Carrie Weaver - Count on a Cop

by Secrets in Texas

  Her fingers shook as they closed over the flat cotton drawstring bag. Opening it, she found several floppy disks inside.

  Inserting the first disk into the drive, she almost laughed aloud when she saw it appeared to be a manuscript written by Jonathon Stone. Maybe Matt hadn’t been so far off course when he’d suggested they might find memoirs handing Jonathon to them on a silver platter.

  But Death at Zion’s Gate appeared to be a thriller, full of drug deals gone bad and international espionage. Jonathon definitely had a vivid imagination. Unfortunately his talent as a storyteller was next to nonexistent.

  Angel had just inserted the second disk when she heard the front door open. Cursing under her breath, she ejected the disk and put it back into the bag. Did she dare steal the disks? There wasn’t time to copy and replace them.

  Angel made a quick decision and lifted her skirt. Fortunately she could tuck the packet into the waistband of her briefs and no one would be the wiser.

  Smoothing down her skirt, she replaced the tile and folded the rug back into place. She had just rolled the chair back when she heard her name being called.

  “Angel?”

  “Yes, Eleanor, I’m still in the office.” She maximized the genealogy page.

  Eleanor entered the room smiling broadly. She handed Angel a piece of fabric with intricate embroidery. “Rebecca wants you to have this. It will be lovely once it’s framed. It’s a sampler.”

  Angel ran her finger over the stitching. “Yes, I know. It’s beautiful. I must thank her next time I see her.”

  “Yes.” Eleanor glanced away. “Or I can tell her for you.”

  “See, I got some of my information input. I’m afraid I’m very slow on the computer.”

  “A little bit at a time, that’s how most things get done. Why don’t we go bake a peach cobbler? It’s Matthew’s favorite and I’m sure he’ll be famished when he gets home.”

  Angel wanted to scream in frustration. She had three disks tucked away beneath her dress and she wanted nothing more than to pore over them. But first and foremost she was supposed to be a good Zion’s Gate bride.

  They chatted about inconsequential things while they made the peach cobbler.

  “You’ve improved much as a cook since you’ve been here. You’re a very gifted baker when you set your mind to it,” Eleanor observed. “Even your biscuits are exceptional now.”

  Angel warmed with pride. She was a good baker, a talent that would have remained buried if she hadn’t been assigned to Zion’s Gate. And she never would have met Matthew and fallen in love with a genuinely good man.

  Contentment mingled with the aroma of baking cobbler. The thought of falling in love was something that had scared her since Kent’s death. But with Matthew, it was just a natural extension of their relationship and who he was. Angel couldn’t comprehend not being in love with him.

  And though she enjoyed Eleanor’s company at lunch and the antics of the children taking a break from their studies, she missed Matthew terribly.

  When he finally walked through the door at almost five that afternoon, she hurried to greet him.

  “Matthew,” she exclaimed, running to meet him. He drew her into his arms and held her close. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, Angelina.”

  “Matthew, I trust the trip went well?” Eleanor asked from behind Angel.

  Angel stifled a flash of annoyance. In a community like Zion’s Gate, she had to share Matthew, even if they’d been separated all day and she wanted him to herself. What had Eleanor said once? Sometimes the needs of one must be sacrificed for the good of many.

  Matthew released her, twining his hand with hers. “Yes, Aunt, it went well.”

  “I imagine Jonathon is at the meeting hall?”

  “Yes, the men needed to unload supplies.”

  “If you will excuse me, I need to speak with him.”

  “Of course.” Angel hoped her eagerness to get rid of Eleanor wasn’t apparent in her voice. “I mean, we’ll hold down the fort.”

  Eleanor chuckled. “I’m sure you will.” Then she left.

  Matthew pulled Angel close, nibbling on her neck. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? We have the house to ourselves for fifteen whole minutes. Maybe even twenty. I was able to shake Jonathon long enough to buy more condoms.”

  Angel responded with a noise of frustration. She wanted nothing more than to make love with Matthew. “We can’t.”

  His breath was warm on her ear. Taking her lobe in his mouth, he suckled gently.

  Heat pooled in her belly and need tugged at her breasts.

  “Are you sure we can’t? You’d be amazed at what I can do in thirteen minutes.”

  She placed her hands on either side of his face to make sure she had his full attention. “Matthew, my love, I’m always amazed at what you do. But we have business in the study.”

  “Business, right.” He grinned.

  “Seriously. Listen to me.” She told him about the disks she’d found.

  Sighing, he said, “Not the kind of business I’d hoped for but a gift all the same. Don’t think you’re getting off easy, though. I intend to continue our interlude this evening. I just hope Ruth has plenty of earplugs.”

  “I’ll hold you to it. Now come on. Let’s get into the study.” She pulled away, but he grasped her arm.

  “One thing first. You called me your love. Am I?”

  The longing in his eyes surprised her. “Do you really need to ask?”

  “Yes.”

  She closed the distance between them and touched his face. “Matthew, I’ve never missed anyone as much as I missed you today. I love you with my whole heart.”

  “Good. Because I love you.”

  Angel’s eyes misted. It was a moment she would treasure forever. When she wasn’t working against the clock. “We’ll continue this tonight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then let’s go see what’s on those disks.”

  “After you, my love.” Matthew gestured gallantly.

  Angel quickly picked the lock to the study. Matthew flicked on the computer while Angel retrieved the fabric sack from the waistband of her briefs.

  Matthew raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t say a word,” Angel warned, wishing she wore something sexy rather than serviceable. She withdrew the disks from the bag and handed them to Matthew.

  He glanced at his watch. “Twelve minutes. Keep an eye on the time, okay?”

  Angel nodded, reading over his shoulder. “Plans for a hydroponic garden—fruits, vegetables and herbs. No pot, though, unless it’s in code.”

  Matthew ejected the disk and went on to the next. “Death at Zion’s Gate.”

  “Yes, apparently Jonathon is a frustrated novelist. I don’t think there’s much there.”

  Matthew scrolled through the pages. Then slowed.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s about a fire in the barn.”

  “Do you think it has anything to do with your father’s death?”

  “I’m not sure.” He frowned, scanning the pages.

  Angel glanced at her watch. “Less than five minutes. Wrap it up.”

  Matthew didn’t seem to hear her. He continued scanning.

  “Matt, we’ve got to go.”

  He glanced up from the screen, his gaze wide and unfocused.

  “What is it?”

  “Padlocks. The doors were padlocked.”

  “Oh, Matt. We don’t know any of it’s true.”

  “I do. I remember my mother had bandaged hands the night my father died. She said she burned them grasping a cast-iron skillet without mitts. But she was always careful in the kitchen.”

  Looking at her watch, she said, “Let’s discuss this later. We don’t want to get caught in here.”

  Nodding, he closed the file and ejected the disk. He shut down the computer and handed her the disks.

  The sound of the front door opening prodded her to shove the di
sks in the pocket of her dress.

  “Go!”

  She twisted the lock tab and shut the door behind them. They were a few steps away when Eleanor came around the corner calling, “Matthew? Angel?”

  Matthew took the lead. “Yes, Aunt Eleanor?”

  “Jonathon has asked you to spend the rest of the evening in meditation. Angel, I won’t require your help in the kitchen tonight. I’ll call you when supper is ready.”

  “Are you sure, Eleanor?”

  “Positive. Now go.”

  Angel glanced at Matthew. He shrugged.

  Sliding her hand into his, she followed her husband up the stairs. Hadn’t she been dying to have time alone with him?

  But something in Eleanor’s manner bothered her. She just wished she could put her finger on the problem.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MATTHEW FOLLOWED Angel down the stairs, wanting nothing more than to persuade her to return to bed. To seek a few more moments of forgetfulness in her arms.

  But Angel insisted on checking on Eleanor. She was worried about his aunt for a reason she couldn’t name.

  She stopped short when they entered the kitchen.

  Eleanor had her back to them, chopping carrots. Her shoulders shook. They heard muffled sobs.

  Angel ran to her. “Eleanor, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, dear.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Picking up a peeled onion, she cut it in half, then proceeded to dice it. “Onions.”

  Even Matthew knew enough about cooking to know an uncut onion wouldn’t make Eleanor cry.

  Angel took the knife from Eleanor’s grasp and placed it on the counter. Touching her arm, she said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Eleanor squared her shoulders. “Nothing you should worry about, dear. I’ll be fine. Now why don’t you and Matthew sit on the porch while I finish preparing dinner. Think of it as my gift to you.”

  “I couldn’t—”

  “Please, do it for me?” Eleanor’s voice contained a note of pleading Matthew had never heard her use.

  “Come on, Angel. Don’t refuse a gift.”

  Angel frowned but gave in. “Okay. But if you change your mind and decide you need help, just let me know.”

  “I will.” Then she turned her back and chopped with a vengeance.

  They went outside and sat on the porch steps.

  “I sent your e-mail while I was in town,” he murmured.

  “Good.”

  “I didn’t think I was going to be able to get away from Jonathon at first. It seemed he wanted to spend quality time with me. Until I made the wire transfer, that is.”

  “Mmm.”

  Angel was unusually quiet.

  “Eleanor will be fine.”

  “I hope so. She tried to cover, but I could tell she was really upset.”

  “Probably just some sort of tiff with Jonathon.”

  Sighing, she said, “You’re probably right. I wonder if she knows about the disks? It almost seemed too easy for her to leave me in the office alone.”

  “What reason would she have?”

  Angel shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s something going on with her, though.”

  “Like I said, there’s probably some simple explanation. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.” He lowered his voice. “Jonathon has a laptop he leaves in his truck. Since his truck is locked in the garage, he probably feels it’s safe. I bet his records are on that laptop.”

  “Any chance you can get your hands on it?”

  “I’d have to have the key to the garage and the key tab to disable the truck alarm. As far as I know, Jonathon has the only tab.”

  “I can probably get us into the garage. Jonathon has to have a spare set of keys. Tomorrow, find out where Jonathon keeps them. We can try to access the laptop when everyone’s asleep tomorrow night.”

  “Sounds like as good a plan as any.”

  Nodding, she picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “You don’t think Eleanor’s ill, do you? Cancer, like your mother?”

  “I hope not.”

  “Me, too.” She slipped her hand into his and rested her head on his shoulder. A wave of protectiveness washed over him. He’d do anything for Angel.

  They talked quietly until Eleanor called them for supper. She seemed anything but upset, her mood almost overly cheery.

  “Sit down, everyone. I made Matthew’s favorite fried chicken and the garlic mashed potatoes Angel likes.”

  “Thank you, Eleanor. You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” Angel murmured.

  “Nonsense.” She smiled widely, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Supper was a surreal affair, with Angel unusually quiet and Eleanor unusually talkative. And Ruth…well, Ruth was just Ruth. Oblivious to anything that didn’t directly affect her.

  There was a knock at the door as they finished their peach cobbler.

  Eleanor’s hands fluttered about her throat. “I wonder who that could be.”

  She went to the front door and answered. Matthew could hear the murmur of voices but couldn’t distinguish words.

  When Eleanor returned to the kitchen, Raphael and two other men came in.

  “We’re sorry to interrupt your supper, Matthew. But Jonathon has called an emergency meeting of the elders. He wants you at the meeting hall now.”

  Uneasiness settled in his gut. “Yes, I’ll go right away.”

  “Jonathon wants Angel and Eleanor to come, too.”

  “Why?”

  Raphael shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Raphael hadn’t known a lot of things since Matthew had returned. Matthew had to wonder when his brother’s memory had gotten so selective.

  “Ruth, you can clean up from supper while we’re away,” Eleanor commanded.

  “I want to go, too.” Ruth pouted prettily.

  Raphael shook his head. “No. You stay here.”

  Ruth huffed and flounced out of the room. If Jonathon thought Matthew could ever marry someone like Ruth, he was sorely mistaken. Even if he didn’t have a wonderful wife and Ruth were the last female on the planet.

  Could the emergency meeting have anything to do with his betrothal to Ruth? Matthew wiped his mouth and carefully set his napkin on the table.

  “Angel, let’s go.”

  She nodded and rose.

  “I’ll be along in a moment,” Eleanor said, not quite meeting his gaze.

  He had a bad feeling about this. And it was getting worse by the second. His hand at Angel’s elbow, they left the house.

  Raphael and the men followed close behind. An escort or unarmed guards?

  At least Matthew assumed they were unarmed.

  Partway down the path, he turned to Raphael. “Rafe, what’s this about?”

  Raphael, typically so open, shrugged again, his face impassive. “I told you I don’t know.”

  “Yes, well, you’ve told me that about a lot of things. And now I have to wonder if you remember you’re my brother.”

  Emotion flashed briefly in his eyes and was gone. “I do what I must, Matthew. Things have changed since you lived with us.”

  “So talk to me. Help me understand.”

  Raphael inclined his head toward the other men. “You will understand when Jonathon wants you to understand.”

  His brother’s reserve, combined with the cryptic statement, sent chills down Matthew’s spine. Something was wrong, very wrong. It went beyond that of a group of people living their religious tenets apart from mainstream society. There was too much fear, too much secrecy.

  The elders were assembled in the meeting room next to the great hall where Sunday services were held. Folding chairs were assembled, Jonathon was at the podium, waiting. His expression was grim.

  “This will be a closed meeting,” he said.

  Raphael turned to the two other escorts and whispered. They turned and left the room, passing Eleanor as she entered.

  Raphael closed the door behind her.

  It
was odd seeing women in the elders’ meeting room. Eleanor and Angel appeared slightly uncomfortable, as if they realized how unwelcome they would have been at any other time.

  Matthew thought it was sad that Jonathon used less than fifty percent of the skills and abilities of the group. By excluding women, he was depriving Zion’s Gate of untold riches.

  “Eleanor, you may sit here.” Jonathon indicated a chair in the front row.

  Matthew guided Angel to two remaining chairs near the back.

  “I have asked you to assemble this evening regarding a very serious matter that has been brought to my attention.” Jonathon’s voice boomed in the small room. “A matter involving a betrayal of our trust.”

  The ache in Matthew’s stomach increased. This was not good.

  “As you all know, we invited Brother Matthew to return to the one true way of life. We were overjoyed when he accepted our invitation and we greeted him with open arms.”

  “Yeah, right,” Angel muttered under her breath, so low only he could hear.

  He nudged her in the ribs with his elbow, frowning at her. Surely she could feel the animosity in the room.

  Her expression was sober. Yes, she understood the gravity of the situation.

  Matthew heard hinges squeak and turned to see who had entered the room. Jumping to his feet, he said, “Rebecca.”

  He moved toward her, but one of the men stepped between them, his manner threatening.

  Rebecca nodded to Matthew but moved to the front of the room. Jonathon guided her to the seat next to Eleanor.

  After all these years, Matthew was finally close to his sister but couldn’t go to her, couldn’t touch her to reassure himself she was real. The only other time he’d felt this powerless was the night he’d left his home of fifteen years.

  Clearing his throat, Jonathon expounded, “As I said, we welcomed Brother Matthew with open arms. We also accepted his bride, Angel. Eleanor took her into her home and treated her as if she were her own daughter.”

  Matthew grasped Angel’s hand. Whatever was coming, they were in it together.

  “Eleanor, please tell the elders what you discovered.” He gestured for her to come forward.

  Eleanor’s back was straight, her chin raised as she approached the podium. She turned, her expression grim. “I have had my doubts about Angel from the start. But I tried to accept her as Matthew’s wife. Tried to befriend her. Today, I found out she has betrayed my trust. Betrayed all our trust.”