by DiAnn Mills
Standing at the window overlooking the street, a man she didn’t recognize observed the agents—three fingers in his jean pocket. Firm jaw. Expressionless. Mid- to late thirties.
Sally rushed into Tori’s arms. “I’m so glad you came. I wanted to call about Nathan, but one thing after another kept happening. Who contacted you? Jack?”
For the first time, Tori longed for a simple career. “Neither of the boys called me.”
Sally stepped back, her eyes wide. “You’re here in agent capacity? I was told the FBI had been contacted, but—”
Tori took her friend’s hands. “I’m sorry. We’ve been briefed on all that’s happened. Nathan’s death may have been the result of criminal activity.” She hated the ordeal for Sally. “This is my partner, Special Agent Max Dublin.”
Max nodded. “Sorry for your loss.”
Maybe he’d behave himself. When the interview was over, they needed to have a talk. Lately, his mannerisms breached FBI protocol.
“Is Agent Templeton’s presence a problem?”
“I suppose better a friend than a stranger. I know you’ll get to the bottom of what happened to Nathan. I tried to save him, but my efforts were useless. When the doctor reported he was gone, I called his cardiologist. I want to know what happened and why his pacemaker failed.”
Jack bolted from the sofa. “The cops and FBI are Lance’s fault.”
Sally released Tori’s hands and moved to her son. “Your brother’s hurting, like you.” She focused on Tori. “This is about the threats made on Nathan’s life on the heels of the drill site bombing, right? I mean, who listens to a teen grieving the loss of his father?”
Tori captured her gaze. “Your attorney’s statement about Nathan fearing for his life and needing to hire additional bodyguards has to be looked into. Add to the mix what Lance said in the presence of the officer, and questions must be asked to find out what happened tonight.”
Sally whirled to the nameless man by the window and back to Tori. “That’s insane. You heard Lance say he was glad Nathan’s gone, but he didn’t mean it. Nathan was a wonderful husband and father. You saw him in action.”
“Sally, where is Lance?”
“In his room. Do you have to question him?”
“Yes. In a few minutes.”
Jack wrapped an arm around his mother’s waist. His light-brown eyes matched Nathan’s, and he was nearly as tall. “I won’t leave you, Mom.”
Always the sweet, devoted boy. Reminded her of Kevin at his age.
The man posed by the window joined them and reached out his hand. “Cole Jeffers.” The intensity in his eyes held her for a moment. Still no readable emotion. The fresh scent of the outdoors met her senses.
She took his hand firmly. “Special Agent Tori Templeton.” Why hadn’t she heard his name before? “We haven’t met.”
“You don’t know Cole?” Sally frowned. “He’s been a family friend for years.”
“I’m the yardman,” Cole said.
Odd a yardman had shown up in her friend’s dark hour, bearing a name Tori had never heard before. She and Sally talked about everything . . . but not this guy.
Sally dabbed beneath her eyes. “He’s taken care of the landscaping for Moore Oil & Gas and our home for a long time. Since he arrived a few minutes ago, he’s been a comfort in the midst of our loss.” She hesitated. “Maybe Nathan or I referred to him as CJ. That was the boys’ nickname.”
Relief eased Tori’s frazzled mind. She’d heard the name reference but thought CJ was a neighbor. She took in his jeans and T-shirt—muscles that would rival a model’s on a weight lifting magazine. Sky-blue eyes and a day-old growth gave him a certain ruggedness. Nothing like Nathan, who always appeared spit polished. A good-looking yardman who arrived shortly after his employer’s death? Max was no doubt having a field day with this.
And Tori hated where her suspicions were going.
“Mr. Jeffers, who contacted you?” Tori said, ignoring Max’s instructions for him to pose questions.
“Jack called. Asked me to come by. Sally didn’t object due to the circumstances.”
For Jack or for his mother? And why was Lance in his room alone?
Max coughed. “Mrs. Moore, I’d like to speak to you privately. Without your sons.”
Sally blinked. “Will Tori be coming too?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The kitchen okay?”
“Mom, you need me with you,” Jack said.
Max raised his hand. “It’s important your sons not be present during the interview. I have matters about tonight to discuss.”
“All right. Isn’t Tori your partner, or do you have a policy against agents asking friends questions?” Sally rubbed her face. “Whatever you need. I’m too spent to argue.” She turned to Jack. “Stay with Cole and away from Lance.”
“I’ll keep him company,” Cole said. “Are you sure about not having an attorney present?”
“Yes. I’ve nothing to hide. The misunderstanding will soon be cleared up.”
Downstairs in the kitchen, an open room with white cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and white stone trim, they sat at a black-and-white round table.
“You have my permission to record anything I say,” Sally said. “All I know is my husband suffered a heart attack and died.”
Max pressed the Record button on his cell phone. “Your name and address . . .”
For the next several minutes, Tori mentally weighed her friend’s responses. No face or throat touching. No hesitation or lack of conversational eye contact. Nothing to indicate deceit. Max’s absurd accusations made Tori furious.
“Do you give your consent for us to take your husband’s laptop to the FBI for mirror imaging?”
“No. All of his business files are there. I’d need a signed court order.”
“All right.” He sighed. “What time did you leave your room for the pool?”
“Almost 9:30. The security cameras will show that. You can check them.”
“Why were you by the pool alone?”
“Listening to water flow from the landscape rocks relaxes me. Too early to go to bed.” She drew in a breath. “Tori can vouch I do this regularly.”
Tori slipped out of agent mode. “We’ve enjoyed the pool and talked there many times. Sometimes Nathan or the boys joined us.”
“What about Mr. Jeffers?” Max said.
“Yes. As I said, he’s a family friend.”
“But Agent Templeton has never met him, and I thought you two were close friends.”
“I was unaware of the oversight until a bit ago.”
“How convenient. The security monitors show you left the pool at approximately 10:00 and returned to the pool at 10:25. Where did you go?”
She glared at Max, then looked at Tori. “Is this really necessary?”
Tori spoke gentleness into her tone. “I suggest cooperating no matter how offensive the question.”
Sally closed her eyes. “I slipped into the laundry room, unloaded towels from the dryer, and folded them. Straightened up the room because the boys had friends over earlier and went swimming. They hadn’t picked up their wet things. The towels are on the laundry room counter if you’d like to check, and the wet trunks are in the washer.”
Max smiled. “Thank you. Were you aware your husband discussed with his attorney the need for added security here and at his workplace?”
Tori feared her friend would crumble.
“He said added protection would begin today,” Sally said. “He’d increased the number from two to four. After the bombing and threats on his life, he was concerned about us.”
“Where were they this evening?”
“Home, I assume. Their contract is from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m., unless Nathan wasn’t here. He didn’t like anyone invading his privacy. But beginning today, the protection would be 24-7. I gave Detective Hernandez their names and the private firm’s number.”
“Did Nathan voice any extra precautions
?”
“Yes. The boys were to give me their whereabouts at all times. They were to attend school functions only, and I wasn’t to leave the house without an escort.”
“Did he mention a name or names of anyone he suspected?”
“No.”
“What about the divorce?’”
Sally inhaled sharply. “He made the announcement after informing us about additional bodyguards.”
“Are you saying he looks out for you and his sons, then asks for a divorce?”
“Yes.”
“Your response?”
“I protested, of course, but he’d already made the decision,” she said.
“When you returned to the house from the pool, what caused you to check on your husband?”
“I told the police I heard a crash. It’s in their report. So I went in to find the source.”
“Weren’t you afraid?”
“We have a solid security system. My first thought was a picture had fallen from the wall.”
Max lifted a brow but said nothing. “Then what happened?”
“I searched the downstairs calling out for Nathan until I found him in his office.” She wrung her hands. “I . . . I checked his pulse while calling 911 from his cell phone on the floor beside him. When he didn’t have a pulse and wasn’t breathing, I suspected a heart attack. He’d been under tremendous stress with business matters. Repeated attempts at resuscitation produced nothing.” She trembled and seemingly fought for composure. “I then called Jacob Farr and learned more about the threats.”
“Why? Were you bored waiting for the ambulance?”
Sally stiffened. “It was the last call Nathan made, and I wanted to know what was said.”
“Why?”
Her face reddened. “As our attorney, I thought he might know something that could have led to Nathan’s death.”
“And?”
Contempt etched her features. “You already confirmed the call, so what more do you want? My husband died tonight, and some are saying he was murdered. I’m upset and grieving.” She buried her face in her hands.
“If you’re innocent, why didn’t you call Tori?”
“Max!” Tori wanted to punch him.
Sally drew in a steadying breath. “Agent Dublin, I’ve been friends with Tori for years, and your method of conducting an interview is inappropriate by any standards. For your information, I wanted to call her, but I lean on her too much as it is.”
“Your husband’s death looks like a solid reason to call her.” He squinted as though reading her features. “What happened then, Mrs. Moore?”
“Jack and Lance came downstairs in time to see Nathan pushed out into an ambulance. I drove us to the hospital. There a doctor confirmed he’d passed. The boys and I said our good-byes. I contacted Nathan’s cardiologist for answers about what happened with his pacemaker. When we arrived home, three police officers and a detective were waiting. They asked me questions and said they were contacting the FBI.” She focused on Tori. “I will get through this.”
“Believe it,” Tori said. “Sal, we have to talk to Lance.”
“He’s been in his room since Jack gave him a black eye. First time little brother ever stood up for himself.”
“Why did they fight?”
“Because of Lance’s outburst. I can’t fault either boy. Lance simply speaks before thinking about the impact of his words. Jack told him to shut up, and the verbal battle started. Lance pushed him, and Jack punched him. An officer broke it up. I got an ice pack for Lance’s eye, and he took off to his room. I tried talking to him, but he refused to open the door. Can we make this short? I’m exhausted.”
“Agent Templeton and I will do our best. Why did the younger boy call Mr. Jeffers?”
“How many times do I need to answer the same questions? Cole is a family friend, like an uncle to the boys.”
Max cleared his throat. “Mrs. Moore, you thought it was okay for your son to call another man, but not a woman for yourself?”
Sally, be careful. Max will twist your words.
“Jack and Lance needed a man to identify with. If I craved a friend, I’d have contacted Tori.”
“But you didn’t. So obviously Mr. Jeffers handled your emotional needs too?”
“My attorney will be notified about your unprofessional method of interviewing an innocent woman.”
He snorted. “I don’t have any more questions.” He slid a rock-hard look at Tori. “Do you?”
Tori touched Sally’s arm. “Nothing at the moment, except to talk to Lance.”
Max scooted back his chair. “I’m ready. The forty-eight-hour rule is ticking away.”
Max always had this immediacy thing going—granted, he was right. People had a habit of forgetting or confusing facts within hours after a crime was committed. The three left the kitchen and wound through the dining area to the foyer, up the stairs, past Cole Jeffers and Jack, and to Lance’s room.
Sally knocked. “Lance, open the door. Two FBI agents need to talk to you. One of them is Tori.”
“I don’t want to talk to anybody.”
“They need to know why you think I might have hurt your dad.”
“My business.”
Sally covered her mouth. In the next breath, she arched her shoulders. “Lance Moore, please open the door.”
Tori had seen mother and son butt heads before. “Lance, this is Tori. I’m here with my partner. One way or another, we’re talking to you.”
His vile response wasn’t worth repeating.
COLE EXCUSED HIMSELF from Jack in the upstairs media room and hurried down the hall to Lance’s bedroom. No excuse for the kid’s language. Sally and Nathan had spent many a sleepless night over his behavior. Lack of discipline bred rebellion, and rebellion paved the road to criminal activities.
“What are you doing?” Max Dublin reminded him of a Saint Bernard with drooping eyes and jaw. But Cole doubted he was “man’s best friend.”
“I’m going to use my relationship with Lance to persuade him to open the door.” Cole spoke slowly and eyed the agent. “Enough trouble has erupted in this house tonight.” He caught Sally’s attention.
“I know what you’re thinking, Cole,” she said. “Lance can be difficult, and he’s pushing all of us. I think breaking in the door seems harsh in view of his father’s death and law enforcement swarming our home. Besides, privacy is important to a teenager.”
“I agree his solitude should be respected, but not when the FBI wants to question him about something he said.”
Sally sighed. “Let me talk to him a little longer. He just needs a gentle hand.”
“Go away, all of you.” Lance tossed more profanity than Cole had heard in the landscaping business. “I have the right to do whatever I want.”
She dug her fingers into her palms. Her face was etched with pain . . . and frustration. “Go ahead.”
Cole knocked on the door. “Lance, this is CJ. Jack asked me to come by. He told me everything that happened last night.”
“Right. Dad’s junk tossed at us. I’m still not opening the door.”
“I have no choice but to force my way inside.” Cole pulled out his pocketknife and picked the lock. Turning the knob, he pointed to the open door for the agents to enter. “Lance, cooperate or you’ll make things worse for your family.” When the kid spit out a curse word, Cole stepped inside the room ahead of the agents and focused on the teen. Lance held an ice pack over his eye. His actions were more wounded pride than anything else. “This is not just about you. Settle down. For no other reason than your mother’s sake.”
Lance threw the ice pack at him, but Cole caught it and didn’t budge. Oh, the predictability and mystery of teen boys.
“Are you going to punch me?” Lance sneered.
“Jack has the corner on that one,” Cole said.
“Why don’t you gas up the lawn mower? Seems to be the only thing you know.”
“Hey.” Cole forced a friendlier to
ne when he wanted to hurl a few words about the kid’s attitude. “Your mother needs your support.”
“Now I’m the bad guy?”
“No. You’re a young man who lost his father, and there’s an investigation that requires your help.”
Lance glanced away from those in the room, then turned to Agent Templeton. “My mom would never do anything to hurt my dad. Or anyone. She’s too good and kind—always puts us first. Dad told her he wanted a divorce in front of Jack and me. When she told him she loved him and asked if they could talk alone, he said he was done with all of us. Flipped over a glass of iced tea. Then said we were a liability.” His eyes narrowed.
Lance’s comments failed to exonerate his mother, but he was attempting to be an asset instead of a hindrance.
“Mom, I’m sorry for getting you into trouble.” He gave her an awkward hug and stared at Agent Templeton with sad eyes. “Sorry. What else do you need? I can see how you might think he was killed because of the threats and stuff, but I have no clue about any of it.”
Tori Templeton’s green-gold eyes softened. Hair the color of pecans rested in waves on her shoulders. Definitely gorgeous and in control of the situation with her friends. A draw for him if he was looking.
“Thank you, Lance.” Agent Templeton rubbed her left wrist. “We’ll have more to go on in a few hours.”
“The medical examiner’s report?” Lance said.
“Yes.” She must have caught Cole staring because she glanced away. “Where’s Jack?”
Agent Templeton was a type A personality, in control. Cole took his cue and headed toward the media room. So he’d added extra duties to his typical responsibilities at the Moore house—taking orders from the FBI and babysitting.
“Mr. Jeffers, don’t leave until we talk,” Special Agent Dublin said.
“Sure.” Cole had committed friendship to the Moore family, or he’d be out the door.