“You don’t think it’s someone I know, do you?” Brett asked in a whisper, afraid he wouldn’t respond if she asked with too much force. “You’re thinking along the same lines as me, aren’t you?”
“I try not to make assumptions that could cost someone else their life,” Coen hedged, though she sensed she was right in her hypothesis. “You should call the sheriff to tell him what you remembered, but then you need to back off and allow the authorities to handle the investigation.”
Brett took ahold of her scarf, separating the two sides so that she had something to grip in her hands. She fought the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake him in frustration, not that her fingers would have been able to wrap around a man so formidable. He was built in a manner that the sheriff or deputies would never achieve, even if they worked out twenty-four seven. His kind of structure was something a man was born with. He didn’t get it by attending the local gym.
Just who was Coen Flynn?
“Why are you here?” Bret couldn’t prevent the question from escaping her lips, which were still dry with trepidation. “The sheriff said you worked with him, but I’ve never seen you in uniform or caught a glimpse of a badge. You refer to the authorities as them, not us. And you always seem to be home, constantly watching my house when you’re smoking outside. Did I mention that this house doesn’t even have a single picture on the walls? And where are your Christmas decorations? You don’t even have a tree.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was you watching me, sugar,” Coen replied with a sexy smile that caused her heart to stutter. He’d turned the tables on her with a simple endearment. He’d gone out of his way to keep things on a professional level, never once seeking her out. Now that she’d tried to turn the tables, he’d gone on the offensive quite effectively. He even took a step closer, trapping a heat between them that had nothing to do with the air being produced from the old house’s furnace. “If you wanted to get to know me better, all you had to do was ask.”
Brett weighed her options carefully. His eyes were practically black in color, matching the short beard that covered his lower face. It was almost impossible to read his expression, though the whiskers didn’t detract from his appeal in the least. It actually added to it.
He was playing her right now, because she’d pointed something out he didn’t want to address with her. She didn’t think for a moment that she was his type. She was the girl next door that everyone liked to take under their wing and protect. She’d heard that type of sentiment many times over, so he didn’t detract her in the least from her line of thinking.
This man was both smart and dangerous.
It was in the way he talked, his confident stride, and every fiber of his being.
It was in his nature to steer clear of women like her. He’d want the no-strings, carefree individual who wouldn’t question him for fear of pushing him away.
It was a good thing she didn’t lack confidence and honestly didn’t care about his personal reaction…other than getting to the truth.
“Does that kind of charm work on all the women you run with?” Brett asked resolutely, refusing to be the first one to break eye contact. She also held her ground and didn’t take a step back like he apparently thought she would in reaction to his encroachment. “You’re making me curious to find out how you would react if I actually took you up on that offer.”
Coen never let his half-smile slip, though she could have sworn she caught sight of the muscle alongside his jawline twitching in agitation. She smiled…truly smiled for the first time in a week. He thought she would have turned tail and run like a skittish little bunny or maybe a nervous schoolgirl.
“Your profession should have taught you to never judge a book by its cover, right?”
Coen was saved from answering when his cell phone rang. She was honestly surprised that it wasn’t the typical ringtone, but instead a melody she recognized. At least, she thought she did. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and answered before she could identify the song.
“Flynn.”
The interruption gave Coen the ability to step back without looking as if he’d lost the engagement he’d tried to start moments ago. She could be gracious in her win, but the genuine reason she let her eyes drift away was to look around the living room of this so-called rental. There wasn’t even a glass or plate left out on the furniture, nor a single flyer from the paper she saw delivered every morning. Either Coen was very anal retentive or he purposefully kept this place spotless because he wouldn’t be here for long.
“I’ll have to call you back.”
Coen obviously didn’t want to speak with whoever was on the other end of the line in front of her. Was it the sheriff? Maybe another investigator? Did the call have something to do with Heidi’s murder?
“Danny, I’m in the middle of a case. I can’t keep cleaning up your messes.” Coen had taken the tone she did with her class when the children weren’t listening. “The best thing that you can do right now is go speak with your parole officer. Regardless of what you think of him, he’s there to help you transition back into civilian life.”
Brett didn’t want to make Coen uncomfortable any more than he already was by speaking in front of her, so she distanced herself by walking to the window. She drew back the curtain, surprised to find Louise’s vehicle parked across the street. The blonde was quickly running up the small walkway, and with good reason. She wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“I’ve got to go.” Brett mouthed the words as she hastily collected her coat. “Sorry.”
She didn’t give Coen a chance to finish his phone call. It was probably for the best. Things had gotten a tad bit uncomfortable between the two of them, and she wasn’t sure what came next. Should they address her need to call the sheriff about what she remembered? Or should they talk about the fact that he’d just flirted with her to divert her attention from asking him personal questions?
She didn’t want to talk about either one right now, so she gratefully took the bread crumb offered in the form of Louise’s visit. Brett shrugged into her jacket and made sure Coen’s door was shut tight before she made her way back across the icy street. Louise had already turned around and was about to walk back to her vehicle when she spotted Brett.
“Hurry up,” Louise chattered with her arms crossed around her midsection in an attempt to keep warm. “It’s cold out here.”
“Of course, it is,” Brett chided, shaking her head at Louise’s idiocy. She never stopped to think things through. “We live in Colorado, Louise. Where is your winter jacket?”
“In my car.” Louise huddled close to Brett for warmth as she unlocked the door. Or was there another reason? It was something her friend had never did before, not finding the need in this safe neighborhood. All of that changed with Heidi’s murder. “I hate the bulky feeling when I drive, so I took it off. Where were you? Is that a new neighbor across the street?”
“Deputy Coen rented out old man Wilson’s house. I was just seeing if there was an update on the investigation.” Brett had never zipped her parka, so she let the fleecy material fall down her arms before hanging the hood on the hook of her coatrack. She toed her Ugg boots off, leaving them to dry on the side mat she purposefully kept against the wall and under the register for that very reason. She experienced a little bit of guilt for not implementing that consideration upon entering Coen’s house, even though he’d traipsed inside the rental property without a care in the world. “I remembered something from that night that might prove someone else other than one of us killed…”
Brett still had trouble saying the words aloud. Heidi was gone. The sharp stab in her chest hadn’t faded in the least, and she swallowed back against the tears that had come and gone since last weekend. Louise hadn’t responded to Brett’s declaration, so she looked back to find her friend still unzipping her designer boots to set them on the plastic placemat.
“I’ll go and make us some hot tea.”
“I think it was Martin,” Louise blurted out, causing Brett to spin around in shock at the accusation. “I think Martin killed Heidi, and I think he’s coming after me next.”
*
He lifted his foot off the accelerator just enough so that it wouldn’t be obvious to any of the neighbors. The vehicle slowed and allowed him to see the two women enter the house.
What were they talking about?
Had Brettany remembered something from that night? Had Louise?
Had either woman caught a glimpse of him?
Surely it would have been all over the news had either one gone to the police with anything.
A man walking his two Labradors raised a hand in acknowledgement as the dogs tried to run across the road after having seen something that had caught their attention. He had no choice but to press on the gas pedal, clearing the way for the man to walk across the street.
This uncertainty of whether or not Brettany Lambert could be his undoing needed to be dealt with…
Tonight.
CHAPTER FOUR
‡
“I wanted you to hear it from me first,” Sheriff Whitney stated after he’d run his thumb and index finger down the edges of his grey mustache. “Heidi Connolly’s funeral has to be postponed. This storm is approaching faster than anyone predicted, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to be leaving anytime soon after it gets here. They’re calling for up to two feet of snow now.”
Coen gritted his teeth against the cold gust of wind that blew in off the porch. The sheriff had refused to come inside, saying he only needed a minute of his time before he headed back out to the station. The local boys would soon be in emergency operations mode, responding to only the direst of calls during the storm. Well, Whitney wasn’t getting off that easy.
“Did Ms. Lambert get ahold of you this afternoon?”
“Yes, in fact, she did.” Sheriff Whitney looked over his shoulder toward Brettany’s residence, which was lit up with Christmas lights from one end of the house to the other, before shaking his head in bewilderment. “She is still convinced that someone other than one of the wedding guests murdered Heidi Connolly. Personally, I think it was an individual already up at that camp, and I also don’t think this specific killing has anything to do with your case, Mr. Flynn. This might change your mind, as well. An arrest warrant is being signed by the judge as we speak. It’s my hope we can bring Martin Eyles in before the roads are closed.”
He reached for a manila envelope thick with papers the sheriff had pulled out from the inside pocket of his uniformed jacket. Sheriff Whiney touched his hat in what he considered a proper salutation and took his leave before Coen could unfold its metal clasp and peruse the stack of documents.
Coen appreciated the local law enforcement’s willingness to work with SSI, and this piece of evidence in his hands might be the very thing he needed to convince himself that Moss didn’t have anything to do with Heidi Connolly’s murder.
“Well, what do you know,” Coen muttered, looking at the list of names that had made up the guest list for Chad Perkins and Louise Wynn’s wedding. One name was circled. It appeared they had a winner in the suspect pool. Martin Eyles had a record of hurting women in the past. “Sunshine is not as far away as I thought.”
Coen quickly pulled out his phone and dialed Calvert. This would have the team resting a little easier, proving his theory incorrect regarding Moss or one of his minions having a hand in Heidi’s murder. He normally didn’t appreciate being so far off base, but he’d make an exception in this case.
“I hear it’s a little cold where you are,” Calvert said in greeting, the tone of his voice sounding like he’d taken a punch to the throat. It was a little deeper than his usual tenor and certainly matched the man’s rugged looks. Coen didn’t mean that as a compliment, either. “Brody mentioned you couldn’t get enough of the white powder, so you’re sticking around for a while for the next storm. Any particular reason that I should be concerned about your charge?”
“I’m actually calling to tell you that the sheriff is hours away from making an arrest.” Coen confessed, staring intently at the printed name on the paper in his hand. “I was off in thinking Moss had anything to do with Heidi Connolly’s murder. They have a local with a track record of hunting women. He’s on the guest list.”
“Is the great Coen Flynn admitting he was wrong? Holy shit. Someone needs to mark this down on the calendar.”
Coen didn’t miss the humor lacing his boss’ question, nor the trap he’d laid out so articulately, but there was no way in hell he was taking that bait. He’d never live it down.
“I’m saying I should be in Florida by the end of the week.” That was as far as Coen would verbally admit to being overly cautious. “It looks like Heidi Connolly had some history with Martin Eyles. They had a one night stand two months ago, according to the bride who thought it was a good idea to withhold this evidence from the police. Apparently, Eyles wanted more. Connolly didn’t, but he continued to pursue her. As you already know, it didn’t end well.”
Sheriff Whitney had also printed off numerous incidents uncovered in his investigation that had occurred over the last week that went to motive, as well as proving the escalation of Eyles’ intentions. Emails, texts, and a verbal confrontation witnessed by none other than Louise Wynn herself. Why hadn’t the bride-to-be come forward before today? He figured it also had something to do with Louise’s visit to Ms. Lambert’s place today this afternoon.
Coen didn’t have to guess as to why Brettany hadn’t paid him another visit with this new information. He couldn’t really blame her. He’d acted like a complete asshole, and it was time to clean up his mess. Hadn’t he just advised his brother to do the very same thing? What good were words if they weren’t backed up by actions?
It appeared from the stack of evidence in his hand that the two women had contacted the sheriff. Had Brettany known about Martin and Heidi all along, or had Louise filled her in and she convinced her friend to do the right thing? Even if Martin Eyles was the guilty party, it didn’t explain the lack of physical evidence up at the crime scene—a weapon, bloody clothes, anything to tie Eyles physically to the murder.
Either way, it appeared that Sheriff Whitney was making an arrest this evening. Coen would leave the investigation in his capable hands now that all signs pointed away from Shepherd Moss’ involvement.
“As I said, I’ll be on the first flight out of here once the storm subsides and the planes are able to fly again.”
“That’s good. We need you here. It’s time to take the initiative away from Moss. He believes he has the upper hand at the moment, and technically he does,” Calvert admitted, though it was likely he experienced pain with each word. “But we have the ace, and I think it’s time we used her to our advantage.”
Coen had to have misunderstood, because the team had agreed early on in this investigation that Shailyn Doyle was better left hidden within the relative anonymity of WITSEC. Sure, other people had been found under the guise of the program, but those individuals hadn’t followed the rules. They’d basically outed themselves. The program was sound and witnesses who stayed on the right track would remain safe amongst the masses of humanity enjoying a typical American lifestyle.
“An old friend with connections in the US Marshals services knows of her location.” The line was heavy with silence. Was Calvert really considering using Shailyn Doyle as bait? That was hard to believe considering the lengths that Calvert had gone to in order to ensure her safety. “It’s time to bring her into play. We need to draw him out.”
Coen could understand why Calvert would want this search to end. Too many lives had already been taken, and Moss didn’t seem like a man who could somehow change the fabric of which he was made. But to purposefully taunt a highly intelligent psychopath who always seemed to be one step ahead sounded like nothing but mayhem that would end in disaster.
“This is exactly why I need everyone here. Brody has already lined up s
everal agencies to take over reconnaissance of potential targets. This time, the agent is a woman so that your charge won’t become too suspicious as to why the house across from her is changing hands every few weeks.”
“It won’t matter if it’s a woman or a man,” Coen said, already having made the decision to fill Brettany in on this case. “Ms. Lambert isn’t naïve. She’s already figured out part of the reason I’m here, and I’m making the decision to tell her the rest the minute we disconnect this call.”
“Please follow up your explanation to her with why this needs to remain classified,” Calvert urged, the significance of what he was suggesting hitting home. “Should she go to the press or start talking to the local residents, Moss could go underground or alternately fixate on her as his next target. We need to keep him believing he has the upper hand until I can set things in motion to tighten the net.”
Coen wasn’t sure he wanted to know what show Calvert was going to direct, but he needed to play his part regardless.
“When this ends, SSI is going to take on a couple of simple divorce cases, right? Maybe even a missing dog, or something to that effect?”
“The way your teammates keep being snatched up from bachelorhood, we’ll be taking nothing but cats in trees cases next year due to all the upcoming weddings.”
“You keep Sawyer and I out of that group. You always knew we were the smart ones.”
“Sawyer?” Calvert’s laugh was rarely heard, but the deep resounding guffaw came through loud and clear. “You might want to give your sidekick a call before you lose service. Listen, finish up your business there and do what you think is best with regards to Ms. Lambert. Then you get your ass back down here so that we can finish what Moss started.”
Coen pulled his phone away from his ear, staring at the lighted display with surprise. Was Calvert suggesting that Sawyer hooked up with Brody’s sister?
Honest Intentions (The Safeguard Series, Book Five) Page 4