by LENA DIAZ,
He fisted his hands against his thighs to keep from reaching for her. She looked so vulnerable, so shaken, so ridiculously contrite that he wanted to haul her onto his lap and tell her everything was going to be okay.
Even though he knew it wasn’t.
“I’ll never be able to fix this,” she said. “I wish there was something I could do. But other than giving you all my notes and taking down my website, I don’t know of anything else that I can—”
“You can help us.”
She blinked. “Help you? What do you mean?”
He forced a nonchalant look, even managed a smile as he took the plunge, misleading her yet again. But the groundwork had been laid. He’d be insane not to take advantage of it. They were so close to getting what they really needed. He had to go for it.
“I appreciate that you’re finally realizing that I’m not the bad guy you thought I was. And this—” he patted the satchel “—will be much appreciated by the, ah, task force. But there’s something else you might be able to do that would help even more. Provide us your expertise on websites.”
She straightened in her chair. “My expertise? You want me to help with your investigation?”
He nodded. “This task force is consuming resources left and right. And, as you said, I’m more behind the scenes now rather than on the frontline.” Yeah, right. Like he’d ever agree to that. “One of the things I’m trying to do is break into some suspects’ websites, for a variety of reasons that I can explain later. But the team is spread thin and I don’t have anyone besides me who can really assist on the computer side at the moment. You’re a computer programmer, and you’ve done a lot of web work, so, well, it would be a huge favor if you could show me what I’m doing wrong. Might give me a break in the case.”
She slowly nodded. “Sure. Of course. I can try. You think this will help you catch the bad guys at the top of the food chain?”
“Yes.” It definitely would. And it might catch Hayley, too. Sometimes, like right now, he really hated his job.
“And catch Bethany’s real killer?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.” Another lie.
She smiled, finally looking more like the Hayley he remembered. Was that a good thing? Or a bad thing?
“Happy to help,” she said. “Especially now that I know your Stetson’s color is wrong.”
He frowned. “My Stetson?”
She waved a hand in the air. “Never mind. Do you want me to come to your workplace tomorrow morning?” She flushed. “I mean, this morning? Like maybe around nine?”
“Nine would be perfect.”
Her smile widened. “Thanks, Dalton. Helping in some way, and knowing that I’m not hurting anyone this time, will really help my conscience.”
It was killing his, using her guilt as a weapon against her. Handing her the rope to hang herself. “Like I said, I appreciate your assistance.”
After helping her out of the truck and waiting until she was safely inside the cabin, he sped down the road. After the first curve, he jerked the truck to the shoulder. He sat there several minutes, thinking about the crazy twists and turns of the past week, and the unbelievable conversation he’d just had with Hayley. When he felt he could speak without yelling, he took out his cell phone and pressed the speaker button. Then laid it on the seat beside the satchel.
It took three rings before Mason’s groggy voice came through the speaker. “This had better be important to wake me at this hour.”
“Task force, Mason? Affidavits? Photos? What did you do?”
“She bought it?” Mason’s voice immediately changed. He sounded downright cheerful.
“Yes. She bought it. She’s coming to the office this morning to help me with the online part of the investigation.”
“Excellent. Then the plan worked.”
“No, the plan didn’t work,” Dalton said. “The plan was to get a few of our law enforcement allies to provide me an alibi for Bethany’s murder. Then they would threaten her with prosecution if she didn’t stop interfering in our work. The plan wasn’t to make up lies about an official task force that doesn’t even exist. The Justice Seekers aren’t working with anyone on this case, not officially. What happens if she goes to the FBI or Gatlinburg PD to ask about the task force? Won’t they be surprised since there isn’t one?”
“I may have gotten creative but I don’t see it being a problem. After her recent experience in jail, I don’t see her walking into the police station to double-check our story. Why are you so upset?”
“You changed the plan without warning me. She threw me for a loop when she mentioned the task force. It’s a good thing I was able to keep a straight face while I let her talk, so I could figure out how to play along when I didn’t even know what she’d been told. You can’t expect me to play a role when I don’t know you’ve changed the script.”
When Mason didn’t say anything, Dalton continued, “She thinks I’m going to help her investigate the murder of her friend in exchange for consulting with us about websites. If she thinks I’m on a task force working with the local PD, how long before you think she asks me to show her the medical examiner’s report on Miss Miller’s death? How do you expect me to navigate all the questions that will raise?”
A reluctant-sounding Mason finally answered. “I can see how that might be...awkward. Challenging.”
“It would be a disaster.”
“Look.” Irritation tinged Mason’s tone again, though he sounded much more conciliatory than he had when he’d first answered the phone. “We got what we wanted, what we needed—her backing off and voluntarily agreeing to help us. We need to find The Ghost. If she’s the criminal I believe her to be, she could be our key, as you agreed earlier. If not, my apologies. But I don’t think I’ll have to say I’m sorry any time soon.”
“What if nothing goes as planned?” Dalton asked. “What if she realizes that she’s being tricked?”
“Maybe she’ll have to disappear, just like her friend.”
He fisted his hand on the steering wheel. “That’s your solution? Make her disappear?”
“If necessary, yes.”
* * *
HAYLEY DROPPED HER headphones onto the floor and drew her knees up on the couch. She didn’t know what had possessed her to throw that listening device into the satchel before giving it to Dalton. A last remaining niggling doubt perhaps? Her subconscious telling her something was off about the late-night visit by a police officer and a special agent? Either way, she hadn’t expected anything when she’d put on her headphones.
Boy, had she been wrong.
She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. Dalton had worked his way past her defenses and convinced her he was a good guy. And even though her mind was telling her that it was a good thing she’d learned the truth, her breaking heart wished she’d never found out.
And how stupid was that?
If she hadn’t found out, she wouldn’t know that Dalton and Mason had plotted to murder Bethany. And that they were willing to do the same to her if necessary.
There was also that confusing discussion with Mason talking as if she was a criminal. Was that because of her breaking into Dalton’s home to find proof about what he’d done? Or something more sinister? He’d mentioned a ghost, or had he said The Ghost? Was he fixated on her because he was trying to find someone who called themselves The Ghost, and she happened to use a ghost icon in her work? What was that all about? And why had he zeroed in on her as someone to even suspect?
She had to think, really think. And she only had until nine in the morning to come up with a plan.
She swiped at her tears and put her foolish hopes and dreams about Dalton away. He was her enemy, once again. And she’d do well to remember it.
The cabin was too cold for her to focus, so she rebelliously clicked the heater on. She’d deal
with the outrageous energy bill later. Right now, she needed to get warm and get her brain firing again. She made another steaming mug of hot chocolate, stoked the fire and added another precious log to get the flames roaring. Then she sat on the couch considering every option she could think of.
What it seemed to boil down to was that the police couldn’t be trusted any more than she could trust the Justice Seekers. After all, an actual policeman and FBI agent had gone along with Mason’s plan and provided her with false information to get her to take down her website. She briefly considered putting it back up again, but that would invite questions from Mason and Dalton and she wasn’t ready to go down that road and admit that she’d been listening in on their conversation.
Who could she trust? That was the real question. And there was only one person she could think of. Herself. She had to go on the offensive again and get some real information, hard facts, to figure out what was going on. So where was the information? After her break-in attempt at Dalton’s home, she couldn’t imagine that he would risk keeping anything there. If it had been there before, he would have moved it. But where?
The Seekers’ headquarters.
It was the only place that made sense. She needed to get inside that building and get whatever they were hiding. The police, other than Sampson this time, would have to pay attention to her if she brought them hard facts. And if they didn’t, she’d go to the press. A little national attention would put Gatlinburg PD under a microscope. They’d have to look into her claims, once and for all.
So how could she get inside? Her brief breaking-and-entering career was a dismal failure.
She straightened in her chair. Of course. It was so obvious. She already had an invitation. All she had to do was meet Dalton at the Seekers’ cabin, and he’d open the door for her. He’d said he needed her help with computers. She could use that as her ruse to get inside.
But how could she get out with the data that she needed? She doubted their computer security would allow her to save anything to a flash drive without sending a security alert to Mason and the others. And she couldn’t simply walk out the front door carrying a box of folders if she found anything incriminating in some physical files. She had to find another way to save and store that information.
This part of the problem had an equally easy answer. She hadn’t been performing surveillance for months without learning a few tricks.
She jumped up and got her gun, the one that Dalton had returned to her after she’d pointed it at him. She shoved a loaded magazine into it and set it on the end table beside her. Then she headed into her bedroom.
After grabbing a button-up blouse, a needle and thread, and a very special, very expensive button, she sat on the couch and drew her feet up. Then she bent over the shirt to sew on the new button that looked almost exactly like the others. Except that this button had the ability to bring down the Justice Seekers.
Too bad it didn’t have the power to heal the damage to her breaking heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Hayley peered through her Blazer’s windshield from the back of the parking lot, past the other vehicles parked closer to the massive cabin where Dalton worked. Trees surrounded the place, framing the building against the backdrop of the beautiful Smoky Mountains. It all seemed so natural, normal, without a hint of the illegal things no doubt going on inside. The only thing here that seemed nefarious was her, and the little camera posing as a button on her blouse.
She glanced down, assuring herself the ridiculously expensive camera was still there. It wasn’t like those clumsy old-fashioned wired ones that criminals in TV shows used. This one would transmit recordings via Bluetooth to the receiver in her Blazer.
The sound of a familiar powerful engine had her straightening. A jacked-up, blue Chevy pickup pulled into the lot. Dalton had arrived. Right on time. He parked a few rows in front of her in his aptly named Silverado. Perfect for a man who spent his life in boots and a cowboy hat. Then again, he’d moved here from Montana where he’d owned a ranch, so she assumed his choice of headwear and footwear came honestly. He really was a cowboy.
Too bad the color of his Stetson had turned out to be accurate after all.
He hopped out of the truck effortlessly, not bothering to use the running board to step down. To her surprise, he wasn’t wearing his usual business suit. Instead, he was dressed casually in blue jeans visible beneath the hem of his dark trench coat.
He headed straight for her Blazer, obviously having seen her when he’d driven into the lot.
She fidgeted with her camera button, then took a deep, bracing breath before pushing open her door.
He held out his hand to help her. She wanted to ignore his offer, but that would seem suspicious after they’d left on such good terms last night. When she placed her hand in his, she felt the warmth and gentleness of that touch zing straight to her belly. Why was she cursed to crave this man, knowing he could never be hers? Knowing he and his boss had discussed making her go “missing”? She’d replayed that conversation over and over in her mind as she’d tossed and turned last night. All it had done was confuse her. He’d seemed to be defending her, and yet in the end, hadn’t he agreed to whatever Mason had proposed?
“Hayley? You look flushed. Is everything okay?”
She jerked her hand back and tried to cover her telling action by smoothing down her jacket. “Must have had the heater going too high in my car. I’m fine.”
A flash of disappointment crossed his achingly handsome face, as if he wished she hadn’t pulled back her hand. “I have to admit I’m surprised you showed up. I figured after a good night’s sleep, you’d go back to suspecting me again.”
If he only knew.
She tightened her hands on the strap of her purse hanging off her shoulder. “Of course not. I’m glad to be here, to have a chance to actually make a difference.”
His searching gaze had her wondering if he saw through her act. “Good. I don’t want you to feel nervous or uncomfortable.”
She was so uncomfortable that part of her wanted to run screaming into the woods. But the pistol snugged into the back of her jeans beneath her jacket gave her the confidence to stay instead of getting the heck out of Dodge. “You could have asked me to come here when we were at the police station yesterday.”
“I needed to get the okay from the team before moving forward. We don’t grant access to this place to just anyone. Even clients have to be researched before being allowed here. Many of them never see the inside.”
She glanced toward the structure. It really was huge, and gorgeous. It appeared to be only one-story but she imagined there was probably a lower level, maybe even a basement below that on a grid of stilts anchoring it to the side of the mountain, like most cabins around here. Land like this with a view was too expensive not to build as big as possible in each lot, which often meant building high instead of wide. This one, however, was definitely wide.
The building stretched from one end of the parking lot to the other and then some. A-frame gables extended out on both ends, shading an elevated front porch that would have looked inviting if there were any rocking chairs. But it was completely devoid of furniture, as if no one ever bothered to sit outside. Seemed a waste for such a beautiful place.
“I’m surprised there’s no sign out front. I guess that goes along with your word of mouth way of getting clients, like Mason mentioned at the police station.”
He cocked his head. “Just like with your website business. You get your clients through word of mouth instead of blatant advertising. Right?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Right. Exactly.”
He led her toward the building.
“How many people are on your team?”
His jaw tightened, for just a moment. If she hadn’t been watching him, she’d have missed it. “Normally, twelve. Plus Mason makes thirteen. We’re a man down r
ight now. But we’ll staff up again. Eventually.”
“A man down?”
He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. “One of our Seekers, Seth Knox, died several months ago. Not long after your friend was killed.”
His words, laced with obvious grief, had her placing her hand on his arm in solidarity without even thinking about it. “I’m sorry for your loss. Losing a friend is tough. Was it unexpected?”
His gaze dropped to her hand on his arm before he looked her in the eyes. “He was murdered. Stabbed.”
She drew a sharp breath. “Oh my gosh. Was he mugged or something?”
He watched her for a long moment, then shook his head. “How did we get on such a morbid topic? Let’s head inside and I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour before introducing you to the team.”
He led her up the stairs. There was an electronic keypad by the door, which looked as if it could easily keep out the occasional curious bear, or even a group of determined criminals if they wanted to break in. But rather than press any buttons, he pressed his hand beneath it. There must have been a biometric reader that validated his palm print, because a buzz sounded and the door popped open. He stepped back and waved her inside. “Welcome to the Justice Seekers’ home base.”
She’d barely gotten past the threshold when she stopped in surprise. The inside was absolutely nothing like the outside, which was a shame. There was no hint of the log cabin exterior in here. The beautiful golden logs had been covered with drywall and painted a pale gray. The room they were in was probably forty feet wide and just as deep, with black metal desks in two rows of six, separated by a network of glass walls framed in black metal. The floor was carpeted, a low-pile industrial-looking gray that matched the walls. Everything looked sleek, modern, industrial—the exact opposite of a typical mountain cabin.