by DiAnn Mills
“I’ll check. Since we’ve connected a couple of dots with Connor, the update would calm your neighborhood and certainly help negate signing a hasty buyer’s agreement.” He frowned. “The whys are like walking through a maze blindfolded.” Bekah had stated that Connor recommended properties for future restaurant sites. A whole subdivision made little sense, especially given its location. Why Stacy? What was the common denominator?
She caught his attention. “I see worry lines. Whitt and I will be on our best behavior until this is settled. No crusading or knocking on doors to deter home owners from selling out. But I do want to know exactly how Lynx Connor is connected to Todd Howe.”
“Me too. Your bodyguard better keep you in line.”
“He will. Too much like a little man instead of a boy who needs to experience life.”
“When’s the hearing?”
“Wednesday afternoon.”
“I’ll make sure a prayer is sent your way.”
Her eyes indicated surprise. “A Christian?”
“I believe in God. Was brought up in church. I accepted what I heard but never understood what it meant. Working on it.”
“Hard to live a Christian life and hard not to rely on God. Which is it?”
“Another poem?”
“Yes.” She looked at the brush. “Alex, you and I—”
“Might kill each other if we attempted a relationship.”
She stepped back, shying away from him, unlike the Stacy Broussard who spoke her mind with ease. “Exactly.”
“Don’t know until we try—when this is over.”
Chet ambled their way and took the mare by the reins. “I’ve got her from here.” He nodded and walked away.
She spun a combination lock, lifted the lid of a tack box, and pulled out her purse. “Is it worth the effort?”
For some crazy reason, he wanted more than friendship between them, the three of them, Whitt included. Bizarre thinking when at times, he’d doubted her truthfulness in the crime. Wanting to trust her didn’t make her innocent. Especially when he considered his track record.
“This case has me as a person of interest, and if you proved that I was an accomplice, you’d look like a fool.”
He’d look like more than a fool if he fell for a criminal. Been there.
“The timing’s off.” She walked toward her truck.
He watched her, slumped shoulders telling him she was disappointed. Her phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket and answered. She stopped and her body stiffened.
Bad news?
Stacy slowly turned toward him. Did she need his help? He wasn’t taking any chances and took long strides her way. He reached her and she handed him her phone.
“This is your department,” she said, her fingers shaking. No one could force fear into their system. “I don’t take threats lightly.”
“What happened?”
“A man told me to stop interfering or the worst was yet to come.”
Alex hit reply on the number, but it simply rang. No voice message. “Was it the man who handled scheduling a spokesperson about the water?”
“He sounded similar. Earlier this week he gave me the name of Jake Johnson.”
“I’ll run it.”
If she was part of a murder, a drone operation, and a plan to buy up property in her neighborhood, she wouldn’t have identified Connor or volunteered to help the police. Time he confirmed his feelings about her innocence. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out her dad’s pocketknife. “This is yours.”
She took the knife. “Are you saying you believe me?”
He took a deep breath. “Yes.”
She slipped the knife into the back pocket of her jeans. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sincerely grateful.”
He saw the fright in her eyes. “To help you, I must know if anyone is upset with you.”
“Ace McMann warned me the clinic could be burned down, but he’s in jail. So is his wife. Lynx Connor informed me my clinic could go bankrupt, but he’s in custody. I remember the number he gave me, but it’s not the same as the man who just called me.”
Alex texted the FIG with both numbers. “Remember what I said earlier? Soon this will be over.”
“I’ve never backed down from anything, but between last Saturday and this craziness with the water, I want to take Whitt somewhere and hide.” She bit her lip. “Alex, how does all of this fit together? And why me? I’m not wealthy. I don’t have any power over people. I don’t even know any of those who are involved.”
“But there has to be a reason why you’ve been singled out. We have to keep probing. What about your clients? Unhappy pet owners? Church members? Neighbors? The owner of the strip center?”
She shook her head. “No one. I can’t think from reliving it all. I have no one to suspect or even a reason why the incidents are anything more than coincidences. Which is impossible.” She stared into the barn, her eyes dazed.
“We’ll shake it up and see what rolls out. The phony letter about the water used flu symptoms to garner the residents’ attention. That aspect was in motion approximately the same time as Todd Howe faced his killer.” Alex paused. “Howe and Connor had been doing business for the past year or so.” He needed to talk this through with Ric.
“If I were penciled in to find Howe’s body and the drone, and my neighborhood was the subject of a water hoax, what’s next? And why?”
Good question. “Looks like those pulling the strings are either dead or successful in keeping their IDs hidden. It’s only a matter of time for Jake Johnson.”
She rubbed her temples. “I want it over now.”
Her cell rang again, and he still had the device in his hand. “Your caller hasn’t finished his lecture. Answer it, and I’ll listen in.”
“This is Stacy. Did you forget something?”
“You’re keeping company with a man who’ll get you hurt,” the voice said.
She nodded at Alex, signaling it was the same man who’d called a few moments before. She swallowed hard. “Who?”
“The FBI agent who makes house calls.”
“Since you’re watching me, what’s your name?”
The man laughed. “Does it matter? What’s important is I know yours . . . and the kid who hangs out at your house and clinic.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Mind your own business. Sell your property, and everything will be fine.” The call ended.
Alex studied the area around them. Woods and brush could easily conceal the caller. But what was behind this?
“I need to get to the clinic,” she said.
“Is Whitt there?”
“Yes.” She shoved her phone into her jean pocket. “I’ll call him on the way, not to scare him, but to have him lock up until I arrive.”
“He’ll have questions.”
“He always does. Those can wait until later. I can’t let him hear panic in my voice.”
Alex had an idea. “I’ll call a police officer friend to keep an eye on the clinic. And I’m following you.”
ALEX DROVE HIS JEEP far enough behind Stacy’s truck to locate a tail. But his precaution didn’t bring anyone to the surface. He’d request permission to run a tracer on her cell phone and the clinic’s landline. In the meantime, he learned the numbers Stacy had given him were from burner phones. No surprise there.
Someone didn’t want her talking about the water hoax. But why? The other residents would surely pass on the info. Nothing had been mentioned about her finding Howe’s body. Were the two related? The caller referred to Alex as the FBI agent. Obviously he was a threat to their scheme that now looked like covering up fraud.
Once at the clinic, he met Stacy at her truck. She trembled, and he couldn’t fault her for being apprehensive. “Are you okay?”
“Will be soon.” The feigned enthusiasm in her voice spilled over into his suspicions. She touched his arm. “You’re going way beyond an agent investigating a domestic terrorism
case. Whitt pestered you for some of this, but you didn’t have to agree. I know it, and I appreciate what you’ve done.” Her blue eyes pooled, and she brushed away the wetness.
He leaned against her truck. “For the record, no one maneuvers me into doing things. I’ve helped because I wanted to.” He wanted to touch her, but his instincts said she’d back off. “Remember, this is the agent who’s interested in a certain veterinarian and a twelve-year-old boy.”
She breathed in deeply. “We are stubborn Cajuns.”
“Glad you agree. I’d like to search the clinic for a camera or listening device.”
She tilted her head. “Sure. My home, too, if you think it’s necessary.”
“Has to be the first time you haven’t disagreed with me. I’ll mark today on the calendar.”
She smiled. “The day’s not over yet.”
They walked to the rear door, and she unlocked it. Whitt sat at the receptionist desk with Xena at his feet and a laptop before him. “Hey.” He grinned. “You’re early. Hope the ride was easy.”
“A picnic,” she said. “Did you have a good morning?”
“Sold a few pet supplies and scheduled two checkups before your call to lock up. Filed papers, cleaned a bit, and learned more about shell companies and how Walter M. Brown Investments could be a front for another company. Illegal of course. Understand, not all shell companies have an ulterior purpose, but this one has already ridden the train of unscrupulous activities.”
Alex chuckled to offset what she must be feeling. “I’m sure you could educate me.”
“And I’m sure you have access to more information on the FBI’s secure site than I’ll ever find online.”
“Count on it. Can’t fool you. I’m going to check the clinic for a camera or listening device.”
“Need some help?”
“Maybe a few screwdrivers, a Phillips head and flathead?”
Whitt scooted off the stool and disappeared down the hallway.
“While you two are busy, I’m going to return phone calls,” she said. “Xena, you can keep me company.” The Lab limped after her. “By the way,” she called, “I’ll be ordering subs for lunch. What would you men like?”
“Lots of meat and cheese,” Alex said without hesitation. Once he finished here, he had tons of work to do. He’d call Ric on his way home from the clinic to pick his brain with the updates.
Twenty-five minutes later, while standing on a ladder, Alex found a minuscule camera located inside an air-conditioning vent. This hadn’t been placed here by an amateur.
“Stacy, do you have a minute?”
Her slim figure quickly appeared with Whitt beside her. “What’ve you found?”
He held a finger to his lips and held up the tiny camera. A moment later he disconnected the feed and dropped it into his pocket. There could be something the techs could trace. “That was the source of your caller’s intel. It’s—”
“What caller?” Whitt said.
“Later,” she whispered.
“This transmitted audio and video to a remote location.” He shined the flashlight around the area for any other devices. Satisfied he’d located the only one, Alex climbed down the ladder. “I have a whole string of questions.” He reached into his other jean pocket for his phone. “I’d like to record this. Makes it easier when Ric and I go over it.”
“You want to know who’s been in here to plant this,” Stacy said.
“Right.” He pressed Record.
“Whitt and I have the only keys to the clinic. I have a monitored alarm system and a security camera. I haven’t been notified of any abnormal activity. But I can give you the alarm company’s info and my personal code so you can check with them.”
“The camera footage has my attention. I’d like to take a look.”
She walked him back to her desk and brought up the feed on her computer.
He sat at her desk and typed into the program. “I want to set the parameters for the times when the clinic was closed, going back about six weeks. I also want the FIG to analyze it. This may take a while.”
She shook her head. “I have no idea how this could have happened.”
“Unless the alarm and security camera were hacked and disabled long enough for the device to be planted,” Whitt said.
“He’s right. The driving dilemma is how, why, who, and when.” Alex noted the modest furnishings and equipment. She eked out a living but little more. Her background indicated a savings account that allowed her some ease in her budget, but her choice of location didn’t offer an abundance of clients. Still, someone was interested in her every move. Alex studied her.
“Whitt, would you pick up the sandwiches?” she said.
“So you and Alex can talk about what’s going on like I’m a normal kid?”
“Yes.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Figures.”
She handed him twenty dollars and a coupon. “I have Cokes here. Don’t talk to strangers and make sure you have your phone.”
“Has my dad or mom been released from jail?”
“Don’t think so.”
Whitt paced the floor. “The parents are always up to no good. If it’s a fast buck, then they’re on it. Dad would bust a few heads, and Mom would do what she does best. But neither of them is smart enough for this.” He stared out at the parking lot. “A pro could hack into the security system, open the door, and insert the camera. Wouldn’t take ten minutes. The right person might charge a couple of grand.”
Alex hoped someone snatched this kid for the FBI because he had a mind like a steel trap.
Whitt headed to the door. “About what you and Alex are hiding from me? You know I’ll find out the truth.”
“And Stacy might tell you,” Alex said. “But she’s stubborn, and the more you pester her, the more she’s going to hold back.”
Whitt appeared to be satisfied and left the clinic for the sandwiches.
“I suppose I’ll fill him in after we eat,” she said. “Alex, I’m not anyone’s competition or enemy. This doesn’t make sense.”
“You haven’t recalled the right person.” He laid the screwdrivers on the receptionist counter. “We’ll resolve this and get your life back to normal. I’d like to check your home before I call it a day.”
“Whitt can take you once we’ve eaten.”
When the boy returned with lunch, the threesome ate in the back of the clinic. She insisted upon keeping the door locked, and they were officially closed. But Alex sensed her fear, and from the looks Whitt tossed her way, he believed the same thing.
“Whitt, I want to tell you what Alex and I discovered. The man who tried to buy my home, he . . .”
Alex listened to her explain in adult language what they’d learned about Lynx Connor. “That’s it. We won’t be bothered with an investment company buying out our neighbors.”
“So Connor’s being held in LA and has already spent time in prison for land fraud.” Whitt touched the side of his mouth, yellow with mustard. “If Howe and Connor were working together, Connor might have eliminated his partner.”
“That’s a theory,” Alex said. “We need evidence to charge him and the motivation for the murder, and we need to figure out where the quadcopter fits.” Why did Alex feel like Whitt was the agent? “One more thing,” Alex said. “I urge you to seek protection until this is over.”
“I’m not running from another person,” Stacy said. “The threats are just talk.”
“Would you like a list of the people who are on death row or doing life for murder? We have testimonies of them threatening their victims,” Alex said, his temper creeping into his tone.
“Miss Stacy, listen to Alex. You have no means of defending yourself. We’ve gone over your refusal to own a gun or take a martial arts class. This isn’t upper-middle-class America, but a crime-infested roach trap. I know you look at the exceptional people here as the norm, but they are few. Too many crimes have pulled you into their clutches. Somewhere
along the line, you’ve enticed a criminal to use you like a chess pawn.”
“Whitt, no. I’m not hiding, and don’t ask me again. Either of you. I’m not having a bully think he or she can scare me into hiding behind a bodyguard. I can take care of my responsibilities.”
Whitt’s bewildered gaze looked like he didn’t recognize her. Alex had seen women play the heroine before, and it seldom ended well.
He couldn’t arrange protection without her permission. How did she fit into a criminal’s plan?
SATURDAY EVENING, Stacy dumped a load of towels into the washing machine and added detergent before setting it into whirling action—or agitation. This was normal life. Sometimes boring. Sometimes disgusting. But always safe. Had she made a mistake in refusing protection?
She glanced down at her bare feet and painted toes, a mix of hot pink, melon orange, and emerald green. Alex said it was the first time he’d seen her without her boots. She smiled despite the circumstances. The third time he’d been in her home, and she . . . didn’t mind. How did she really feel about him? Not now. Too tired to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of a relationship with Special Agent Alex LeBlanc.
He’d left shortly after five o’clock, and—hallelujah—he hadn’t found a device in her home. The man took on her troubles while investigating a murder possibly tied to domestic terrorism. His effort made her feel weak. For sure he’d left here to dive into resolving the horrible atrocities linking her and now Whitt to serious criminals. How could he work through the garbage of the world and keep his sanity? That’s why she preferred animals.
Except she liked Alex. A little.
And she loved Whitt. A lot.
She yawned. Every day brought new challenges, shadows of fear darkening her life. Now she could add paranoia to the list. Howe, Connor, and the strange caller plagued her waking and sleeping hours. If her body wasn’t replenished soon with much-needed rest, she’d not be able to sort laundry.
Whitt leaned against the doorway. “I’ll cook tonight. Pasta and salad okay?”
Tears filled her eyes, and she turned so he wouldn’t see. “Perfect. Thanks. I’m going to bed early.”