by Cindi Myers
Chapter Seventeen
Dwight sipped the tepid hospital coffee and tried to will away the fog of sleeplessness that dulled his senses. The early-morning hours had passed in a blur of dealing with the ambulance and the sheriff, who arrived as the paramedics were wheeling Brenda out of the sheriff’s department. A second ambulance arrived a few minutes later to transport Eddie to the hospital. Travis agreed to go with Eddie, while Dwight followed Brenda.
They had agreed to team up this morning to question Eddie, as soon as doctors gave the go-ahead for them to do so. Dwight stared into the dregs of the coffee and decided he had had enough. He tossed it in the trash can and turned toward the door of the surgery floor waiting room just as Travis walked in. Despite having been awake as many hours as Dwight, Travis managed to look as sharp as ever. Dwight narrowed his eyes at his boss. “How is it you look ready to lead a parade and I feel like death warmed over?” he asked.
“I went home and showered and shaved,” Travis said. “Gage is keeping an eye on Eddie, though I don’t think he’s in any shape to go anywhere.”
“The bullet shattered his collarbone.” Dwight grimaced. “If he hadn’t jerked away, it would have been a heart shot.”
Travis put a hand on Dwight’s shoulder. “If you hadn’t shot him, he would have killed you. Say what you will about the job Eddie did as a reserve officer, but he was always one of the top qualifiers at the range.”
“I’d forgotten about that.” Not that it would have made any difference in how he had reacted last night—his life had been in danger and his training had kicked in to protect him.
“His doctor says we can have a few minutes with him,” Travis said. “He’s on pain medication, but lucid.”
“Let’s hope the meds loosen his tongue enough for him to tell us what’s going on,” Dwight said. Though even then, a good lawyer might argue that Eddie had revealed information under the influence of narcotics. They had enough other evidence against Eddie that it was a chance Travis felt they could take.
“How is Brenda?” Travis asked.
“She’s going to be fine.” Saying the words out loud made him feel a little lighter. “The surgeon was able to remove the bullet, and he said there’s no permanent damage. I looked in on her a little while ago, but she was still sleeping.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Travis said. “Are you ready to talk to Eddie?”
“I am.” He had a lot of things he would like to say to the man who had harassed and almost killed Brenda, but most of them he would have to keep to himself. Knowing Eddie was going to prison for a very long time to pay for what he had done would have to be enough.
Eddie’s room was at the opposite end of the corridor from Brenda’s. Since he was technically in the custody of the Rayford County Sheriff’s Department, he rated a private room, and a guard on duty outside his door 24-7. Gage rose from a chair he’d placed against the wall opposite that door as Travis and Dwight approached.
“He’s awake,” Gage said after the three men exchanged greetings. “I looked in on him a few minutes ago and he wanted to tell me about how none of this was his fault, but I told him to save it for you two.”
“Not his fault?” Dwight shook his head. “This should be interesting.”
Gage checked his phone. “I need to get going if I’m going to make the auction.”
“The auction?” Dwight asked. With everything that had happened in the last few hours, he had forgotten all about the museum’s auction.
“Lacy and Paige decided that they needed to go ahead with it, since some of the bidders are here from out of town,” Travis said. “They wanted to do it for Brenda.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” Dwight said. “Of course, the most valuable item is gone. All that’s left of The Secret History of Rayford Country, Colorado is a bucket of wet ashes.”
“They still want to get what they can,” Gage said. “I’m going to run security, along with one of the reserve officers.”
“You’d better go, then,” Travis said. “We can handle things on this end.” He pushed open the door to Eddie’s room.
A muted television, and a bank of monitors provided the only illumination in the room. Eddie lay on his back in the bed, the head elevated forty-five degrees, a mass of white bandages around his left shoulder. His right hand was cuffed to the railing of the bed, an IV tube trailing from it. He turned his head toward them, his skin pale against a day’s growth of dark beard and the cuts and bruises from his struggles with Dwight. “Hello, Sheriff,” he said, his voice surprisingly clear.
“Hello, Eddie.” Travis stopped beside the bed. “We need to ask you some questions about what happened yesterday.”
“I know. And I can explain everything. I—”
Travis held up one hand. “Before you say anything, I need to tell you that you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say could be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed by the courts.”
“I know my rights,” Eddie said. “I read them off to other people enough. I don’t need a lawyer for what I have to say to you.”
Dwight moved in on the other side of the bed. Eddie turned his head to look at him. “How is Brenda doing?” he asked.
“Why are you even asking?” Dwight said, unable to hold in his anger.
“If she’d just cooperated like I asked her to, none of this would have happened,” he said, his voice a plaintive whine.
“Were you the one who sent those threatening notes to Brenda?” Travis asked.
“I didn’t do it for myself,” Eddie said. “It was a matter of national security. All she had to do was get rid of that book.”
Travis’s and Dwight’s eyes met across the bed. National security? “Why was that book so important?” Travis asked.
“The man who hired me told me I had to make sure it was destroyed so that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“Who was this man?” Travis asked.
“I don’t know his real name,” Dwight said. “He told me to call him B.”
“Bee?” Dwight asked.
“The letter B. He called me E. They were, like, code names. He worked for a top-secret government agency.”
“Did he show you credentials?” Travis asked.
“Of course he did.” Eddie looked indignant. “I’m not stupid.”
“And his credentials said his name was B?” Dwight asked.
“Yes.” Eddie glared at them.
“What branch of the government was he from?” Travis asked.
Eddie frowned. “Something top secret. I mean, his credentials said Department of Homeland Security, but the more we talked, the more I got the impression that he was really CIA or something like that.”
“What did he promise you in exchange for your help?” Travis asked.
“He told me he could get me a job with the Secret Service.”
“Is that all?” Travis asked.
“He paid me a lot of money. Ten thousand dollars. Don’t look at me that way! Since you fired me from the sheriff’s department, my bills have been piling up. I needed that money.”
Travis leaned over the bed railing. “Eddie, why would the Feds ask you to threaten Brenda Stenson?”
“I wasn’t threatening her. I was just, you know, intimidating her so that she’d get rid of that book. B said it was a security risk and we couldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”
“Did he say why?” Travis asked.
“No.”
“Did you ask?” Dwight asked.
Eddie looked even more sullen. “No.”
“Did you burn down Brenda’s house?” Dwight asked.
Eddie shifted in the bed. “I think I need to speak to my lawyer.”
“You’re in
this so deep no lawyer is going to be able to get you out,” Dwight said. “Your only chance is to help us get to the truth.”
“B was putting a lot of pressure on me. He said I was failing my country. I figured if I destroyed her house, I’d destroy the book and the problem would be solved. I figured she had insurance, and I knew she wasn’t home. I mean, I’d never hurt her, even if she does treat me like something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe.”
“Where did you get that crime scene photo of Andy Stenson?” Dwight asked.
Eddie flushed and looked away. “I don’t see why that matters.”
“Did you take it from the case file when you were with the department?” Travis asked.
“You’ll never prove it,” Eddie said.
“What do you know about Henry Hake’s death?” Travis asked.
“Nothing! I didn’t have anything to do with that. All I did was try to get Brenda to get rid of that book, like B asked. You find him and he’ll tell you.”
“How do we get in touch with him?” Travis asked.
“I don’t know. He always got in touch with me. But he must be staying nearby. Maybe you could just call the Department of Homeland Security and ask.”
“We will,” Travis said. Though Dwight had his doubts they would find out anything.
“What was in the book that was so important?” Travis asked. “Did he give you any indication?”
“I already told you, I don’t know. He said I didn’t need to know.”
No one would know now, Dwight thought, since the book had been destroyed.
“I know you think what I did was wrong,” Eddie said. “But I didn’t have a choice. B threatened to kill me if I didn’t get the job done—the sleeping-pill-laced pizza was supposed to prove how easily he could get to me.”
“Was B the man you were meeting with at the restaurant that night Brenda and Lacy and the others saw you?” Dwight asked. “Did he slash the tires on Parker’s car?”
“I don’t know anything about that. And I’m not going to say anything else.” He sagged back against the pillow, his face pale. “I’m exhausted and in pain. You can’t badger me this way.”
Travis looked at Dwight and jerked his head toward the door. Dwight followed him out. “Do you buy his story, about all this being his patriotic duty?” Dwight asked.
“I think the money and the promise of the Secret Service job and the idea of being a hero would appeal to him,” Travis said. “I’ll talk to Lacy and get her description of the man who was with Eddie that night at the restaurant.”
“I remember Brenda saying they didn’t get a good look at the man—his face was in shadow.”
“We’ll get what we can.”
“I’m wondering if B was Robert Brownley,” Dwight said. “If he’s the one who gave Eddie the doctored pizza, we know he was at the museum that evening.”
“Good thinking,” Travis said. “Get Brownley’s description from Brenda and we’ll compare notes.”
“I’m going down to check on her now,” Dwight said. “If she’s awake, I’ll ask her.”
* * *
BRENDA HAD BEEN awake for some time that morning. There was nothing like a near-death experience to make a person take stock of her life. She had made some bad decisions, and had had more than her share of bad breaks, but instead of focusing on the past, she needed to come up with a plan for the future.
A light tapping attracted her attention to the door. Dwight leaned in. “Feel like some company?” he asked.
“Definitely.” She found the controls for the bed and elevated the head so that she could get a better look at him.
“Why are you frowning at me?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.
“You look worn out,” she said. Two black eyes from his broken nose and the dark shadow of beard along his jaw made him look dangerous—and utterly weary. “Have you been home at all since last night?”
“I’ll go in a little bit. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
She reached up and took his hand. He squeezed it, and the tenderness in his touch made her feel a little choked up. She cleared her throat. If she started crying, he would think something was wrong. “I’m going to be fine,” she said. “The surgeon said so. I can probably go home this afternoon.”
“You’ll come back to my place,” he said.
She might have argued, but why bother? With him was where she wanted to be. “That sounds good. But it’s going to be a while, so you should try to get a few hours’ sleep. I can get Lacy to take me to you if you aren’t back when the doctor signs the discharge papers.”
“Lacy is going to be busy for a while,” he said.
“Oh? What? Did she and Travis decide to elope or something?”
He smiled, a little more life coming into his eyes. “Nothing like that. But she and Paige are handling the auction at the museum.”
“The auction?” She tried to sit up, and regretted it as pain shot through her bandaged shoulder. With a groan, she settled back against the pillows. “I’ve been lying here, trying to convince myself that it didn’t matter that we had to cancel the auction. But they’re going through with it?”
“With some of the bidders here from out of town, they figured they had better.”
“That’s so sweet of them. Though the most valuable item we had is gone now.”
“You still had a lot of items left. You’ll bring in a good chunk of change.”
Not enough, she thought. But no sense dwelling on that. “How is Eddie?” she asked. “I know they rushed him into surgery before me.”
“His recovery is going to take a little longer, but he’ll live.” Dwight certainly wasn’t smiling now. “He admitted he sent you those threatening letters—and he burned down your house.”
“But why?” She had scarcely said a dozen words to Eddie Carstairs in all the years they had both lived in Eagle Mountain.
“Apparently, someone posing as a federal agent offered him a lot of money to make sure the book was destroyed.”
“What was so important about that book?” she asked. “I read through it more than once and I couldn’t see anything significant there.”
“I don’t know. And Eddie says he doesn’t know, either.”
“Then why would he agree to do it—to harass me and commit arson—even threaten to kill the two of us? Surely he isn’t that hard up and greedy.”
“You know Eddie always wanted to be a hero. This man—who I don’t for a minute believe was really with the government—convinced Eddie that he had to destroy the book to keep it out of enemy hands—that it was a matter of national security. When Eddie failed the first couple of tries, this mysterious agent delivered that doctored pizza—supposedly to prove how easily he could kill Eddie if he wanted to. That made him desperate to fulfill his ‘mission.’”
Brenda tried to take this all in. “That’s incredible. Do you think this mysterious secret agent is the one who ran me off the road and shot me?”
“Maybe.”
“Did Eddie tell you how to find this supposed agent?” she asked.
“He says he doesn’t know. The only name he has is B. But I’m wondering if it was Robert Brownley—or rather, the man who came to you posing as Robert Brownley. I don’t think that’s his real name.”
“He was very insistent on getting his hands on the book that night. And I’ll admit he seemed rather menacing.” She shivered, remembering being alone with the man.
“Do you think the man who attacked you and the man who posed as Robert Brownley were the same person?” Dwight asked.
“I don’t know. It was dark and he wore that mask.” She shook her head. “Maybe.”
“I need you to give me your description of him again,” Dwight said. “We’re going to use every resource we can to find him.”
She
closed her eyes, trying to remember. “So much has happened since then,” she said. “I don’t know if I can give you enough information.”
“Take your time. Describe him to me—what he looked like, as well as your impressions.”
“He was in his forties, I think. Average height and build. Dark hair. His eyes were light—gray, I think, and really intense. I guess my biggest impression of him was that he was the kind of man who was used to getting what he wanted. Powerful—but personality-wise, not so much physically. He was well-dressed. His suit looked expensive, not off-the-rack. And he drove that black Land Rover—not a cheap car.” Her eyes met Dwight’s. “He looked like what he said he was—a rich businessman.”
“I may ask you to look at some photographs later and see if you recognize him.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“We may be too late,” Dwight said. “My guess is that now that he got what he wanted and the book is gone, he’ll leave the county, maybe even the country.”
“Give Travis my description and then promise me you’ll go home and get some sleep,” she said. “You’re not going to be good to anyone if you fall asleep at the wheel of your cruiser.”
“I could get used to you nagging me that way.” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. When he started to pull away, she grabbed his collar and prolonged the embrace. When at last she released him, he looked decidedly less weary. Later, they would talk, and she would tell him some things she had decided.
In the meantime, she liked giving him something to think about.
Chapter Eighteen
Dwight gave Travis Brenda’s description of Brownley, then did as he had promised and went home, where he slept for four hours before a phone call awakened him. Groggily, he groped for the cell phone and answered it.
“You need to get back to the hospital,” Travis said. “The judge is on her way over to conduct the arraignment for Eddie.”
Dwight checked the clock at his bedside—it was almost one in the afternoon. “That was quick.”