Pursuit of Justice

by DiAnn Mills

  “Oh, nothing. Just wondering.”

  “Nothing with you means you’re working. You’ve got a lead?”

  “Possibly. Is his office at the church where the memorial service was held?”

  “On the left-hand side. Entrance is off the parking lot in back. Should I call to warn him?”

  “Nope. I’m harmless. I have errands to run later on this morning, and I’ll add his name to the list.”

  “Can I ask what else you’re doing?”

  “Wouldn’t do you any good.”

  “I’m learning.” They rode on in silence, and he couldn’t quite put his feelings into words. Comfortable . . . more like peace. Strange, but true. The source was God, but the woman beside him had to be a special gift.

  “Once I leave here, I’m going to visit them,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “The Warick kids.”

  “Do you need company?”

  She took another swallow of coffee. “No thanks. I have to make this trek alone.”

  Carr lifted a brow in mock annoyance. “You’re a stubborn woman, Special Agent Bella Jordan.” He pulled in his reins. “Take a look at that.” He pointed to the chalky shades of yellow, orange, and purple slipping over the horizon.

  A smile spread over her face. “It’s amazing. I regret missing this before.”

  Rifle fire split the air like a crack of thunder. Bella’s horse startled, and Carr grabbed his and her reins. She slumped over the saddle. Blood spurted from her left shoulder and trickled down her back.

  Carr jumped from his horse and hurried to pull her from the saddle. Another shot pierced the air. A sharp sting rippled up and down his arm, but he refused to allow the pain to stop him from getting her to safety. His gaze swept to the butte, sensing the shooter had a position where he could see them perfectly.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered.

  “It’s him.” She sucked in a breath. “He promised to get even.”

  Carr had no idea to whom Bella referred. Later he’d ask—much later. He carried her toward a mesquite tree. A third shot downed the mare Bella had been riding. His gelding galloped toward the ranch.

  He was confident the rifle fire had already alerted Jasper, but he yanked his radio from his belt and pressed the Talk button. “Jasper, Bella and I’ve been shot. We need help and Bella needs an ambulance.”

  “Got it. I’ll call the sheriff’s office.”

  A fourth shot zinged over Carr’s head, and he dropped the radio. Hopefully Roano would respond to the call. Carr had more than one enemy wearing a badge there. But if Roano knew Bella was injured, he’d hurry.

  Another bullet soared a few inches to the right of him, and he pulled her firearm from her ankle holster, then lowered himself over her body.

  “He doesn’t give up,” she whispered through a ragged breath.

  “Who, Bella?”

  “Dad.”

  What tormented her from the past that she’d be convinced her own father would want her dead? He figured their relationship had to be fragile, but not this. Bella needed off this case, and he didn’t care how angry it made her. Once she was at the hospital, he’d make a call to the FBI in Houston.

  Several seconds passed while he waited for another crack of rifle fire. Nothing. He studied the butte to see if the shooter was closing in. Nothing around them moved. Not a sound but the morning songbirds. Bella moaned, and he took a quick look at her wound, all the while keeping an eye out for the shooter. His attention riveted on the amount of blood she’d lost. The bullet had gone straight through her shoulder, much too close to her heart for Carr’s liking. Carr’s medical training consisted of a first aid course, but he didn’t need a medical degree to see if she didn’t receive help soon, she’d bleed out. He pulled his uninjured arm from his shirtsleeve, biting his lip while freeing the other arm. For the first time he caught a glimpse of his wounded arm that felt like a swarm of bees had declared war. Blood trickled to his wrist.

  “What are you doing?” she managed. Her eyes had been glued shut since he pulled her off the saddle.

  He thought she’d passed out. Strong lady. “Trying to bandage you.”

  “Hey, cowboy.” Her eyelids fluttered open.

  He pressed his shirt against her wound. “Hold your praise and rest. I’m sure Jasper will be here any minute.”

  “Be careful. Four men are already dead.”

  “The shooter’s had plenty of time to finish us off. I think this is a warning, like your tires and the rattler.” Carr’s thoughts had changed about the situation, but he didn’t verbalize them. The shooter needed time to get away, not more time to line up his sights.

  She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “You’d make a good agent.”

  “I’m in training.”

  “Can you get out of here, ’cause—?”

  “Hush. Jasper will be here in no time, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

  Her body relaxed, and his mind flew back to the night Michelle overdosed. The memories of watching her die swept through him. She’d slipped into unconsciousness, then quit breathing. Oh, how his life had changed since he’d come to know Jesus. Through the help of understanding Christians, he’d learned to deal with regrets and purposed to live for the future.

  Carr drew Bella’s body close to him, as though if he held her tight enough, she would hold on to life. Fear for her gripped his heart, squeezing him like a child desperately clings to a favorite toy. This time I have Jesus.

  “Keep her alive,” he whispered. “Lord, I’m trusting You in this. I refuse to react like I did before with Michelle. Help me to rest in the understanding that Bella is in Your hands.”

  In the distance, Carr heard the sound of a truck bumping over the pasture. His gaze shot out over the rolling field. “Jasper’s on his way, and we’ll get you taken care of.” Panic took over as he realized Jasper could be in the shooter’s sights.

  His prayer became a repeat of his Savior’s name, while his blood-soaked shirt stayed affixed over the gaping hole.

  Chapter 26

  Brandt fought the fury threatening to spin him out of control as he watched Sullivan’s hired hand lift Rachel onto the truck bed. Sullivan climbed in after her. Brandt seldom experienced raw sentiment, but this incident had brought on emotion he normally chose to conceal. Strange how he could love a woman for all this time and despise who she’d become with the same passion. She had guts to come after him, knowing his capabilities. And he admired her strength. It made her all the more mysterious and desirable, and all the more his. Soon she’d understand that he always had her best interests at heart. A woman like Rachel had to be tempered into submission, and Brandt knew how to do it.

  He had not authorized this shooting, and the call to be here this morning was supposedly for his benefit.

  Bella must have recognized the inevitable, or she wouldn’t have taken on the case. That was it. She wanted him to come after her. Brandt felt the certainty rise in him and calm his raging thoughts.

  When Rachel was fifteen, when he decided she must be his, the girl had been confused. How ludicrous of Warick to think he could play the role of a father and order her to come home. Brandt should have taken over the communications with Bella’s aunt. Warick’s stupidity was why Brandt stole Mair away from him. Warick didn’t deserve a good woman, and Mair had clever means of keeping a man happy. Brandt cared for her in his own way, but that didn’t stop his wandering eyes or his heart for Rachel.

  He made his way back to the horse tethered to an oak. His gaze took in the foot of the butte containing his future. Soon all will be mine. The gold and the investments would keep him and Rachel forever.

  But first he had to make sure Rachel survived the bullet. Then he would make certain Aros understood who gave the orders. And make him pay.

  Chapter 27

  Bella woke to the siren clearing a path of traffic and the wind whistling around the ambulance’s doors. She fought to open her eyes, wanting to see Carr be
side her but not wanting him to comprehend she craved the sight of him. The fiery pain in her shoulder served as a reminder of the shooter’s accuracy. The man behind the trigger had to be her father, who had kept that promise spoken fourteen years ago. This time he’d nearly killed her.

  A callused hand wrapped around hers, and she understood from the firm grip that it was Carr’s. She forced her eyes to open, only to see his eyes were closed. She didn’t need an explanation. The man was praying for her. Neither did she have any desire to stop him. She found comfort in the knowledge of another human sharing a request with a divine being on her behalf, even if her own faith had no substance.

  Her attention trailed from the IV attached to the top of her hand up to the pole holding the liquid keeping her alive. A flash of pain seared her body, and she longed for blessed darkness. Closing her eyes, she urged her battered body to give in to a state of no feeling.

  “Save her, Lord,” Carr whispered.

  At the sound of his voice, she opened her eyes. How good of him. Aunt Debbie would approve. His tender gaze met hers, and he squeezed her hand lightly.

  “Hold on there, lady. We’re on our way to Abilene.”

  She saw the bandage around his arm and realized he’d been shot too. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but the words refused to form. His smile warmed her, and amid the pain wracking her body, she sensed an unseen hand held her safely.

  * * *

  Carr checked his watch and resumed his pacing of the hospital waiting room. Could it be only ten o’clock? Treating his own wound had not taken long, but Bella remained in surgery, and he had no idea of her condition. How long would the doctors take to repair her shoulder? Prayer kept him from falling apart—that and the companionship of Pastor Kent, who had arrived at the hospital a few minutes after the ambulance.

  He assumed the hospital, Runnels County Sheriff’s Department, or some internal communications department had notified the FBI in Houston about Bella’s injury. Abilene had an FBI office, and he expected one of their representatives to be at the hospital—at least to be asking Carr questions. Where was Vic Anderson? Carr hadn’t seen him all week. But no one showed up at the hospital but Roano, and the man acted as though Carr had pulled the trigger.

  Carr clenched and unclenched his fists. He had no idea how the bureau worked, but he needed to do his part. During this ordeal, Bella needed support from those who had assigned her to the investigation.

  With the aid of the hospital receptionist, he located the FBI’s number in Houston and made the call. Once he finished, Carr wondered how the bureau viewed the situation. One of the original prime suspects in the murder case waited at Abilene Regional Medical Center while their agent fought for her life in surgery. He hadn’t thought to tell them he’d been wounded too, but that was selfish, much like the old Carr who found ways to make himself look good. Bella’s aunt deserved to be notified. Perhaps the FBI had a process for notifying family members about wounded agents.

  While Kent phoned his wife, Carr took a walk outside. Not until Bella was taken to recovery would he learn anything about her condition.

  A familiar dust-covered truck pulled into the hospital parking lot. Jasper and Lydia stepped out. Both waved as though he’d been waiting for them to arrive. Neither of them wasted time in making their way to Carr. He fixed his eyes on Lydia first. The closer she came, the deeper the lines around her dark eyes seemed. When she had heard from Jasper about the shooting, she called for an ambulance in Ballinger and directed them on to Abilene. Lydia had a powerful way of taking control of situations that couldn’t be explained in her five feet of spirit and determination. Or her tremendous capacity for love.

  “She’s in surgery.” Carr read her and Jasper’s questioning glances, both filled with concern. In a short while, they’d all grown attached to Bella. “That’s all I know. Pastor Kent’s inside.”

  Earlier this morning, Bella indicated she wanted to see Kent today. He was on her list. She had something on her mind that had to do with Kent’s counseling. She also wanted to see the Warick kids.

  “What about Bella’s family?” Lydia said.

  “I assume the FBI will contact her aunt.”

  Lydia raised a brow. “What do you know about her family here?”

  “Nothing more than what she told you. She planned this morning to see some teens who are related to her. Obviously that isn’t happening.” Suspicion inched through him. “Let’s get some coffee and take it up to the surgical waiting room. I have a few questions for both of you.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “The kind two locals who have spent all of their lives here could answer.”

  Lydia frowned at Jasper. “This means you too, old man.”

  Jasper fell into step with them, taking on his characteristic silent response to Lydia. In the five years Carr had known them, he’d never heard Jasper raise his voice to her.

  In the surgical waiting room, they prayed with Kent for Bella’s healing and for the doctor’s wisdom. Carr watched the doorway for the doctor to emerge while carefully forming his questions for Lydia and Jasper.

  “You have that look on your face,” Lydia said. “Out with it. If Jasper and I don’t have answers, we’ll tell you.”

  “You recognized Bella the day she set foot on the ranch, and you chose to keep the information to yourself. I think her confession about her identity was more for my benefit than yours.”

  Jasper nodded and Lydia pressed her lips together. “She should be answering your questions.”

  “But she can’t, which is why I need you two. Someone is trying really hard to scare her off this case—or kill her—and I have good reason to believe one of the suspects is her father.”

  “Maybe.” Jasper took a sip of his coffee. “I heard he’s kept his nose clean for a long time.”

  “Stanton Warick?”

  “Right. I never had any dealings with him,” Jasper said. “But I heard the stories.”

  “What stories? Bella told me he was obsessed with the Spider Rock treasure, which is why her aunt finished rearing her.”

  “Obsessed is mild.” Lydia brushed the leg of her jeans as if it held dirt.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  Lydia lifted the lid from her coffee cup, and the steam curled around her fingers. “It’s gossip, and I vowed a long time ago not to repeat such nonsense. I suggest you ask Bella when she’s able to talk.”

  “But what if her father is out there trying to find another way to get to her?”

  “Why not let the FBI handle this? That’s their job.” Jasper’s words were firm, but the familiar gentleness took the edge off Carr’s frustration. These two were aware of Bella’s family, and he desperately needed to understand what had happened to her.

  “From what you know, is her father capable of murder?”

  “Any man can kill if given the right circumstances,” Lydia said.

  Carr studied his dear friends. Somehow, someway, he was going to find out what happened fourteen years ago. And as soon as Bella was stable, he’d start at Ballinger’s library and move on to courthouse records.

  The gnawing question persisted: Why had the FBI assigned Bella to a case where she had a conflict of interests?

  Unless the FBI didn’t know. Could that be it? Had her paternal background been hidden in light of Bella’s adoption? Maybe he needed to talk to the infamous Aunt Debbie.

  Carr buried his face in his hands. So much blood had been shed, and he still had no idea why.

  How many days ago had his thoughts been filled with the anticipation of changing young lives who statistically were headed for criminal records? Now he wanted to strap on a pair of six-shooters and call the killer out into the middle of the street. Only the awareness of who he was in Christ stopped him.

  Chapter 28

  Bella awoke to the sound of voices calling her name. Other attempts of men and women who urged her to waken had been successfully averted. She didn’
t want to be bothered, only to sleep. Then a streak of white fire sent a gasp of pain to her lips.

  “Easy, Bella. Open your eyes.”

  The voice was familiar. Frank? Confusion swept over her. She’d been shot at the High Butte Ranch and then brought here. Carr had been shot too. Had he survived? She forced her eyes to open.

  “That’s my girl.” Frank’s soft, mellow voice brought back memories.

  “I’m not your girl.”

  Another laugh sounded behind Frank. “Carr? Are . . . you okay?” He stepped to Frank’s right side, wearing a bandage around his left arm. “Good,” she managed. “I was remembering.”

  “Remembering is good,” Frank said. “Talking is for later, when you have your strength back.”

  “Listen to him.” Carr pointed to Frank and added a smile. “Seriously. You’ve come a long way, and you have a long way to go.”

  Bella moaned, but not from the pain searing her body. “My assignment.”

  “I’ve got it handled.” Frank’s sandy-colored hair and pale blue eyes attracted many a woman. At one time, she’d been one of them. But it was the sun-streaked hair and deep blue eyes of Carr Sullivan that had captured her heart. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

  Except solving the murders and bringing Brandt and her father to justice. “I’ll be back to work tomorrow.”

  “Don’t think so,” Frank said. “I’ve got guards posted outside your door 24-7, and a doctor who says it’ll take a few days for you to gain enough strength to return to Houston.”

  Bella attempted to sit up, but agony made it impossible. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. “I’m not going back to Houston. My work’s here. Swartzer gave me the assignment.”

  “She still has her spunk,” Carr said. “Maybe the doctor can take her back into surgery. He must have forgotten to remove something.”

  The words should have reassured Bella, even amused her, but she hurt too badly. She’d been defeated by Brandt and her father, and her career challenged. If not for the two men before her, she’d have shed a bucket of tears. “How long have I been out?”