Secrets and Lies (Hearts Of Braden Book 4)

by Susanne Matthews

Jackson heard the sarcasm in his tone and knew Mabel was to blame for it.

  “Braden is participating in a trial program. There are three components to the Healthy Living Initiative.”

  Emily explained her program to Mabel’s surprise and Zeke’s unmitigated fascination, as Jackson looked on, proud of how well she was holding her own.

  “My department works closely with the DEA, and they suspect Braden is ripe for an influx of illegal drugs, and I’m here to watch for the signs and warn people of the dangers.”

  Instantly, a sudden light appeared in Ezekiel’s eyes. “What kind of drugs you talking?”

  “Primarily methamphetamine,” she answered. “It’s easy to make, cheaply distributed, but it can bring the cooks and dealers a lot of money. For a $150.00 outlay, a good cook can make almost $10,000.00 worth of meth. Unfortunately, the Mexican cartel is running the show, and as you’re aware, when they’re involved, people die. They’re already established in the Quad cities, so for them to make the leap up here isn’t unheard of.”

  Lexi came back with the drinks, took their food orders, and returned to her station.

  Jackson watched Emily as she discussed the dangers of meth addiction, production, and distribution. While she had sounded knowledgeable about the nutrition program, he realized that this was her forte.

  “You seem to know an awful lot about this meth, Emily,” he said joining the conversation.

  “It’s part of my job to know everything there is to know about these poisons, and teach people to be wary of them, too. This particular meth cook is called the Chef, and he’s already left more than two dozen bodies in his wake. The DEA has been after him for almost four years, but he seems to vanish just as they get ready to close in on him.”

  “Sounds like your man has someone on the inside,” Zeke said. “How else would he realize the feds were onto him? If he’s as dangerous as you say he is, will the DEA and the FBI be sending someone else to Braden?”

  Emily scowled. “You may be right, Zeke. He certainly did the last time they cornered him. Three men died, and he disappeared. As to extra people on site, I doubt it. Unless I notify them that he’s here, your local sheriff is all the law you have.”

  Jackson knew his scowl mirrored hers. “Will they provide us with a picture of this man? I mean, we have to know who to avoid.”

  “That’s just it. They don’t know what he looks like. In fact, they can’t even be sure he’s a he, not a she, nor a they. He comes and goes every year or so, sets up a new facility and moves on. Anyone who can identify the man doesn’t live to tell the tale. Look, the food’s here. I’m starving.”

  Jackson nodded, understanding she needed to change the topic while they ate, but as soon as he had the chance, he wanted to know everything there was to know about this monster. He’d just hired two men and a woman, and although he’d checked out their credentials, he needed to be sure none of them were aligned with this Chef. Was this what had worried Emily the other night? If so, he had to make sure she understood he was in no way involved.

  * * * *

  Emily removed the prosthesis, unbuckled the socket, and slipped off the sock she’d put over her stump this morning, hoping it would ease the soreness in what was left of her leg, and sat back on the examination table waiting for the doctor to come in and check it out. It was a little red and ached, giving off some of the phantom leg pains she’d experienced shortly after the accident. The leg might be gone, but the pain was very real and worrisome. To make matters worse, her right leg and lower back were sore, probably from compensating for her left hip’s weakness. She had more than enough on her plate without this.

  Lunch had been delicious. The Cobb salad she’d ordered had been the best she’d ever tasted. Zeke had been interested—no make that engrossed—in the possibility of identifying a big time drug dealer in the area, and she worried his nosiness might put him in danger. When she saw him again, she would remind him how hazardous getting in the Chef’s way could be. He’d promised to come by the school in a couple of weeks and interview some of the students about the new food program.

  Thankfully, Jackson had changed the topic during the meal, telling her more about the school and the area. He’d added his personal cell number into her caller list in case she had any problems trying to get into the school. She’d tried her keys in the locks before leaving the building, and they worked fine. The alarm code he had given her was on a slip of paper tucked into her wallet. The four number combination should be easy to remember, but while she could effortlessly recall words and names, numbers tended to mix together. Just keeping track of her various PINs for credit and debit cards was a problem.

  She sighed. Damn it. Why was life always a series of unfortunate events for her? It seemed she was always in the right place but at the wrong time. She liked Jackson Harris, and not because of his resemblance to Alex. Jack, as Zeke had referred to him, had a quick wit and a sense of humor her serious-minded husband had lacked. He made her laugh, something she hadn’t done in months. While he loved his job as principal, there were other things in his life equally important to him. With Alex, the Chef had taken over their lives. Even the prospect of a son hadn’t been enough to steer him away from his single-minded pursuit of his enemy. If he’d been more flexible, she might not have been there the night he was killed.

  She started. Did she blame Alex for what had happened? She hadn’t thought about it this way before, centering all her hatred and fury on the Chef, but she was angry with her husband, too. It was his fault she’d gone on the raid. Kyle had hesitated because of her condition, but as Alex had put it, he wanted his wife there when he finally took the bastard down. Sadly, it hadn’t worked out that way.

  No wonder she had trouble letting go. Her grief, combined with the loss of her leg was so mixed up, she couldn’t even figure it out anymore. She and Alex had drifted apart before the baby; in fact, she’d thought a separation might be what they’d needed to ensure they both wanted the same things in life. But she’d gotten pregnant, and the thought of being a mother had changed everything. That would’ve been her last case—it still might be—and she’d have settled down into the daily existence of a wife and mother, something stolen from her. Maybe she was over Alex and that was why she could be attracted to another man. If that was the case, the pain in her heart was for her baby boy, the child she would never have now…thanks to that night.

  If Alex had kept the plans for the raid to himself and their small team instead of broadcasting them all over the office, he might’ve lived and actually caught the Chef, but no. He’d been cocky with the information his source had provided, and people had died. Zeke had hit the nail on the head. They might know how the Chef had gotten his information the last time, but who’d warned him previously? The cartel had any number of people in their pockets including more than one dirty cop. She wanted to trust Jackson, but the fewer people who knew the truth, the safer she was.

  The door opened admitting Dr. Hazlet.

  Because of her prosthetic leg and any problems that might arise because of it, Kyle had agreed that the doctor had to have her accurate and complete medical dossier, and because he did, he knew how she’d been injured. As a doctor, he was bound by the laws of his craft to keep her medical history confidential, and for everyone’s sake, Emily had to believe he would.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Jacobson. I understand that’s what I’m supposed to call you.”

  “That’s right. I’m using my maiden name here in Braden.”

  He nodded and bent his head to examine her stump, pressing here and there where it was reddest, looking for sensitivity. “This doesn’t look infected,” he said and nodded. “It’s chafed in a few places. I suspect you’ve done more walking and standing this week than you have in a while.”

  “I have, probably more than I’ve done at one time since I got it. I’ve been sleeping with it on lately, too.”

  “You know that’s not good.”

  “I know, but I’v
e had a few threats…”

  “Yes, Mabel has riled people up some. So, you’ve been all over the county getting things in place to keep her in line. For what it’s worth, I refused to sign her silly petition. Eating better isn’t going to hurt anyone.” He chuckled and picked up the connecting harness and examined it. “I think it we add a strip of moleskin here and here, might prevent it from sliding along the sock. A little shrinkage and swelling in the limb is to be expected, and sometimes the socket needs adjusting. You can pick some up at the drug store and put it in yourself.”

  “I’ll try that. Is there any way to ease the discomfort in my lower back and right leg? And the phantom pains are back.”

  “Again, you’ve done too much. I’ll prescribe a muscle relaxant for your back and right leg. Take it easy this weekend. Stay off the leg as much as you can…better yet, don’t wear it for a day or so. You must have crutches and a wheelchair.”

  “I do,” she answered grudgingly. She knew his advice was sound, but she hated the idea of staying inside all weekend. Besides, she had a date with Mike Saturday afternoon, and after what she’d learned about Jackson’s finances, she definitely wanted to talk to the FBI agent again.

  “Very impressive,” the doctor said examining her prosthetic knee and ankle joints. “I hadn’t seen one of these newer bionic models before. How long does the battery last between recharging?”

  “It’s good for three days of normal wear and tear or fourteen hours of steady walking, but I haven’t tested that. So far, I’ve been recharging it every second day, just to be sure. I may have to contact El Paso though. It’s beeped on me a few times, and stopped working completely the other day when I was near the airport. Luckily, I had my cane. Otherwise, I’d have fallen.”

  “What were you doing when it beeped?”

  “Let me think. The first time, I was in the apartment, bending and unpacking boxes, and straightening. The second time, I was going down the front stairs at the library where I dropped off some pamphlets. The last time, I was driving near the army base, and a short while later, when I got out of the car at the airport, neither the ankle nor the knee would straighten.”

  “I read up on this when I got your file. It’s one of the newest models available, but like everything else, it has its quirks. Repetitive movement like bending and straightening over and over again, can overheat the joint just as going down steep steps can, but the problem near the army and air bases was probably caused by magnetic or electronic interference with the signal. There are a lot of transformers in that area. Make sure you have your cane with you at all times around that region. The last thing you need is to fall and break your right leg or hip. As far as the library goes, if you need to go there again, call Lilly Dixon Cooper first. She can let you in using the freight elevator.”

  “That’s good to know. I met her at Buddy’s. I was afraid it was malfunctioning, and I’d have to send it out for repairs. I’ve got a backup leg, but it isn’t as mechanized as this one, and my limp is really noticeable. With this one, it moves only a fraction of a second after my right leg. With the other, there’s at least a three second delay.”

  “Well, everything looks good, so you don’t have to worry. Now the phantom pain is probably because you’re overtired. Here’s a prescription for a stronger analgesic and the muscle relaxant. Take it easy. I read through that medical file. You were one lucky lady.”

  “You do realize the contents of that file is highly sensitive and can’t be discussed with anyone, not even your wife. No one must know about the prosthesis. The hip is fine, since I’m using it as my get-out-of-jail-free card because I need my parking permit. No one here knows I’m with the DEA other than you, an undercover FBI agent, and Cal.”

  “I know. My lips are sealed, as is that file. This one, the one in my records here, will reflect treatment for your hip only. The other file is locked in my safe at home. Now, let me see you strap this on.”

  Emily reached for the sock she wore over the stump and slid it on, followed by the leather cuff with the sensors that fit over the base of her thigh and strapped it on, wincing slightly when it moved against a tender spot. Next, she popped the leg into the cuff, listening for the familiar sound indicating an airtight seal.

  The doctor nodded. “Well, you seem to have everything under control. Get the moleskin when you fill the prescriptions. Call me if you need anything. I’m old-fashioned. I make house calls.”

  Emily chuckled. “Thank you.

  Leaving the doctor’s, she drove to the sheriff’s office where Kevin reluctantly programmed the coordinates into her GPS for the spot along the Mississippi River where the floater had been found. He’d asked about the scrape along her rear side panel, and she’d claimed it had happened when she’d parked to close to a garage wall.

  Cal had frowned at her explanation, but he hadn’t said anything.

  Kevin had been full of questions as to why she needed to go and see where the corpse had been found, but Cal had answered him simply saying she was researching the spot to talk about the dangers of swimming in restricted areas. Kevin hadn’t been happy with the answer, but he hadn’t argued any more either.

  “You be careful out there,” Cal said leaning against her car. “It’s pretty isolated.”

  “I’ll be fine, but I really need to see where you found the body. I know you think he was dumped farther upstream, but sometimes a fresh pair of eyes notice things others miss. You’re familiar with the place, and as such, you know what to expect there. I’ll be looking at it through an investigator’s eyes. If I find anything suspicious, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Are you packing?” he asked.

  “Yes. Don’t worry, Cal. I’ve got this,” she said, feeling less confident by the minute. If he thought she needed her gun, then maybe she shouldn’t be going out there by herself. She supposed she could call Mike to meet her there. It was close to Riveredge, and that’s where he was most likely to be at this time of day.

  “I’d worry less if we knew who the hell we were looking for and whether he was already here.”

  “I know. Just try to keep Kevin from following me, will you? If he sees me searching the area, he’ll know something’s up.”

  “I’m sending him clear to the other side of the county. A man called in some vandalism, and I have a sneaking suspicion who’s to blame. Might be the same boys who stole your battery. They’ve been causing me more than one headache this summer. Nothing to concern you, though.”

  “Any word from Des Moines on the body?”

  Cal shook his head. “No. In addition to the missing hands, someone removed all of the guy’s teeth, hopefully post-mortem, making a dental identification impossible, too. Whoever killed this guy doesn’t want him identified, and that’s mighty suspicious. The coroner is stripping down the bones, and looking for identifying markers that might help. Seems this fellow might have broken a limb or two in the past. Think it could have to do with your guy?”

  “It’s possible, but to my knowledge, he’s never mutilated the corpses before. Are they going to see if they can get a DNA match?”

  “Yeah, but we both know that’s unless he’s in CODIS, that’s not going to be much help. Call me later, and let me know what you find.”

  “Will do.” Emily pulled away from the curb and headed east toward the Riveredge and River Road. Using the car’s Bluetooth, she put in a call to Mike, but only got his message.

  “Mike Reynolds is unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.”

  “Hey, Mike. It’s Emily. I’m on my way to the spot where they pulled the floater out of the river. Cal figures I should be there in about forty minutes. If you want to meet me there, I’d appreciate the company. Otherwise, I’ll see you around one tomorrow.” She ended the call.

  Driving through the countryside was both irritating and informative. Her leg beeped twice when she drove past a large transformer station. At least she wouldn’t have to worry tomorrow when Mike took her on th
eir excursion since he knew about the bomb and her artificial limb. She would have to be careful inside the school, and carry her cell at all times. If her leg beeped, she could always reach for her phone and hope no one realized exactly where the sound had come from. It was a good thing the computer and science classes were on the second floor.

  She’d been driving more than forty minutes when the GPS announced she’d reached her desired destination. Cal hadn’t been kidding about the area being isolated. There hadn’t been a car since she’d turned off the main highway. Pulling over to the side of what was little more than a wide lane, she made sure her joints worked properly, parked the vehicle, and got out. The area was secluded, the perfect place for a romantic tryst, and while it was beautiful, there was something about the place that set her on edge. Pulling her gun out of her purse, she slipped it into the pocket of her jacket.

  The musty smell of the muddy Mississippi filled the air. Why would anyone want to go swimming in that? Tales of six-foot long catfish and all kinds of other horrors flitted through her mind.

  Focus, Emily. You’re here for one reason only, and the sooner you get on with it, the better.

  Moving closer to the river’s banks, she spotted signs that indicated people fished in the area. The stench of decaying fish blended with the river’s fetid aroma, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. Shuddering, she inched closer, careful not to press too hard on her cane since the ground was spongy in places. The yellow police tape announced she’d found the spot she was looking for, and she frowned. While the current in this part of the river moved at roughly a little over a mile an hour, it seemed strange the body would’ve ended up caught on these particular bushes. It should have stayed out more—that is unless the body wasn’t dumped as far away as they thought.

  Turning to her left, she moved along a well-traveled path moving upstream. The terrain was a bit rough, but nothing she couldn’t handle, although the sore spots on her stump ached with each jarring step. As soon as she could, she needed to take the leg off and have a nice, hot soak. Then she would use the lidocaine cream on it and give it a good long rest.