ve covered their tracks well. You can forget finding them, and looking would be a huge waste of time and resources. Nameless is dead.”
“What am I supposed to say to Brody’s parents—that whether or not their son was murdered isn’t relevant?”
“Of course not,” Romo said. “You tell them there’s no evidence of foul play. That’s the truth. And that Dennis got caught up in Bro
dy’s tale, but there’s just no evidence to support his allegations.”
“And what about Dennis? He’s not going to roll over and pretend this never happened.”
“You let me handle Dennis. I don’t think he’ll be a problem.”
“Which brings us back to Hawk,” Virgil said. “If he’s in grave danger, how are we going to keep him safe and this bounty hunter unharmed?”
“I’m working on it.”
“So now I’m not relevant?” Virgil said.
Romo shook his head. “Not true. I’m still gathering facts. Once I have what I need, we’ll meet and discuss the best course of action. That may be yet tonight.”
Virgil sat there, his arms folded across his chest. “So this is how it’s going to be: you tell me what’s relevant and when and what we’re going to do about it?”
Romo winced. “Ouch. That’s a little harsh. I’m going to go listen in on Hawk’s interview. I’ll call you when we’re through.”
Chapter 11
Virgil walked up on the wraparound porch of his Victorian home, the scent of honeysuckle taking his mind back to summer nights when he was a kid and slept with the windows open.
Garfield meowed and jumped down from the porch swing and rubbed against his ankles.
Virgil bent down and scratched the cat’s chin. “Okay, I admit you’re growing on me. But I’m still a dog person.” He turned the knob and opened the beveled glass door, and was hit with a blast of cold air, and the pervasive aroma of something delicious.
Drake bounded into the foyer and sat as he’d been taught to do at obedience school, his tail swishing back and forth across the wood floor, his exuberance barely containable.
Virgil rubbed his ears and smiled at his mismatched eyes, one blue and one brown. A German shepherd–Australian sheepdog mix, this rescue dog had turned out to be a lovable companion. “Hey, buddy. Sorry I’m late. I’ll bet you’re dying to get out and run.”
Jill Beth came into the entry hall, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel, wearing a smile that could melt an iceberg. “I hope you’re hungry. I made curry chicken—the lowfat version, which means you get seconds.”