by DiAnn Mills
Questions hammered at his brain. Why had Nathan contacted his attorney about bodyguards for his family when he planned to leave them? He swung around and retraced his steps to Lance’s bedroom. “Agents, have you considered that Nathan’s announcement of a divorce could have been a means of protecting his family?”
“Leave the investigation to the professionals,” Max Dublin said. “Stick to mowing yards.”
TORI GLANCED OUT the rear window of the Moores’ kitchen. Soon the sun would be rising, glistening. Drying the dew. She wished she could stay. Sally’s frail nerves needed a boost, including strength and confidence in her ability to withstand every moment ahead. But Tori had a twofold problem on her hands, and first was how Nathan had died. Although a massive heart attack looked probable, a legitimate threat would prove someone wanted him dead.
When would they receive the medical examiner’s and cardiologist’s reports?
Tori hoped Nathan had died of a heart attack. Overthinking a case could lead to disaster. Ignoring clues meant she wasn’t doing her job.
The second problem rested with an unruly teen. Would Lance later decide to blame his mother for his father’s death? The teen had grown more rebellious about six months ago, and Nathan’s and Sally’s efforts seemed to make the matter worse—for some reason he despised his dad.
“It’s six thirty,” Sally said. “I’ll grind some beans for coffee. It’ll give me something to do.”
“I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here,” Tori said. “The fingerprint and DNA teams can do their jobs without me or Max.”
Her friend’s shoulders slumped, and the dark circles beneath her eyes could hide a coffin. “Why the extra work? I’m telling you he died of a heart attack. Are you thinking someone was in his office? Upset him to the point of inducing the problem?”
Tori’s eyes stung like sand had invaded them. “Just protocol for the investigation. He was threatened, and I want to know by whom. Mr. Jeffers may have a valid argument about Nathan making his absurd announcement to protect you.”
“I simply don’t understand any of it. The man last night was not the husband and father we loved.”
“We should have the initial medical reports soon.”
Max coughed. Sounded like his lungs would burst. “I’d like coffee, ma’am, if it’s not an imposition.”
Sally first handed him a glass of water. She moved across the kitchen to the coffee bar area. Her grace was embedded in her beauty and a draw to all those in her presence. For certain Tori wouldn’t brew coffee for anyone who questioned her like he’d done.
Max captured Tori’s attention. “We have questions for Mr. Jeffers.”
“Send Jack down to me.” Sally sprinkled coffee beans into the grinder. “The conversation will disturb him, and I could use the company.”
Again Max and Tori climbed the stairs to the second floor. Jack and Cole were playing a video game. Lance was still in his room, probably nursing his ego. “Jack, your mom would like you downstairs while we talk to Mr. Jeffers.”
He stopped the game. “He’s a friend, Miss Tori. Not an enemy.”
She tilted her head. “Of course he’s your friend. It’s our job to talk to everyone here.”
“Even me?”
Max moved in front of her. “Do you have information for us?”
“No. You’re a real jerk, know that?” Jack disappeared to the lower level of the home. Cole put the video controller aside and stood to face the agents. Arms at his side. Concentrated eye contact and no visible hostility.
“Mr. Jeffers, how long have you known the Moore family?” Max peered at Cole over his nose.
“About seven years for Nathan and about two and a half for the rest of the family.”
“During this time, you became a friend to Mrs. Moore.”
“Correction. Nathan and then his wife and their sons.”
“Seems strange a businessman and a family of this caliber would call a yardman a friend.”
Cole’s sky-blue gaze penetrated Max’s face. “Guess so. I didn’t know friendship required a pedigree.”
Max huffed. “Were you here often?”
“Professionally, as often as necessary. Socially when Nathan and Sally invited me.”
“Did Mrs. Moore ever invite you without her husband?”
“No. What are you insinuating?” Cole’s voice growled low.
“You’d have a lot to gain with Nathan out of the way. A beautiful woman, huge house, all that Moore money could buy.”
Cole stared at him before responding. “A well-respected man has died. That’s a loss, not a gain.”
“Depends. What did you and the victim have in common?”
Cole again used silence, as though he was thinking through each word. “We respected and trusted each other. Enjoyed sports. Exercised in the early hours. I have experience with oil and gas, so he could talk about the business without concern of it leaking to the media.”
“Were you aware of the threats on his life?”
“Yes. He confided in me yesterday morning, and I suggested he hire more bodyguards until the matter resolved itself. He was worried about his family.”
“Why would he listen to you when you plant flowers for a living?”
“Because I made sense. Because I’m intelligent. Because I’m a friend. Are you finished? Because I have a job to get to.”
“Who did you suggest for protection?”
“He already had a service, but I recommended two options: off-duty law enforcement and to contact his attorney for ideas.”
“Not yourself?”
“You do have issues, Agent Dublin.”
Max hesitated. Tori wasn’t used to seeing him back down from a confrontation, but Cole seemed to hold his own. “We need a way to contact you.”
Cole flipped a small notepad and pen from his shirt pocket and jotted something. “Mobile number is best.” He tore off the slip of paper and handed it to Max.
“Address?”
“Sure.” A moment later he returned the paper.
“That’s the high end of Cinco Ranch.” Max jutted his chin. “A little pricey for minimum wage.”
“I manage. Where do you live?”
“I’m asking the questions. Do I need to remind you that you’re speaking to a federal agent?”
Cole dragged his tongue over his lips. “I’d like to be with you when you give Sally the report.”
“Why?” Max’s brows narrowed. “What’s your stake?”
“My stake?”
“Yeah. What’s in it for you?”
Tori couldn’t believe what Max was saying. Why had he turned so antagonistic? Or did she already have a clue?
Cole’s face reddened. “Look up the meaning of friendship.”
“You have all the answers. Why’s that?”
“When your investigation is over, you’ll learn I’m not the bad guy.”
“Where were you last night?” Max continued.
“With a friend from seven thirty to after midnight.”
“Name?”
“Manny Lopez.”
Max poised his pen. “One of your yard guys? Does he speak English?”
The animosity between the two men could have been sliced with a butter knife, and she couldn’t blame Cole Jeffers. Tori made a decision. Crossing Max got her in trouble every time, but she couldn’t let this slide. She faced Cole. “Would you mind joining Jack and Sally until we’re finished?”
Cole strode to the staircase. “I’ll suggest Jack and I take a walk. The air in here has a stench to it.”
Tori waited until the sound of his footsteps faded. Fury at Max’s obstinacy seized her. If Cole Jeffers had any facts or evidence to help them with this case, they’d just kissed it good-bye. “Max, since when did treating people like second-class citizens help solve a crime?”
“You’re an idiot if you don’t see what’s going on here. A lonely, rich woman has an affair with the yardman. They’re in this together, mar
k my word.”
“And where’s your proof? You’re not the agent I partnered up with six years ago. That man used his head and not his mouth. He taught me how to work homicide and care about people. Treat them with respect. I know the spot on your lung has you scared. I know you can’t give up the cigarettes. I know your daughter isn’t speaking to you. I know your wife moved out, and it’s tearing you apart. But suck it up ’cause you’re doing a lousy job as an agent. Cole Jeffers has an alibi for last night, or did you miss it?” She whirled around and headed downstairs. She’d lost it and didn’t care. No excuse for unprofessionalism.
Max didn’t say a word, and that was more disconcerting than a face-off. She heard his steps behind her. Now was not the time to mention that his work at the FBI might be the only thing of value he had left.
Tori’s and Max’s cell phones alerted them to an incoming update: the medical reports. The answer they needed. She read the findings while Max did the same.
Not good. Not good at all.
The cardiologist had spent hours testing Nathan’s pacemaker. The device had not malfunctioned but been remotely accessed, causing the heart attack.
Murder. She despised the word.
A life snuffed out of existence. Her ribs ached as though she’d had the wind knocked out of her.
TORI TURNED TO MAX, descending the steps behind her. “I have to tell Sally how Nathan died.”
“Trust me on this one. She already knows.”
Tori swallowed a retort and concentrated on the new information. According to the pacemaker’s monitoring report, the breach occurred at approximately 10:32.
By then Sally had returned to the pool, and the boys’ trunks and towels were in the laundry area. The security cameras showed her staring and doing nothing at the time of Nathan’s death. Tori’s blood pressure dropped ten points, then rose again at the thought of Sally hiring a hacker.
The investigation had officially become a violent crime. Remote access to a wireless pacemaker ensured Nathan’s cardiologist could make minor adjustments without surgery, but the wrong person gaining access spelled death.
She made her way to the kitchen, where Sally stared out the window facing the patio.
“Sal—” Tori poured gentleness into her words—“are Jack and Cole taking a walk?”
She nodded. “Why?”
“We have the medical report.”
She lifted a tearstained face. “Did I hurt Nathan when I administered chest compressions?”
“Not to our knowledge.” Tori put an arm around Sally’s waist. “Nathan’s pacemaker had a malfunction caused by a hacker.”
Sally’s face blanched. “He was murdered?”
“I’m afraid so, and it happened while you were out at the pool.”
She leaned her head on Tori’s shoulder. “People loved him. He was generous and kind, a man of integrity.” She stiffened. “Find out who took Nathan from us, Tori.”
Shortly after 7 a.m., Cole found Sally seated on the back patio overlooking the pool and stone waterfall. He’d learned about the hack into Nathan’s pacemaker. If Sally hadn’t contacted the cardiologist, the cause of death might never have been labeled murder.
The rhythmic sound of the water would normally have calmed him, but not in the face of tragic circumstances. This was the first chance he’d had to speak with her privately since he’d arrived. The agents were in Nathan’s office—doing their investigative work. “Will you be all right until your parents arrive?” He had a landscaping project for a computer company that started yesterday, and he’d signed a contract to oversee the work personally on a daily basis. Any breach of the deal meant his men wouldn’t get paid.
“I need to stand strong.” She took a sip of coffee, then set the mug down. “Thanks for everything. Kit and Dad will be here by ten. Jacob, our attorney, will be here shortly. Let him deal with Agent Dublin’s rudeness.”
“Good.” The question that propelled fury through his body begged for an answer. “Why would Nathan ask for a divorce? Or is it none of my business?”
She stared at him with watery eyes. “I’ve wondered the same thing repeatedly, tried to remember a time when he could have inappropriately interpreted something I said or did. I keep drawing a blank. He’d been acting strangely since the bombing. I thought his irritability was due to stress. But to make such a loathsome announcement in front of his sons?”
“Had he been drinking?”
“Not that I could tell, and the medical examiner didn’t mention alcohol in his blood. Besides, he couldn’t drink with his medications.”
“What brought on the argument?”
“Dessert.” She picked up her cup of coffee from a small table. “During dinner, he explained the hiring of two more bodyguards for our protection. He wanted us to be careful, said he feared for his family after the bombing and another matter he wasn’t ready to discuss. Then he asked Lance if he’d brought up his algebra grade. You know Lance. They quarreled. I tried to calm them. We finished dinner. Jack knew we were having dessert, Nathan’s favorite, and offered to help me in the kitchen. He hates it when Lance and his dad are at odds. Anyway, we cut slices of pineapple upside-down cake and carried them to the dining room.” She blew the steam from her coffee as if it would make the turmoil evaporate. “Lance and Nathan were shouting, and I asked them to stop. That’s when Nathan turned to me and asked for a divorce.” She hesitated. “Definitely got quiet. Jack and I served dessert, and I took my seat. I asked Nathan if we could discuss the matter privately. He said no. I told him of my love and requested counseling. He said no again. Lance blew . . . Ugly things were said. My temper took over, and I rather vehemently declared we needed to talk in private.”
Cole hated the loss to this family, the shatter of emotions that blindsided them all. “I’m really sorry. He never said a word to me. I’m leaning toward the theory that his decision was to protect you and the boys.”
She glanced away as a squirrel ventured closer to the patio and captured her attention. “That would be the man I love, not the out-of-control stranger who left us at the dining table and spent the rest of the evening in his office.”
“You didn’t talk to him again?”
“I tried, but he locked me out of his office. The door was open, though, when I found him. I want to believe his explosion was all about keeping us safe. Everything happened so fast—the whirlwind trip to the hospital. The police. The boys’ horrible fight.” Her lips quivered.
“The FBI and HPD will get this resolved.”
“But Nathan was murdered, and Tori’s partner suspects me. . . . She might too.”
“You have an alibi, and that agent’s a hothead.” The psychological workup of suspects churned every bit of evidence to find the truth. Media would announce the murder to the world. The boys would face other kids’ questions.
“Jack wants to stay home from school today,” she said. “Doesn’t want to leave me. I get it. His way of working through pain is to support me. Lance hasn’t left his room, so I assume he doesn’t plan to attend either.”
Lance had a tendency to consider himself first. That trait could change if he chose to declare war on things that stood between him and his relationships with others.
Sally picked up her cell phone and touched her fingertips to the screen. She burst into tears. “Would you call the school and explain why the boys are home today?”
He took the phone. “This is Cole Jeffers, a close friend of Nathan and Sally Moore. Their sons, Lance and Jack, are enrolled at your school.” He explained the tragedy, omitting the term murder. “Yes, ma’am. Lance and Jack might return tomorrow, but if anything changes, Mrs. Moore will contact you.” He gave Sally a grim smile—the best he could do. “It’s handled. I’ve got to talk to the agents and then get to work.”
She covered her mouth, then nodded. “Thanks for everything. I’ll contact you later.”
“Don’t unless you communicate the why first to Agent Templeton.”
&n
bsp; She stared at him blankly, and he left her alone.
Inside the house, he made his way to Nathan’s office. “Agents Templeton and Dublin, I’m leaving now.”
Dublin stiffened—apparently annoyed at the interruption—while she laser focused on him. “Jeffers, I’m not finished with you yet.”
“You have my contact info.” Cole walked to the foyer and opened the front door, welcoming the fresh air.
“I’m thinking you and Mrs. Moore arranged for Mr. Moore’s pacemaker to be hacked.”
“Look, if you’d take the time to study Nathan’s personality, you’d see that something else was going on last night. Your job, Agent Dublin, is to discern the truth, dig deep for motive, and make a professional case against whoever committed this atrocity.”
“Pretty fancy words for a yardman.”
“Whatever.” Cole headed toward his truck. Time to get to the job site and not let Dublin crawl under his skin and stay there.
The spring sunshine warmed his bones: low seventies and perfect weather for planting. Four bodyguards took up positions around the house. The sight gave him momentary relief that Sally and the boys would be safe . . . if the killer wasn’t finished.
He unlocked his truck and took a long look at the Moore home. Three acres of precision for every tree, plant, and color according to sun exposure and Houston temps. In the rear stood a monument to a man who didn’t enjoy the water: an Olympic-size pool that Cole had spent hours designing to Nathan’s specs. The natural-rock formations and waterfall, enhancing the rear of the huge plantation-style home, had attracted cameras from national magazines. Had Nathan understood wealth never arrived hand in hand with peace unless the person accepted the faith aspect? None of the Moores were on that track. Neither were they interested, except maybe Jack.
Nathan lived the life most men never grasped: a lovely and caring wife, two healthy and intelligent sons, this incredible home, a multimillion-dollar business . . . but at least one enemy wanted him dead. Who’d killed him? Hacking into a pacemaker took skill. Either the killer already possessed the ability, or he’d hired the expertise. Nathan had taken precautions to ensure his family was guarded, but the killer didn’t need to access his home security system, just a keystroke to his heart.