Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6)

by Freya Barker

  _

  "That's bizarre. So you haven't been able to get hold of him at all?"

  It's Wednesday night and Kerry came by the office after she closed for the day, asking me to go out for dinner with her. Her husband is out of town on a job in Silverton and has been gone since this weekend. Instead of dinner out, I'd convinced her to come home with me so I could let Boo out and promised to order something in.

  I just finished telling her about my ultrasound today. The technician had mentioned the results would be with Doc Waters sometime tomorrow since she'd requested they be faxed to her. The moment I got back to the office I called the clinic to set up an appointment for Monday.

  I happened to mention not being able to get hold of Martin, when I realized I hadn't informed her yet on anything that happened since I left the office early on Friday.

  "Nothing. He apparently left the hotel a day early and wasn't on his scheduled flight back. It's not like him to not answer his phone or messages either. I haven't told you everything though," I tell her as we're cleaning away the remnants from Hunan's chicken lo mein and vegetable egg rolls. Kerry stops wiping the counter and turns to me.

  "What do you mean, you haven't told me everything?"

  I launch into a short description of lunch at Arlene's Diner, my visit to the Walker's farm as well as the sheriff and investigator showing up at my house. "Initially I thought the guy I'd seen pulling into the Walker driveway might have been part of the attack on the family, but when I saw him standing in my own driveway together with the sheriff, I realized I'd been at least partially wrong. He's involved, but as part of an investigation into my boss," I finish.

  "Seriously? Martin? I mean I know you told me a few weeks ago that he hadn't been himself and seemed to keep you out of his recent business dealings, but I never suspected anything nefarious."

  I pour us a glass of wine and handing Kerry hers, I lead her into the living room where I plop into my favorite chair. "Well, no one seems to know exactly what is going on, but the letter he gave me to drop off at the Walkers’ indicated he was under some pressure by whomever is financing the purchase of those farms. Something big is going on. Big enough for Martin to disappear."

  "Have you looked in his office yet?" Kerry wants to know.

  "Can't get in. He locked the door when he left and must've taken the key with him. That alone is weird because he never used to lock it and even if he did, I'd at least have the spare key. I found out the key I have doesn't fit the lock on there now."

  "If I were you I'd leave it alone. In fact, if I were you I'd be looking for another job because this just doesn't sound right to me." Her eyes on me are concerned.

  "I know. It's just that the sheriff made sure to let me know that doing any snooping of my own could jeopardize their investigation, but the judge apparently doesn't want to sign a search warrant at this time. Not enough evidence or something. Carmel says Mal is out of town and to leave things in their hands. I'm sure I could find a way into his office though. I might find something helpful."

  "Who's Mal?" she asks with an eyebrow raised.

  "Oh, didn't I mention him? It's the name of the investigator. I think his full name is Malachi Whitetail." I try to sound nonchalant but I can feel my cheeks flush. It doesn't go unnoticed by Kerry, who leans forward, elbows on her knees and her chin resting in her hands. Her eyebrows do a slow lift.

  "Sounds intriguing. What does he look like?"

  "Oh, I don't know. He's tall. Long black hair he keeps tied back. I'm thinking he's Native American." I try not to let on that I seem to have his features seared in my brain.

  I dare a peek at Kerry, and find her narrowing her eyes at me, a knowing smile gracing her face. "You sound different when you talk about him. You like him?"

  I knew that was coming. Kerry always seems to be on the look out for a love-interest for me. I've told her many times before I'm not one for any kind of romantic entanglement, but she always brushes me off. She's also fiercely protective of me, so I know exactly how to nip this little fantasy she's creating in her head in the bud. "He's called me fat twice. Made it clear I could never be his type. So no, I don't like him. He's an asshole."

  Just as expected, I can almost see Kerry's bristles go up. "He said that about you? To your face?"

  "Well no, but I overheard him twice, saying exactly that."

  "Forget that. Already I know he's a douche. Can't appreciate the beauty you offer? He's an idiot."

  She's so riled up it makes me burst out laughing.

  "Relax. I don't even know him and likely won't have to see him again."

  After steering the conversation in safer waters, namely books, the rest of the evening is spent discussing our most recent, favorite reads.

  -

  It's been a week since I talked to Martin last Friday morning, and I've been fielding phone calls all week trying to cover for his absence. One man with a strong Texan accent by the name of Jacob Hartnett, has called almost every day with increasing urgency. I've had to tell him I don't know Martin's whereabouts and he was not happy. I haven't heard a thing from Sheriff Carmel or Mal, although I suspect they're keeping an eye on the office. Nothing has happened and I'm obviously not in the loop so I'm getting fed up with being in the dark.

  Mal

  Three days I've been stuck in my truck with a camera as my only companion, wishing I was keeping an eye on another woman and for a totally different reason. I'm silently cursing the idiot who hired GFI to get intel on his wife's so-called affair. So far I have shots of her going in and out of a restaurant to meet up with some girlfriends. I know, because I slipped in after her and caught a glimpse of her at the table, gabbing and smiling with two other women. Next up was the mall where I had to pretend to enjoy window-shopping so I could keep an eye on her. An hour and forty-five minute stop at a local animal shelter where I spotted her playing with a few dogs in an outside run and finally a visit to the grocery store before she was home again. Almost the same pattern as the past few days. Life of the privileged, where the biggest concern every day is which puppy to give your attention, which credit card to use today, or what you’ll serve up for dinner. Yet so far the wife has done absolutely nothing to suggest she might be having an affair. I'm irritated as fuck that a job, which was supposed to be a simple couple of days, has already run long. I know Gus is making the client pay through the nose, it's the only way he'd even consider taking on jobs like these. Not necessarily a service GFI advertises, but he is an existing client; CEO for a large national chain of auto-parts stores we'd done some security for.

  I'm about to head out to grab some dinner when I see a shadow in the alley between their house and the next. Someone is slipping into the side door. A quick look to the neighboring house shows a Porsche Cayenne sitting in the driveway. From what I've seen, the man who lives there drives it, his wife has a Ford Mustang convertible. Young couple too, much younger than our client who is in his sixties, and the wife I've been following, who is maybe ten or so years younger. Looks great for her age but still, there's gotta be at least twenty years between my target and the next-door neighbor.

  Could be innocent. Could be he's simply helping to screw in a light bulb while the man of the house is supposed to be on a business trip. But somehow I don't think so. The guy's movements in the ally were too tentative—too careful. Our client is holed up in a hotel on the other side of town. His suggestion, not ours, wanting to create opportunity for the wife to stray. And by the looks of this afternoon's development he may get what he's looking for.

  With adrenaline pumping and focus firmly on the case at hand, I quietly close the truck door and slip across the street and down the alley. Soundlessly, I manage to open the same side door. People are fucking stupid. So caught up in their illicit affair, they forget to lock up behind them. Idiots.

  I walk carefully through an empty kitchen, following the noises that are coming from the other side of the hallway, where I know there is a laundry room and an office.
I'd have expected them to head upstairs to one of the bedrooms, but it's clear they had something else in mind. From the sounds I hear, it's obvious they are getting it on. I hate this part of the job. Don't particularly get off on watching random people fuck.

  Sneaking over to the office door, where it's obvious they've ended up, I see they've left the door open. Not all the way, but enough for me to pinpoint their position from the crack on the side of the hinges. The woman is leaning back on the edge of the desk, her arms behind her and her legs splayed open. The dressing gown she was obviously wearing is gaping open and hooked in the crook of her arms. The 'boy' next door is on his knees, her feet propped up on his shoulders and he is going to town between her legs. I slide the camera to the open side of the door and manage to snap off a series of shots before slipping back down the hall and out the door. They never knew I was in there, which is one of the reasons Gus likes me on these jobs. I'm silent. For good measure, I walk around the back of the house to the office window where I'm able to catch a frontal view of him nailing her from behind on the same desk. They hadn't even closed the blinds all the way. The images would have enough visible to properly identify the people involved.

  Fuck, I'm glad that's done.

  Once in the truck and on the road, I contact Gus right away.

  "Got 'em."

  "No shit? Thought the client was paranoid, but I guess he had it right. I'll give him a head's up right away. See if—"

  I cut Gus off. "No offense, boss, but I couldn’t care less what the guy wants now. I'll find a quiet spot, upload the pics and then I'm heading home."

  I hear Gus's chuckle on the other side. "None taken. Sorry to call you away from the job here, but you are the best person to slip in and out of situations undetected. And just so you know, things have been pretty quiet here this week. No sign of Vedica and nothing happening at the office. The assistant closed the office about an hour ago and went home, so all is quiet. You can crash there and make your way back here in the morning. Get a good night's sleep?"

  "I'm good. Want my own bed." My own bed, my own apartment above the diner and who am I kidding, I want to make sure myself the little mouse is holed up safely for the night. Tomorrow I'll try to get up to speed with whatever Neil may have stirred up.

  -

  A little over three-and-a-half hours later, I drive past Kimeo Lowe's bungalow. It's eleven thirty at night, and her car is not in the driveway. Whatever it is that drove me out this way is making me turn the truck around to drive along Main Street where most of the Cortez nightlife, such as it is, takes place. When I can't find her signature little blue Honda anywhere, I have one more card up my sleeve. Her voluptuous backside will be sore for weeks if I find her at the real estate office, but it's the only place I can think of.

  Sure enough, a block from the office I find her car parked on the street. Thank fuck she was smart enough not to park in the parking lot. I park the truck a few cars behind hers and walk. The office is dark and the front door is locked. I head around the side alley where I find a second door. This one isn't locked so I carefully push it open, hand on my gun. I can't hear anything, but a familiar coppery tang hits my nostrils. Without hesitation, I flick the first light switch I come to. About ten feet in front of me, halfway down the hall, is the body of a man. Lying halfway out of the office and into the hallway, he is surrounded by a substantial pool of blood. On soft feet I edge along the wall toward the body, and with my gun now in hand, I swing around, crouching low in the doorway. The office is empty. It's been tossed but no one is here now. A quick check for a pulse reveals the man on the floor is quite dead. Fuck. Where is that woman? Is she hurt? Did she do this?

  A slight sound hits my ears. Nothing much. It could've just been air through a vent, but it raises the hair on my neck. I retrace my steps down the hall until I’m standing in front of a door I passed by earlier in the dark. I note that the door is narrower than the office door and from the way it apparently hinges into the hall, I figure it's likely a supply closet or bathroom. Pressing my ear to it I don't hear anything at first, but then the sound I'd heard earlier is clear. Sounds of shaky inhalations—someone is in there. Not taking any chances, I press my back against the wall to the side of the door, carefully turn the knob and feel no resistance. Before I can pull open the door all the way it is yanked out of my hand and a short figure tries to dart past me. My body instantly recognizes who it is when my arm snakes around her from behind and pulls her into my body. Despite the tense situation, her rounded shape feels good pressed against my body. My free hand claps over her mouth before she has a chance to scream and I tuck my head in her neck.

  "Hush, Nizhóní. Let me make sure there's no one else."

  I know she recognizes my voice when she immediately stops struggling and turns in my arms. One moment I'm holding on to her to keep her from running, and the next she's clinging to me with her hands clutched in my shirt and her face buried against my chest.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kim

  "I can't explain, but I need you in the office right away."

  I knew coming had been a bad idea. At least coming without warning anyone.

  I park the car some distance away, just like Martin had asked. The only light I'm able to see on is in the back, probably coming from his office. Instead of unlocking the front door, I walk around the side to get in the backdoor. The moment I'm inside Martin comes barreling out of his office, a gun visible in his hand stopping me in my tracks.

  "Martin!" I yell, my hands up in front of me.

  "Jesus, Kim. I expected you to come in the front," he exclaims lowering the gun in his hand.

  Never have I looked down the barrel of a weapon and I'm pretty sure it's not an experience I'd like to repeat. I almost pissed myself.

  "What the hell, Martin. You're freaking me out. What's going on? Where have you been?"

  He waves his hand dismissively. "No time to explain. Here, take this and go." He presses what appears to be a flash drive in my hand.

  "Wait. What? What am I supposed to do with this?"

  "Keep it safe. Hide it somewhere. I have to destroy all physical evidence," he says, turning back into his office.

  My head is spinning. I have no clue what's going on, but his demeanor is making me very uncomfortable. When I follow him into his office, I catch him tearing up papers and feeding them into the shredder. His eyes snap to me and I see fear and anger in them.

  "Jesus, Kim, would you get out of here?"

  "I don't understand."

  "There is no fucking time. I'm sure they're not far behind me. Get the fuck out!"

  Just as I'm backing out of the office, a loud banging comes from the front door.

  "Too fucking late..." All color drains from his face when he turns to me. "Hide. Right now, hide!"

  He barely has the words out of his mouth when I hear a loud bang followed by a large crash. He grabs my arm and shoves me down the hall, where my only options are the outside door—which doesn't seem like a smart option—or the supply closet. Settling on the latter, I pull open the door and turn around to see Martin disappear into his office again. I try not to listen to the voices yelling from the front office and slip inside, pulling the door closed behind me.

  Footsteps come from down the hall toward me when I hear a string of curses in what I'm pretty sure is Martin's voice. I can only hear the rumble of male voices after that, until a scream pierces the air followed immediately by a gunshot.

  Oh my fucking God. Oh my God.

  With my back braced against the wall I sink down to the floor, my fists jammed in my mouth to stop from screaming. My entire body starts shaking and bile creeps up my throat. It takes me a few moments to register the warm flush between my legs as my bladder letting go.

  How long I've been sitting here like this, I don't know. I remember the sound of crashes, maybe furniture being upended, and later the heavy tread of footsteps heading toward the front. After that, time becomes a blank. That is, until I
hear someone entering through the backdoor. Did they come back? Have they realized I'm still here? When I hear the sound of the light switch and see the glare through the crack at the bottom of the door, I push myself up to my feet. My arms are wrapped around my middle, and I'm desperately trying to control my breathing.

  The moment I see the doorknob start turning, I know I have to run and when I hear the latch release I throw myself against the door with all my might.

  As soon as my feet start moving, a band of steel closes around my waist and pulls me into a hard wall of muscle. I don't get a chance to scream because a hand slaps over my mouth.

  "Hush, Nizhóní. Let me make sure there's no one else."

  I know that deep voice and I no sooner hear it before I swing around, burying my face in his shirt. Mal.

  "It's okay," he murmurs, his hand on the back of my head, pressing me into his body.

  "I peed myself," I mumble into his shirt. Jesus, what the hell possessed me to blurt that out?

  He gently pushes on my shoulders to move me back a little and looks down on me. "I've got some sweats in the truck you can borrow. You can change while I make some calls.” When he turns me in the direction of the backdoor, I can't resist looking back over my shoulder. Don't know what I expected to find, I heard the struggle and the gunshot, yet the sight of my boss lying unmoving in a puddle of blood is a shock. I clap my hand over my mouth to stop from tossing my cookies and a firm arm around my shoulders pulls me out of the hallway and into the alley.

  The cool fresh air helps as I take in large gulps while Mal silently guides me down the block. I'm surprised to see his truck parked two cars behind mine. He opens the door and hoists me into the cab. Rooting around in the back, he comes up with a pair of grey sweatpants he tosses in my lap.

  "You put these on first, before you freeze to death. I've gotta make some calls."

  Slamming the door shut, he turns his back and puts a phone to his ear. I'm high up enough that no one can see what I'm doing, as long as I keep my ass lower than the bottom of the window.