The Third Secret

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Watching him, she waited.

  “We know who broke in here.”

  And that was bad news…why?

  “Who?”

  “Bruce Halloway.”

  The man who’d been guarding her house for most of the night.

  The man who’d been at Lakeside with Steve.

  What the hell was going on?

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ron Fitzgerald spread the word yesterday that we were looking for anyone seen near this building on Saturday night or Sunday morning. Several people reported seeing Bruce. No one thought anything of it, of course, and neither did I, really. Until this morning when I had a meeting with my deputies and announced, among other things, that we’d found a few strands of hair that had been sent out for DNA testing. Bruce came to me after the meeting.”

  Feet apart, hands at his sides, Sheriff stood at military ease as he continued. “Bruce admitted breaking into your office.”

  “Bruce! But why?”

  “Halloway claims he was acting under orders. Someone from the Department of Defense had contacted him—gave him a chance to ‘serve his country,’ as he put it, and earn extra money at the same time. Halloway saw the job as a chance to be a hero…and win his wife back. What he was supposed to do was get Rick’s file. And to search your office for anything that might be connected to a Tom Watkins, Jack Dunner, Maria Valdez or a yacht named The One That Got Away. He was also told to steal any clocks in the room and ransack the place to make it look like a random break-in. Which is why the other things were missing.”

  “Steal my clocks? What on earth for?”

  “Halloway doesn’t know, and neither do I.”

  “Did he tell you who hired him? Give you a name?” Erin asked, hoping they’d finally have something they could verify. That she could get Rick the information he needed.

  “He won’t say.”

  Erin’s heart started to pound. “What do you mean he won’t say? You’re the sheriff. His boss. He comes to you and confesses and then won’t give you a name? How can we be sure the whole thing isn’t a lie to protect himself because he knows his DNA is going to show up?”

  But Erin knew it wasn’t a cover-up. Rick had mentioned the Department of Defense, too. Halloway coming up with the same department was no coincidence.

  She was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life.

  “He claims it’s a top-secret matter and he can’t say anything else. When the DNA results come in, he wants me to keep them quiet—just until whatever’s going to happen happens. He’s agreed to stay in jail for the duration, but won’t say any more. He’s terrified that his mistake, his sloppiness yesterday, is going to put a long-term government operation in danger.”

  “Did he say what the government wanted with Rick’s files? What they’re looking for that they thought I might have?”

  “No. He didn’t seem to know much. Other than the names he gave me.”

  Names that were not in Rick’s formal file. Erin kept separate files locked in a vault under the closet floor of her office when she launched private investigations of her own. She couldn’t risk any incriminating information getting into the wrong hands.

  “Did he say how much longer the operation, whatever it is, was supposed to take?”

  “No. Just that his orders came through a contact in Washington and he was only told what he had to know.”

  “Is this connected to the Cook murder?”

  “That’s one of many questions I asked, but he wasn’t budging. Not on anything. I suspect there’s a tie-in, though. Wagner’s fingerprints were clean, and he had an alibi for the time of Cook’s murder. Seems he had a woman on the side, too. And when she heard he’d been killed, she came forward. They’d been together upstate the morning Cook was murdered. Had breakfast at a diner that confirms Wagner’s presence. We heard from a shift manager at his work, as well. Seems Wagner called in but the shift manager forgot to log the call. The guy in charge this morning didn’t know about it.”

  “So who killed Wagner?”

  Wiping a hand down his face, Sheriff sighed. “I have no idea. I’d like to speak with Rick Thomas again. See if he can shed some light on what Halloway had to say. See if there’s anything he’d like to tell me.”

  “I’m going to advise him not to do that, Sheriff.”

  “I know,” Sheriff Johnson said. “Just talk to him, Erin. See if there’s anything he’ll tell you. I haven’t got a clue what’s going on, but if Rick Thomas has a hope of seeing the light of day once this is over, he needs to come clean.”

  Sick to her stomach, Erin nodded. She saw the sheriff out. One thing was certain: duplicity was not her strong suit.

  With her long chocolate hair, burnished gold skin and round dark eyes, Sophie was a looker. Feminine. Gorgeous. She stood on the deck of her cabin cruiser, exuding sex. The pull-in she’d chosen had a self-pay gas pump, which she would’ve avoided, and little else. Rick jumped on board and with a hungry glance over her shoulder at him, Sophie, dressed in white jeans and a navy linen jacket, stepped down to the drive shaft and sped off.

  He had a job to do, a part to play, and without looking back, Rick went to work. Joining Sophie, he stood behind her, pressing up against her bottom, and took over the wheel. With his free hand, he cupped one of her breasts, squeezing harder than he might have—hard because she liked it that way.

  And when she reached back one beautifully manicured hand, he moved his feet, spreading his legs to give her access.

  Everything in life came at a cost. And if one more roll in the hay with Sophie was what it took to put Tom on the market and, most importantly, get enough ammunition to deal with whoever came slinking out of the sewer, then so be it.

  Temple, Michigan

  Monday, October 25, 2010

  I’d interviewed Rick Thomas. Written my report. If there was a trial, and my testimony was needed, I’d come back to town. For now, my work was done.

  “I’ve decided to leave this afternoon,” I told Erin as we sat with Maggie at the Roselane Inn having a late lunch. In light of the break-in at Erin’s office I figured this wasn’t a good time for the visit we’d planned. The place was a renovated mansion on the main street of Temple with a grand, four-foot-wide wooden staircase, linen tablecloths, chairs upholstered in velvet, china dishes, patterned silverware and authentic antiques tastefully arranged.

  Chewing a bite of walnut chicken salad, Erin nodded and glanced at Maggie. “Probably a good idea, considering, but I’m sorry. I would’ve liked us to have more time together.”

  “Kelly says we can come back next summer,” Maggie said, then lowered her gaze. “If that’s okay, I mean.”

  “Of course it’s okay.” Erin smiled at Maggie, and I was glad I’d made the trip to Temple. And that I’d brought Maggie with me. We felt like family sitting there.

  “I was going to mention a return trip,” I said. “Caylee and Maggie exchanged email addresses and IM screen names. I told them we’d try to get back to town before Caylee leaves for Yale next year. If she goes, that is.”

  Ron Fitzgerald had phoned Erin a few minutes before, telling her that, because of everything that had happened, he’d called Caylee at lunch and asked her to come home. Caylee had agreed, though she hadn’t backed down on her desire to go to Yale.

  “Anyway, I just thought, you’ve got so much going on, it’d be best if we left.”

  “They arrested the man who broke into my office,” Erin said, looking at Maggie and then back at me, as though asking if it was okay to speak in front of her. I nodded. I was trying to include Maggie in as much of my life, my career, as I could. As was appropriate. I trusted Erin to make that call.

  Maggie had helped Erin clean up the mess after the break-in. She was bound to have questions and would be thinking about the incident whether we discussed it or not.

  “Who was it?” Maggie got right to the point.

  “Deputy Halloway.”

  “Isn’t
that the man who was on guard duty at your house last night?” I asked, frowning.

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why? How do they know it was him?” Just like Maggie, I had questions. A lot of them. And wasn’t sure, all of a sudden, that I wanted her in on this conversation. The girl might start to think all cops were dirty.

  “He confessed,” Erin said, and explained the man had said he was working for someone else, but wouldn’t say who. I had a feeling there was more to the story—and that Erin was using the discretion I’d trusted her to use where Maggie was concerned.

  But I had to know… “Did it have anything to do with Rick Thomas?”

  “Yes.” There was more there, too. I could tell. But Thomas’s case was an ongoing investigation. Not something we could chat about.

  “Does this mean you’re out of danger?” Maggie’s grilled cheese sandwich was half-eaten.

  “I think so,” Erin told us both. “Presumably they got what they wanted from me. It’s Rick they’re after.”

  “What did he say when you told him about Halloway?” I asked. The man had been on my mind all day. I wasn’t altogether sure I trusted him to tell me the truth—but I’d trust him with my life.

  Erin’s sudden interest in what was going on outside the window made my stomach drop. Especially when she said, “I haven’t told him yet. He’s fishing today.”

  Uh-huh. I was pretty sure my friend had just deliberately lied to me.

  “We had a crooked deputy in Chandler, too.” Maggie’s sweet voice got my attention. I couldn’t detect any emotion; she could’ve been talking about the amount of rainfall.

  “Kelly told me a little bit about him,” Erin said. “He was running a drug ring, right?”

  “Yeah.” Maggie looked over at me.

  And, feeling guilty, I blurted, “I told her about your mom.”

  Maggie shrugged. “I figured you did,” she said. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not like people aren’t going to wonder why I’m living with you. And everyone at home knows.”

  I loved the kid.

  “Just to be clear,” I said, “I don’t tell anyone personal things about you. I don’t break your confidences.”

  “I know.” She looked at Erin and the grin on her face melted my heart. “Kelly worries a lot,” she said, as though imparting news of great importance. “I think it’s ’cause she knows too much about how people’s minds work.”

  Erin grinned. “Well, I, for one, feel lucky to have all that knowledge in my life.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” Maggie said. And I just about choked. Being cared about felt so damned good.

  And scary, too. I didn’t want to let either of them down.

  “Hey, I’m sitting right here. Talking about people in front of them makes them uncomfortable. Didn’t you girls get that memo?”

  Maggie chuckled, and I concentrated on my broccoli soup for a second. And then said, “Not all deputies are bad, you know.”

  “I know,” the girl replied.

  “Still it’s kind of shocking to trust one and then find out he’s a creep.” Erin knew I was struggling to get Maggie to talk about the things that had happened to her.

  “I guess,” Maggie said, pushing aside the rest of her lunch. “I wasn’t shocked, though. Chuck Sewell was a creep from the beginning.”

  Erin, sitting across the table from Maggie, leaned forward. “A creep how?”

  I held my breath.

  “He…tried to kiss me.”

  Turning cold, I didn’t move.

  “Did he succeed?” Erin’s soft voice was a godsend.

  “No. My mom and I never gave him a chance. She slept with him instead so he’d leave me alone.”

  I wanted to take the girl in my arms and never let go. “Did your mom tell you that?” I asked instead, hoping I sounded calm enough to reassure Maggie.

  “Yeah, but she didn’t have to. I heard him giving her the choice. And then she started getting home late. And coming home drunk. I didn’t blame her. I’d have gotten drunk, too, if I had to let that man touch me.”

  “She should have reported him.” Erin wasn’t hiding her anger.

  “Right.” Maggie snorted. “It’d be her word against his. Who do you think they would’ve believed?”

  Probably not Lori Winston. But I said, “She should have tried, Maggie. Even if she wasn’t believed at first. They’d have to at least investigate. And she could’ve had help trying to catch him. To prove the allegations.”

  “He knew she used drugs,” Maggie said. “He threatened to have her put in jail.”

  “She ended up there, anyway.” I couldn’t let this go. Couldn’t let her think… “No matter how evil someone is, no matter how powerful he seems, there’s always a way to get him,” I said, my voice shaking. “You have to believe that, Mags.”

  The girl shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. And looked out the window. We were done.

  For now.

  But I wasn’t giving up.

  32

  Rick spent the better part of Monday night at various establishments—some legal, some not—nursing glasses of whiskey he purchased but didn’t drink, and watching his back. He stayed mostly along the Miami coastline. Word would travel from there just fine. Renewing old acquaintances in Tom’s business was an interesting experience. Those guys could kill someone and eat a hamburger at the same time.

  And they’d defend their loyalties to the grave.

  He talked to a lot of people. Some he knew. Some he didn’t. And hadn’t learned a damned thing he didn’t already know.

  He finally crashed for a couple of hours in a rent-by-the-hour fleabag motel that had the two amenities he needed—double locks on steel doors and bars on the windows. The bed and running water were a bonus.

  And after an early-morning breakfast meeting with Hernandez Segura on Tuesday, he used the scrambled phone to call Sarge. They’d scheduled a rendezvous for that evening.

  “I’m not going to make tonight,” he informed his onetime superior at the outset.

  “Where are you?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Dammit, Rick,” the man swore. “You put Tom on the street.”

  “Yes. It was the only way.” He stood in a deserted cove along the ocean’s edge, a mile down from where he’d had Segura’s man let him out of the boat. He wanted his enemies to come after Tom, but he didn’t intend to get caught.

  Sarge’s deep sigh seemed like a sign of age. Of being worn out. They’d all been at it too long. “I’m afraid you might be right,” the older man said, his deep voice low. Almost beaten. Nothing like the forceful voice booming orders that sent twenty-two-year-olds scrambling. “I finally had a call back from one of my contacts,” Sarge continued. “Intelligence says there’s a mole in the Department of Defense. They don’t know who, but they’ve connected him to Hernandez Segura.”

  It was the information he’d counted on Sarge to find. This was how it had always worked with their crew. Their instincts were honed. To the job and to one another. Sarge’s team was the best of the best, which was why they’d been so highly paid. So highly sought after. Why they’d been trusted with the toughest jobs.

  For a second there, hearing that validation from Sarge, Rick felt like part of a team again, that sense of belonging to something bigger than himself. And as a familiar surge of adrenaline surged through him, he wondered, just for a second, if he’d made a mistake in getting out.

  “How recent is the Segura connection?” he asked.

  “Deep enough that it’s been going on for years.”

  “It’s someone who had the power to let him walk after our six-month sting.” They’d moved a lot of illegal arms out of circulation. Kept them out of the hands of terrorists. But in the end, in spite of the evidence Rick had risked his life to collect, the man in charge had walked away without punishment. He’d been tempted to quit when Sarge told him the final results of the operation.

>   “It’s the only thing that makes sense. The Segura mission was sabotaged from the beginning.”

  Sabotaged from inside. By someone with access to personnel records, someone who had the wherewithal to ensure that Tom Watkins’s DNA was in CODIS, the national DNA database set up by the FBI to record the DNA of all convicted American criminals.

  “Segura’s setting me up.”

  “You’ve been in contact with him?”

  “With him and dozens of others Tom worked for. He’s the only one still willing to give me work.”

  “You’re working for him?”

  “I’ve got a job to do tomorrow night. More after that if I want them. Or so he says.”

  “Be careful, Rick. We don’t know how much he knows. Until we learn who the mole is, we have no idea what they were doing that Brady found out about. No idea what they want from you. But it’s obviously worth killing for.”

  “Maybe Brady found out there was a mole. Maybe got the man’s identity.”

  To some, that would be enough to kill for. “If the guy’s using government intel to get Segura hooked up, I’m sure he was being very well compensated.”

  “Or it could be that he was using Segura to get the government hooked up,” Rick said slowly.

  “How so?”

  “The wars we’re fighting today are very different from the previous ones. With new technologies, greater communication, with chemical warfare a fact, weaponry has to be different. The rules of engagement are largely a thing of the past.”

  “And Segura could be feeding the government information about the weapons being developed under the radar. The weapons we could be up against.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So whatever Brady found out could have limited our ability to fight back if it ever got into the wrong hands. It could have endangered the lives of American soldiers. But then, why not just call us in? This kind of thing, getting intel from shady sources, is what we do.” Did.

  “I don’t know. More likely you were on the right track. The mole’s probably selling American intelligence to Segura, and Brady’s exposure would have seen him charged with treason.”