Silent Sabotage

by Susan Sleeman

  He’d hurt her. Of course, he had. He should have told her about his money right up front. He’d kept a big part of himself from her when she’d been forthcoming about her past.

  “I’ve got to go.” She marched toward the house.

  He trailed behind, keeping his head on a swivel, watching for danger.

  He’d really botched that. Meant an end to anything between them in more ways than one. Exactly what he’d first claimed he’d wanted, but now the thought simply twisted his gut into a hard knot.

  FIFTEEN

  Emily checked on Birdie, who’d thankfully slept through another incident. Hoping to avoid Archer, Emily took the back stairs down to the office. She was hyped up and she couldn’t sit still so she paced the room. Back and forth. Thoughts firing through her mind as quickly as her feet moved across the floor.

  “Trust fund, right,” she mumbled.

  She was such a fool. After Darcie’s earlier comment, Emily thought he might be in financial trouble, too, and then it turns out he’s swimming in money? Money he could have already offered. Not that she’d ever consider taking it, but he’d kept it to himself as if he needed to hide it.

  A secret. Like the men in her mother’s life.

  “Ha!” Just the opposite of her mother’s financial issues, but he hadn’t shared this important part of his life. She’d given him plenty of opportunities to mention his past, to mention the money, but he sidestepped everything.

  What else might he be hiding?

  She stopped at the window and gazed over the lawn. Her eyes taking in the property she loved so dearly. The property that even her best efforts hadn’t been able to save.

  The lack of money was a problem. A big one. But it wasn’t the only thing weighing heavy on her mind. Admitting to herself that she couldn’t save the place. Couldn’t control the B and B or Birdie’s illness. Couldn’t gain control of her life any longer. Or even manage her feelings for Archer. That was an even bigger issue.

  She’d tried so hard. Planned. Scheduled. Organized. Found the best doctors for Birdie. She’d done her best. Tried her hardest. But her best wasn’t good enough.

  Why, Lord? Why?

  A shadow darkened the doorway and Archer stood waiting. “Can I come in?”

  She nodded and forced herself not to resume pacing to keep him from seeing how unsettled she was.

  He moved close enough for her to catch a hint of the soap he favored, and he appraised her with perceptive eyes digging deep. “You doing okay?”

  She wanted to toss out a smart-aleck response so he would leave and she wouldn’t be tempted to snake her arms around his neck and finish the kiss she’d run from. But he didn’t deserve a flip answer when he was genuinely interested in her well-being.

  She took a breath. Blew it out. “I’m doing better and I’ll go on fighting for Birdie. I want so badly to succeed for her. I think trying to save her home is the least I can do for all she’s given me. I’ve tried so hard, but...”

  “But problems have hit you at every turn.” He reached for her hand.

  She wasn’t at all opposed to his touch, but for precisely that reason she stepped back.

  Her actions earned her a raise of his eyebrow as his hand fell to his side. “You can let go of that iron control, you know. Maybe let someone else help you for once.”

  “Easy to say, but hard to do when it’s ingrained behavior,” she said honestly.

  “Tell me about it.” His words were more of a command than anything.

  She thought about not responding, but she didn’t like the way he’d kept his past a secret and she wouldn’t do the same thing to him.

  “I told you about my parents,” she started. “About my mom and her many men. Controlling my environment was the only way to coexist with the latest guy. Dictating my own moves and other people to the extent that I could. My circumstances.”

  “And you never relaxed even when you came to live with Birdie?”

  “A bit, I guess, but when bad things happen, my go-to move is still to take over.”

  “You mean like right now?” he asked softly.

  “Exactly. If I could just get a handle on these things, I—”

  “Could what? Fix it? That’s all you’ve been trying to do since I met you, and it’s not working so well. Maybe it’s time to change tactics.”

  She clenched her hands and released. “I just need to try harder. Tighten the reins more.”

  “Or not,” he said, sounding so sure of himself. “You can’t control others and what they do. I know. I lived it firsthand with my family.” Pain lit in his eyes for a moment before he cleared it. He rested on the corner of the desk and seemed to be at war with how or even if he should continue.

  The air was tinged with tension. She was tempted to jump in, ask about his family, but after hiding his money from her, he willingly had to open up about his past, too. Otherwise, how could she trust him?

  He looked down at his hands resting on his knees. “My dad wanted me to work for his stock brokerage firm. I didn’t want to spend my life in finance, but I caved to his demands and got the MBA he wanted. After a few months of working for him, I knew I couldn’t do it. I had to follow my own path so I quit the firm.”

  His foot started swinging and his long fingers clasped his leg like a vise. “We argued that day and for the next two years. He couldn’t fathom telling his friends and associates that his son was a deputy. It was more about how people perceived him than if I was happy.”

  He shook his head in slow, sorrowful arcs. “When Dad realized that I was never coming back, he and my mom turned their backs on me. I reach out to them off and on, but I get the same cold shoulder and we still don’t talk.” He finally looked up and met her gaze head-on. “It took some time, but I finally figured out that I’d done nothing wrong. It was all on my parents and I couldn’t change their minds. It was in God’s hands alone.”

  She’d been so wrapped up in her own mess of a life, and he’d seemed like he was on an even keel, that she never even considered that he might be going through something like this.

  “I’m so sorry, Archer.” She rested a hand on his arm. “Guess we both know what it’s like to have parents let us down.”

  “Learn from my situation, Emily,” he implored. “Trust God and know that whatever happens it will all be okay.” He pressed a hand over hers.

  She felt the warmth of his hands, the urgency in his words, but... “It sounds so simple.”

  “Simple? No. We’re always going to have trouble and want to fight it ourselves. We’re wired that way, but if we let God take control and trust Him, He promises peace in the midst of the pain.”

  “I know the verse you’re talking about, and trust me—” she shook her head “—I want peace in my life. How I want it.”

  “But?” he asked, his gaze riveted on her.

  Her heart ached and she wanted to surrender her concerns to God. But the potential loss of Birdie, of the B and B, was too painful for her to fathom leaving it up to Him alone. “But I’m not as strong as you are. I can’t let go. Not now.”

  Maybe never.

  * * *

  Archer was a hypocrite. He knew that now.

  He didn’t purposefully deceive Emily, but he’d deceived himself. He said he trusted God, but had he? Had he really?

  Even after a positive counseling experience that he thought had helped him put his family’s rejection behind him, he still didn’t trust God. Not when it came to women. To a relationship.

  He’d ignored every woman God had put in his life since then. Plain and simple, he wasn’t actually over his parents’ betrayal, and he’d decided he wasn’t about to put himself in a similar position with a woman. Not once had he asked God what He wanted for his life. He’d prayed for Emily’s safety, but ask
ing if God wanted her in his life? Not so much.

  He glanced at her, felt the pull that was between them and wanted to think that now that she knew about his money it didn’t matter. But as he’d expected once he told her, he couldn’t be sure.

  Do You want me to be with Emily?

  A knock sounded on the front door, cutting through the room.

  He came swiftly to his feet, his hand drifting to his weapon, all his thoughts focused on the door. “You expecting anyone?”

  She shook her head.

  “Stay here and I’ll see who it is.” He strode to the entry and glanced out the side window, surprised by his visitor.

  “It’s Jake,” he told Emily. “You can relax.”

  But with the look in Jake’s eyes, the last thing Archer would do was relax. In fact, every defensive bone in Archer’s body sat up and paid attention as he stepped outside and closed the door.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked in way of greeting.

  “We finally got through the data on Oregon bow-hunting licenses,” Jake said, trying to sound at ease but failing miserably.

  The sick feeling in Archer’s gut intensified. “And?”

  “Fannon’s an avid bow hunter and so is Lance Taylor.”

  “Can’t say as I like to hear that, but I’m not surprised about Fannon.” Archer looked around the property—for what, he didn’t know, but his unease made him jumpy.

  “Sounds like you’re liking him for this?”

  Archer told Jake about his visit to Fannon. “If he’s good for starting the fire, then why not the arrow?”

  “I can ask around his neighborhood to see if anyone can verify he was home during the fire, but getting the DVR information will take a warrant. As much as you suspect him we still don’t have probable cause for a warrant.”

  “Then we need to find something,” Archer insisted.

  Jake quirked a brow. “How do you propose we do that?”

  “Carothers will try to get Fallon to turn over his shoes so they can compare them with the print, but now that we know he’s a bow hunter, let’s start by asking for his alibi for the day he or someone else shot the arrow at Emily.”

  “I can pay him a visit,” Jake offered.

  “No,” Archer said quickly. “I want to see his face and gauge his sincerity.”

  Jake eyed him for long moments and Archer felt like squirming in his boots. His pal had a way of seeing deep inside and he used it to make good decisions for the team. Archer usually appreciated it, but right now, he could do without it.

  “Not a good idea, bud,” he finally said. “You’re too invested in this and might spook Fannon.”

  “You’re right, but I don’t trust Carothers to get Fannon to talk.”

  “Then I’ll go see Fannon.” Folding his arms across his chest, Jake leveled him with a look. “You do trust me to get it done, right?”

  “Yeah. I mean, if I can’t be there, you’re a good alternate.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Jake laughed.

  Archer had no desire to smile.

  “I’ll visit Taylor.” Archer held up a hand. “Before you say I’m too invested, Taylor’s a long shot, and I can handle him.”

  “Fine, but don’t screw it up.” Jake’s phone rang, stilling his laughter. He pulled it from a holder on his belt.

  “It’s Carothers.” He answered and listened intently, his free hand flexing, then curling into a fist. “You’re sure?”

  Archer heard Carothers’s raised voice come through the phone but couldn’t make out his words.

  “Sorry, man. You’re right. I was out of line.” Jake sounded sincere, but he rolled his eyes as he continued to listen. “Thanks for letting me know.” He ended the call and stowed his phone.

  “What was that all about?” Archer asked.

  “Stan Fannon. He just stopped by County for a visit with Withrow.”

  “Interesting.” Archer paused to ponder the implications. “You think this means Fannon was in on the mall shooting, too?”

  “Maybe.” Jake shoved his hands in his pockets. “Another line of questioning I can use when I meet with Fannon.”

  Archer could already envision the questions and Fannon’s response. His voice would sound much like Carothers’s had. “Hey, why’d Carothers bite your head off?”

  “He was at the jail questioning Withrow so he personally saw Fannon arrive. I asked if he was sure, more as a shocked response, and Carothers took it personally. Told me he was a good detective and there was nothing wrong with his vision.”

  “Touchy, much?” Archer shook his head. “Did he mention if anyone overheard Fannon and Withrow’s conversation?”

  Jake shook his head. “But Carothers hung around and then followed Fannon. He was dumb enough to head over to Withrow’s house and he started to break the seal Carothers had put on Withrow’s place.”

  “Carothers arrest him?”

  “No. Fannon spotted Carothers and stopped short of tampering with the seal. Carothers believes, and I tend to agree with him, that there’s something in Withrow’s place that he doesn’t want us to find so he sent Fannon to get it.”

  “I don’t suppose you can insist that we get a chance to search Withrow’s house, can you?”

  “I not only can, but that’s exactly what I plan to do.” His gaze was hard and held a warning.

  Archer sensed something difficult to hear was coming next. His throat was tight. His gut ached. He wanted to pace to get rid of the feeling, but he stood waiting instead.

  “You know better than I do how guys like Withrow can behave once they experience the power of gunning someone down and taking a hostage can bring. They get a taste for it and it suddenly defines who they are and they want more of it.”

  “And...?” Archer prodded, wanting Jake to get to his point.

  “And you also know that once they get this taste they crave it. Like a drug. The only way Withrow can fulfill his craving—”

  “Is through Fannon,” Archer interrupted once he understood where Jake was going with this. “With Withrow living vicariously through Fannon, Withrow’s going to keep after Fannon until he succeeds in ending Emily’s life.”

  SIXTEEN

  Emily had woken up cranky and a visit to Lance first thing in the morning wasn’t improving her mood.

  He sat behind the desk in his office decorated in a modern style of clean lines and bold colors. He wore a tailored suit and his expensive Italian shoes were propped on the desk. Emily stood in front of him, Archer at her side. Neither of them had accepted Lance’s offer to sit, as they wanted to keep the upper hand.

  Archer had asked to be in charge of the meeting, and she’d agreed, but would ask questions if she thought they needed asking.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Lance asked, that same phony smile that made Emily nauseous every time she met with him plastered on his face.

  “We need to know your whereabouts at the time of the fire,” Archer said, his voice deep and intimating.

  “You suspect me of setting the fire,” Lance said, a big politician smile sliding across his face. “That’s priceless, but I have an alibi. My wife and I came to the fund-raiser together, and except for the few moments I spoke with you, she was with me all night.”

  “Your wife,” Emily repeated. “That’s your alibi? A woman who would lie for you.”

  “Now, don’t go disparaging my wife,” he said, but there was no bite in his tone.

  “Where were you on the fifteenth of June?” Archer asked.

  Lance arched a brow, but didn’t comment. He dropped his feet to the floor and flipped through a planner on his desktop. “I was in Portland that day. All day, at a development conference.”

  “And I suppose you
have someone who can vouch for you?”

  His eyes creased and he appeared uncomfortable for the first time since Emily had known him.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Are you a bow hunter?” Archer asked curtly.

  “Yes, but I fail to see—”

  “Did you go hunting on the fifteenth?”

  “No, as I said I was in Portland all day. Besides, hunting season isn’t open in June. Despite what you’re hinting at, I don’t break the law.”

  “Then you won’t mind giving me the name of someone who can confirm your alibi.”

  “I can provide a name if the authorities require it, but I’d rather not do so now.” He stood, his eyes like ice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”

  Emily wanted to argue, but Lance made it clear that he wasn’t going to share a name, and with no official standing in this investigation, Archer couldn’t force Lance to comply. She suspected Archer’s only recourse was to have Carothers interview Lance.

  She started for the door, but Lance called out, “Remember, Emily. My offer to buy the B and B still stands, and I’m prepared to pay top dollar.”

  She turned to tell him no when he grabbed a sticky note and jotted something down, then held it out. Curiosity got the best of her, but she wouldn’t let him know that. Without looking at what was likely a very enticing offer, she crumpled the paper into a ball and dropped it on his desk. “I said it’s not for sale.”

  His eyes flashed with anger. He circled the desk, and advanced on her. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Archer planted his feet on the floor between them as he’d done with Stan. “I’d stand down if I were you.”

  Lance ran his gaze over Archer as if he thought he could take Archer in a fight. Archer widened his stance and eyed Lance.

  Lance held up his hands and backed off.

  “Answer one thing for me before we go,” Archer said casually. “If you think Birdie’s B and B is in such bad shape, why do you want to own it?”