by DiAnn Mills
Cole pushed aside old habits. The FBI and HPD were investigating the cause of death, and they didn’t need his help.
They’d learn the truth about him soon enough, a fact Nathan had promised to keep secret from his family until Cole was able to put the past where it belonged and step forward in the confidence he once had in himself and his skills.
FROM A WINDOW inside the Moore home, Tori watched Cole drive away in a Ford F-450 Platinum pickup. A little uptown for a yardman, along with a few other expensive habits—the Montblanc pen used to write his contact info for Max, Lucchese boots, 7 For All Mankind jeans, and an Apple Watch wrapped around his wrist. But no warning flares emerged from his tone or his body language. Simply odd she hadn’t seen him before, although Sally had indicated her desire for Tori to meet Nathan’s friend. Tori wasn’t into sports, and that was apparently what he and Nathan had in common.
Sally valued the man’s friendship, and for her sake, Tori wanted to clear their names. Instinct told her Cole Jeffers had something else going on behind his ultrasmooth confidence.
Sally, please let your friendship with Cole be nothing more than that.
Checking the time, she entered the kitchen to wrap things up with her friend and Max. Both were there with Jack.
“Mr. Jeffers left for his job,” Tori said.
“He has several landscaping projects going on.” Sally sank onto a barstool, her shoulders slumped. “I hope I didn’t interfere with his business.”
“Anyone can mow a lawn. I’m sure he’s more expensive than others.” Max coughed from the pit of his stomach.
“He doesn’t mow yards and pull weeds,” Sally said low. “Cole is a professional.”
“I don’t trust a yardman who cozies up to a rich man who’s now dead. Does he call often?”
“No.” She arched her back. If Max didn’t ease up, she might bring out her claws. “Are you saying Cole is a suspect?”
“Everyone is guilty in my book until they’re proven innocent.”
Sally stepped into Max’s personal space, her eyes flaring. “Excuse me, but my son is present. Watch your language and your implications. The FBI must have lowered their standards to let you carry a badge.”
Tori didn’t take the remark personally. She studied his face, drawn with lines far beyond his fifty-one years. Was she right about his abusive attitude? She’d asked him repeatedly the last couple of months about the change, but he refused to offer an explanation. Today she’d witnessed how far south he’d gone. Dare she go to the ASAC? Tattle like an elementary school kid?
“I think we’re done here for now.” He gave Sally a curt nod. “Mrs. Moore, I guarantee we’ll find out who murdered your husband.” He handed her his card. “Do not open the door to your husband’s office. You already know how to contact Agent Templeton. If you receive any unusual phone calls or feel uneasy, please don’t hesitate to call.” He studied Jack. “If you or your brother have any new information, I’d appreciate hearing any suspicions.”
The doorbell rang.
“Excuse me.” Sally’s voice rose. “That is most likely my attorney.” She disappeared.
Max coughed. Sounded like it came from his toes this time. Why hadn’t he given up the cigarettes? Surely he knew they were killing him.
“Young man, do you have anything to hide?”
“Max.” Tori touched his sleeve. “Enough. He’s a boy, and this is inappropriate.”
Sally appeared with a man dressed in a three-piece suit and introduced him to Tori and Max as her and Nathan’s attorney. Tori shook the man’s hand, but Max merely nodded.
“Jacob, you arrived at just the right time. Agent Dublin requested Jack call him if he had any information about his father’s death.”
Jacob offered no emotion. “Agent Dublin, you know the law. Mrs. Moore’s sons are underage. As attorney for the Moore family, I speak on their behalf during this time of sorrow and grief. You’ll not speak to any underage member of this family unless I am present. I also encourage Mrs. Moore to exercise her right to counsel.”
Max eyed him. “I’ll do my job how I see fit.” He turned to Sally. “Mrs. Moore, you’re a person of interest. Don’t even crawl into your BMW and drive to the River Oaks Shopping Center unless I’m notified. In the meantime, I recommend using discretion in addressing the media.”
“I have no intentions of talking to a reporter.” Sally set her jaw. “For a man who’s supposed to serve the community, you have the manners of a pig.”
“Others have said the same, but most of them are behind bars.” He huffed as though swallowing a cough and left the house.
Tori gave Sally and Jack a hug. “We’ll be in touch. Be safe. I’m so sorry about Max. I’ve never known him to act like this.” But she had, and it must stop.
“Just so you know,” Attorney Farr said, “I will report his inappropriate actions to the FBI this morning.”
What could Tori say? “I understand.”
Sally sighed. “I will also make a call. Is this the behavior of most agents?”
“Not at all.” Tori left and joined Max at the curb, so angry she wanted to rip his head off. “I’m assuming we’re heading to Moore Oil & Gas?”
He leaned against the driver’s side of his car. “Not yet. I’ll meet you at the office in about two hours.”
“Where are you going?”
His features hardened. “My business.”
“Whoa. You’re not solo on this case. I’m going with you.”
He coughed and clutched his chest. “This is personal. Back off.”
Fury laced her words. “What’s wrong, Max?” She pointed at the Moore home. “You treated every person in there like trash. They are the victims, not criminals.”
“Get a life, Tori. This case is cut-and-dried.” He swung away from her as though she’d slapped him. “I don’t need to tell you everything that’s going on in my life.” He opened the door and slid into his car.
Reality check. Max was either on his way to see a lawyer or the doctor. “Do you want me to ride along?”
He slammed the door, but the window was down.
“Doctor or lawyer, Max? This is Tori, your partner.” She scrutinized every line on his face. “It’s the spot on your lung, isn’t it? You have a diagnosis.”
“Do what you can from the office. Text me Jeffers’s initial background. Nothing deep unless I see reason to explore it. Rubbed me the wrong way. Sleeping with Sally Moore.”
She opened her mouth to refute his callous words, but why? Whatever stalked Max had made him mean and possibly afraid.
Once in her car, she touched the button on the radio for classical music. Low enough to be soothing and not overpower her thinking. With the morning hour, she’d get caught in inbound traffic. Not a bad thing when she needed to process what was behind Max’s attitude and the mystery surrounding Nathan’s death.
Conflict between Nathan’s company and environmentalists was nothing new, necessarily, but the momentum between Moore Oil & Gas and activists had escalated in the past few weeks. Nathan was exonerated in allegations of illegal dumping of backflow water four days before a bomb exploded at a drilling site. Four days later, he lay dead. The facts repeated in her mind. A link to radical activists was worth investigating. Good theory, and one she’d look into at the office—along with a ton of other things.
Could there have been problems in the workplace? A wronged or jealous employee? How could she ID the killer? Did that person wear a designer suit or sweat on an oil rig?
She wanted to believe in Sally’s innocence . . . but Cole Jeffers?
Her cell phone beeped with a notice. Stuck in stop-and-go traffic, she snatched it. A background on Cole rolled in. He owned Texas Garden and Landscaping, the largest and most prestigious commercial and residential landscape company in the city. Burst onto the scene about two and a half years ago and continued to rise. Her embarrassment joined forces with stupidity to mix a bitter stew. His designs won national awards. Defi
nitely not a yardman. No need to read more.
She wanted to crawl into a hole and let him mow over her.
Now Nathan’s and Cole’s friendship made more sense. They were both successful businessmen. The question bombarding her mind was how much did he know about the threats made on Nathan’s life? Had the two men quarreled?
Max would look at Cole’s profession and conclude he was even more of a suspect. Maybe so.
COLE ARRIVED at his office after checking in with the crew on the new landscaping project. The team had completed the preliminaries to raise the elevation at the rear of the complex to complement a new architectural design. A multilevel plan he’d spent six months designing and perfecting. By owning and overseeing his own nursery, he’d developed quality plants that withstood the hot summers while providing a beautiful outdoor setting for his customers. For the past year, he’d maintained the property, provided annual color, and conducted tree services. His team of over a hundred employees and contractors brought skill and expertise to the project. Cole had promised them more money, and this job allowed the salary increases to happen. Yep, he was proud of what he’d accomplished in such a short time. But Cole missed the excitement, the flow of adrenaline.
Landscaping took care of the creative side of his nature, but not the deep satisfaction that came from his former role as a US Marshal.
Nathan’s death surfaced memories of what it meant to wear a badge. Could he willingly put his life on the line to keep others safe? The thought quickly dissipated with the memories of why he’d taken a leave of absence from the agency.
He feared the demons who labeled him a coward.
Thoughts of Nathan wouldn’t let him go. He was one of the smartest men Cole had ever met. His business savvy had made him a millionaire several times over. From the first day the two men collided in the gym when both reached for the same size weight, they’d hit it off. One morning, Nathan actually listened to why Cole followed Jesus. Nathan didn’t ridicule him, just felt he had no reason to accept a sovereign Lord when he already had all he needed. That day Cole vowed to convince him otherwise. Too late now.
Deplorable to see a man’s life end so tragically.
He scooted his chair back and stood to survey the property his office overlooked. A stone path led to blooming azaleas and wound around to a tiered fountain that sprayed water thirty feet into the air. At night, the pool became a light show for the public.
Back to work. No more diversions until tasks were checked off his list.
Turning his attention to his computer, he responded to his mother’s latest blog on gardening. He laughed at her analogy about how pulling weeds made her a better person. She looked at each one like a weakness in her character. She’d taught him how to prune a rosebush, when to fertilize, and why a balance of soil acidity and drainage gave thriving plants a supercharged boost.
He moved on through his e-mails, deleting and junking far more than he read.
An e-mail from Manny hit his in-box.
Cole, have you thought about reinstatement since we talked last? It’ll soon be three years, and then it might be too late. I get your leave of absence, but we could use you. Heck with that. I miss you. Been transporting prisoners, and I’m ready to get back to running down bad guys. The old days were the best ones. Let me know you’re thinking about it.
Cole tapped his fingers over the keyboard. To reply or not to reply. That was the question. . . . He blew out his indecision and smacked Delete. Not going there even for Manny.
But what about Nathan? Could Cole offer his experience to the investigation? Weren’t knowledge and experience already in place with HPD and the FBI?
Or was the nudge to reinstate coming from God? Tough call when Cole feared and yet longed to return to his former career. What if he froze in the middle of danger? Did his reluctance stem from his inability to forgive the shooter? The man’s sneer stayed with him constantly.
Truth shattered his argument to stay away from the US Marshals. He closed his eyes and ended the bitterness eating his heart and soul.
He stared at his cell phone. Snatched it and pressed in Manny’s number.
“Hey, Cole, thinking about joining forces with us again?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. Manny had succeeded in taking the edge off his raw nerves. “You know what’s stopping me.”
“The guy who shot you won’t escape the law forever.”
“So I tell human resources I’ve had a change of heart?”
“Your words, not mine. If I were you, I’d tell them the job’s in your blood, and you regret ever leaving. You’ve never stopped being a US Marshal.”
Cole moved to the window. “Right, and I have a scar to prove it.” Flashbacks too, but he’d not admit it.
“Still bitter, but you can channel it.”
Cole digested his friend’s words. “Truth is, a good friend was murdered: Nathan Moore. A hacker tampered with his pacemaker. The FBI and HPD are already on it, but I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Is this really Cole Jeffers, a member of the Special Operations Group who’s an expert sniper and better at high-risk entries than any SWAT team I’ve ever seen? All the while working witness protection and prisoner transport? The Cole Jeffers who made Chief Deputy Marshal?”
“I turned down the latter, remember? If I was able to step into a task force with the FBI, could I work the case with a clear head?”
“You worked a task force with them in the past.” Manny said. “I remember the case. You were assigned to protect a judge who’d ruled against a chemical company. That company was found guilty of exposing employees to toxic substances that resulted in an explosion. You found evidence that sent the owners of the chemical company to prison.”
“Good memory. I worked with the current FBI ASAC, Ralph Hughes, back then. Good man. We keep in touch.”
“Then come on back and do what you do best. Making big dollars in business is nothing to sneeze at, but this is where you belong.”
“I might be a suspect.”
Manny moaned. “What?”
“The victim told his wife he wanted a divorce, and one of her sons asked me to come over early this morning.”
“You were there in the thick of the investigation?”
“Yes.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
“He was. One of the FBI agents implicated me and his wife.”
“Any validity in his allegations?”
Cole snorted his irritation. “How long have you known me?”
“Okay. I get it. Christian guys don’t normally mess around. Not supposed to, anyway. Needed to ask. You have an alibi and a girlfriend?”
“You must not have had enough caffeine today. You’re my alibi, man. Girlfriend, no.”
“Right. One out of two isn’t bad. Are you coming in today?”
The immediacy settled on him. Either walk away from the US Marshals and abandon a grieving family. Or risk everything to sink time and effort into investigating Nathan’s death. Because both were connected. Both shoved him into tenacious mode. But was the plan for him?
“I’ll call human resources and see what they have to say.”
SOON AFTER TORI ARRIVED at the FBI office, she reread the medical examiner’s and cardiologist’s reports for indications of a struggle before Nathan’s death. Clear and straightforward. She reviewed HPD’s findings, and they were consistent with Sally’s statement. The blood on the floor of Nathan’s office matched his type. The security firm and the bodyguards had solid records. Every case was different and every case had similarities. But she’d never worked a case where a killer chose to eliminate a victim by hacking into his pacemaker. What an impersonal way to end a life. Ruthless—like every premeditated murder.
Tori scheduled an appointment with Nathan’s cardiologist, a woman with an impeccable reputation as one of the finest surgeons in the country, for early afternoon to learn more about the remote acces
s of the device. The FBI’s tech team was working on finding the IP address of the hacker, but cyberpunks knew their way through the endless codes uniquely hidden in cyberspace.
She phoned attorney Jacob Farr using the number Sally had given and identified herself.
“Agent Templeton,” Farr said, “I can tell you the following without legal ramifications. Nathan did not give me an organization or name of whom he suspected behind the bombing or personal threats. He informed me about adding bodyguards and requested an appointment for this afternoon to discuss matters of concern.”
“And to file for divorce?”
“Further specifics will require a court order.”
“You’re aware his pacemaker was hacked.”
“Yes. Mrs. Moore relayed the unfortunate cause of death earlier this morning.”
“Do you have any information to help the FBI?”
“No, ma’am. Not without a court order.”
“Thank you for your time.” She thought about the call while jotting down a request for a court order. What Jacob Farr didn’t say plunged into the territory of a deeper investigation. He also used the plural form of threat. Who had the most to gain from Nathan’s death? A person or persons who thrived on—
Power.
Money.
Revenge.
Love.
What was it, Nathan? What drove a person to kill you?
A power motive centered on work colleagues or those in competition with Moore Oil & Gas? Tori made a note to interview not only his front office and blue-collar employees but also his competitors. She typed a request to the FIG, Field Intelligence Group, for a list of known offenders in Houston and South Texas who thrived on environmental issues. Max had no doubt read the backgrounds when the bomb squad consulted him about the explosion.
Money drove many people to commit the most horrendous of crimes. Had Nathan deceived or cheated someone? Based on his request for added protection, he had reasons to be fearful.