Present Danger

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Present Danger Page 20

by Elizabeth Goddard

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Terra watched Owen. Maybe the party today had exhausted him and he wasn’t able to put on a good show for her, but he appeared troubled. She would give anything if she could help him through this.

  “I’m glad he was here for you today. He looked different tonight than in those pictures.”

  “Of course he did. In the pictures, his sister was still alive.”

  That wasn’t what she’d meant. Terra couldn’t quite put her finger on it, then . . . yes . . . she saw it now.

  FORTY-TWO

  Early Monday morning, Jack nursed a hot coffee and waited for Terra in a booth at a local diner. He spotted her vehicle parked down the road and focused on his coffee. He looked up as she entered the diner. His heart rate always spiked when she stepped into view, especially with that smile and those bright blue eyes.

  How had he ever walked away from this woman? How many times would he think about what a fool he’d been?

  She scooted into the booth across from him. “Did you order for me? I’m starved.”

  He kept his tone even. “Um . . . I did.”

  The waitress approached the table and set several dishes in front of Terra. Pancakes, bacon and eggs, hash browns, a colorful display of donuts.

  Terra rewarded him with a smile that he felt to his toes. Appreciation flashed in her luminous eyes. Yeah. That was the reaction he’d been going for. And it tethered his heart to her.

  “Now, can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked.

  “No, I think I’m good,” Terra said.

  “I’ll be back to check on you.” The waitress left.

  Terra’s big blues held him captive. “You want to explain this?”

  He hid his smile while he salted and peppered his eggs. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted. I could have waited.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. A twinge of longing coursed through him. This moment triggered good memories from their past together. The past he’d ruined—or rather, the future he’d ruined.

  “Well, thank you. I needed a good laugh today.” She peered at her plate but lifted her eyes to look at him through her long lashes.

  His breath caught.

  Jack cleared his throat, testing his ability to speak. “In the meantime, tell me what’s new.”

  “Since I saw you on Saturday? Not much. I talked to Gramps about meeting with Leif. He just wanted to talk to him about Owen to find out how he’s really doing. He’s worried about his grandson, that’s all.”

  And you believe him? But Jack would be overstepping to say the words. She acted like something was bothering her, but then again, so did he. They hadn’t made much progress in solving two murders.

  “Anything else?”

  “Gramps and I talked about his running for office. I’m just worried about him. He’s excited about the challenge, and I wouldn’t take his happiness away for the world, but I get the feeling he’s trying to fill a hole. Like he never filled the emptiness after losing my mom. And then there’s Owen. He needs Gramps to help him with this new equestrian therapy thing. If Gramps is off campaigning, he won’t have time to help. I guess I’d just like to understand where this is coming from and where it’s going.”

  “I get it. Families have their stuff.”

  She laughed. “Right. I know you’ve got your hands full with your aunt. How’s she doing?”

  “Her wrist is on the mend but still hurts. Fortunately, she has an appointment next week to see her doctor. I’m going with her. I want to talk to him about the dementia. She’s scared. I’m scared for her.”

  Terra reached across the table and grabbed his hand. Compassion filled her gaze, but she said nothing. He appreciated that she didn’t offer platitudes. The concern in her eyes was enough.

  He cleared his throat. “Let’s get back to the investigation now that we’ve taken some time and stepped back. So, what’s a Middle Eastern artifact doing here in Montana?”

  “Well, I’d say we could ask Jim, but someone didn’t want him talking about it.” Terra lifted a chocolate donut and took a bite. She was going for the bad stuff first.

  Jack ate a few bites of his omelet. “And since the forest and cabin are ash now, we’re not going to find more answers there.”

  He poured more coffee from the carafe the waitress had left.

  “That could be why he set it on fire.” Terra set the donut aside after only a couple of bites, then started in on the eggs and bacon. “I still need to pay a visit to the museum. I read through the interview reports your people gathered. Have you learned anything else?”

  “I think there’s a possible connection here that we’re overlooking,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  He hesitated. Should he bring it up? Or wait for her to think of it on her own? He saw in her eyes that she had already thought of it, but she wasn’t willing to put that on the table. Should he just bide his time and only bring it up if it came to that? “Never mind.”

  Terra’s hand shot across the table to grab his again, and he savored the softness of her skin. “Don’t do that. I want to know what you’re thinking. Don’t hold out on me.”

  He sensed the desperation in her. The fear of losing the connection they’d found. “I’m not holding out, Terra.” He squeezed her hand. “You are.”

  “What . . . what are you talking about?” She eased her hand from his grip.

  He wanted to snatch it back. Instead, he toyed with his napkin and blew out a breath. They’d been walking a fine line—growing closer, maybe reaching across the distance their tumultuous past had created—and crossing that professional line in the midst of what was becoming a high-profile investigation.

  Jack couldn’t deny he had feelings for this woman.

  But this conversation could serve as the detonator to a possible future with her. Still, he wouldn’t hold back. “We both know what I’m talking about. I’m trying to catch a murderer here. Those murders are somehow linked to artifact trafficking. Unless we’re off track. I’m willing to look at all the possibilities. Are you?”

  Terra closed her eyes for a few breaths, then opened them. “You’re talking about my brother who served in the Army in a Middle Eastern country. And his friend Leif. There are a lot of soldiers from Montana, a lot of veterans who make their home here, Jack. But I . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, Saturday night I browsed through a few photographs. Not digital. Actual photographs that Owen had left out. Leif was in the photos with him.”

  Terra shut her eyes again. When she opened them, she stared right through him. “Leif was wearing a nose ring in the picture.”

  “You mean like the small black wire in Jim’s hand?”

  “Exactly like it,” she said.

  Jack dropped his napkin onto his plate. “Then we’re onto something. I’ll get people to dig into his background. See what we can come up with.”

  Terra shoved her hair behind her ears, then hung her head. “I don’t want it to be Leif.”

  Jack understood why Terra didn’t want to bring the investigation close to her brother. Her family was everything.

  “Yet he suddenly shows up,” she added as she glanced up. “We need to know when he got to town.”

  She took a bite of bacon.

  “We’ll look into that. In the meantime, Montana State Lab will work on DNA from the nose ring. But we both know that could take months,” he said. “There’s something else. I found out more about Neva Bolz. You were right to suggest we search far and wide. She was a world traveler in her job as an oil consultant.”

  Terra stopped chewing and stared at him. She swallowed. “Are you going to make me pull it out of you? Where exactly?”

  “Algiers.”

  “That could be the connection we’re looking for.” Terra sounded relieved to shift the conversation away from Leif and her brother. “Star Oil Company stumbles across an archaeological site during exploratory drilling. Neva somehow gets her hands on something of val
ue and sells it on the black market. She gets connected, and since she travels to Algiers, her reach and her clients and connections grow.”

  “It’s one theory,” he said.

  “Jack, she was murdered. She’s definitely part of this.”

  “We know she’s connected, and now we have an idea why,” he said. “Still, the only thing we know about her murderer is that he’s about six feet tall and sometimes wears a gray hoodie.”

  Terra stared into her coffee. She had to be thinking what he was thinking.

  Leif was also about six feet tall.

  FORTY-THREE

  Terra wished she wasn’t following Jack’s thinking, but how could she not?

  If Leif was involved, then it logically followed that Owen could be as well. But she refused to believe that her brother could be part of this. And she held on to hope that Leif wasn’t their murderer. Because if he was, that would be too destabilizing for Owen. Terra rubbed her eyes as nausea rippled through her stomach. Time to move on to the next topic. “I’m going to talk to the curator myself today about the murder weapon found at his museum. I feel like there are some inconsistencies after reading the reports.”

  “We can go together. But I think it’s a priority that we should shadow Leif. See where he goes while he’s here.”

  “You mean in addition to meeting with my grandfather in his office.” Looked like the day and her teamwork with Jack were getting off to a bad start. Terra resented the shards of offense jabbing through her. “I already explained that. I’m glad Gramps asked Leif about how Owen was really doing.” As if Leif would know better than she and Gramps, who’d been with Owen since he got home.

  Maybe they were only seeing what Owen wanted them to see. She thought of his late night on the laptop and how he tried to get rid of her.

  Nausea again.

  Oh, Owen. He couldn’t be trying to raise funds for his equestrian project by selling artifacts, could he? No. He wasn’t involved. She knew Owen. Or at least she had known him before he left when she was a teenager, and he’d spent his life on the other side of the world, experiencing God knew what.

  “Yes, I do mean in addition to your grandfather’s office.” Jack arched an eyebrow, a questioning look in his eyes.

  What kind of investigator would she be if she tried to steer them away from Leif because of her brother?

  Her throat constricted. “I agree we should shadow Leif.”

  Terra pushed down the rising bile. God, please let Owen be innocent here.

  She admitted to herself—but not to Jack—that the Owen who had come home to them was not the same Owen who had left. But everyone changed. She certainly wasn’t the same person she was when she’d moved to Colorado.

  “Hey, where’d you go?” Jack’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  “I’m here. Sorry.”

  “Any idea how much money can be made trafficking artifacts? Native American or otherwise?”

  Terra sipped her water before answering. “I wouldn’t think it would be worth murder. Especially not two murders. But this Middle Eastern item, I have no idea. I’ll look into it, but I suppose it’s about what collectors are willing to pay. Collectors and auction houses.” Terra had a lot more work to do.

  “And the money paid goes to individuals? Or . . . certain nefarious organizations?”

  She nodded. “I know where you’re going with this. Like guns and drugs, anything that can make money can fund the cause of terrorism.”

  And her brother was definitely not involved in funding a cause he’d lost his leg fighting against.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Jack finished his coffee while he watched Terra head out the door and get into her vehicle. A call had come through, and she’d used it as her excuse to end their breakfast together.

  He would sit there until he worked off his mounting irritation. She’d been angry, though not necessarily at him. More like frustrated with the path their investigation was taking. The possibility of Leif being a murderer was drawing them much too close to home—Terra’s home, specifically. And that had been enough to douse the spark of growing affection between them. Terra was unwilling to even consider her brother’s involvement. She could be too close to this investigation. But there wasn’t enough information to say one way or another. Not yet.

  So much for working with her today. And where would the two of them be on the other side of this? He sure hoped Owen wasn’t involved, for Terra’s sake.

  He reached over to grab a slice of the bacon she’d left on the spread he’d ordered for her and grinned as he thought about that look on her beautiful face.

  That had been priceless.

  His cell rang. “Tanner here.”

  “Hey, Jack. Deputy Sarnes. I’ve got something for you.”

  Jack sat up. “I’m listening.”

  “I have a friend who overheard a conversation at a bar.”

  The waitress approached again and started clearing Terra’s plates. Jack eyed her. “I’m still working on it.”

  She smiled and refilled his coffee cup.

  “You’re still working on it? How do you even know what I’m going to say?”

  “Not talking to you. I was . . . Just tell me.”

  “Bartender down at the bar called Bar Wars mentioned he hadn’t seen a guy in a few days. Comes in every night and takes up a whole booth for a couple of hours. Keeps it all to himself. The regulars know not to sit there ’cause Blevins is coming. You know, like a church pew.”

  Um, okay. “Go on.”

  “Bartender says Blevins hasn’t been in. Says another guy took his place.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “He thinks it’s strange. Something’s going on. I was going to go by and ask around myself.”

  “And why don’t you? I have my hands full with the murder investigation.” And Terra Connors.

  “Well, see, that’s the thing. There could be a connection.”

  “So far I don’t see it.”

  “Neva Bolz was in there. She met with Blevins once or twice. But if you want me to—”

  “No. I got it. You did the right thing to bring this to me.”

  Jack pulled bills from his wallet and laid enough on the table to cover the bill and a good tip. “What bar did you say it was?”

  “Bar Wars.”

  Jack knew the place. An odd establishment for this part of the world, if you asked him.

  “And the bartender’s name?”

  “Now, to be clear, my friend won’t want his name brought up. And if you start asking questions, the bartender will get suspicious.”

  “Sarnes, two people have been murdered. I’m trying to stop the madness before someone else is killed.”

  Sarnes sighed. “You’re right. I thought you could stake it out instead of asking questions. But if you need to know, the bartender is called Billy Dee. You know, like that Star Wars actor.”

  Jack scratched his head. “No, which one?” Shoot, why had he asked that? He didn’t care.

  “Lando. The Empire Strikes Back.” The deputy snorted. “The bar is like a tribute to Star Wars. Posters and memorabilia. Makes it interesting. The bartenders and waitresses have Star Wars names. One of the movie actors has a ranch in the county. Didn’t you know that?”

  “No.” Jack had been away for too long and still clearly had some catching up to do. “Listen, thanks for the tip. So, I go ask for Lando. No, wait. Billy Dee, like the actor instead of the character.”

  “Right. Billy Dee.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “In the meantime, let’s start looking for Blevins. See if he’s home but hasn’t gone to the bar as usual. Find out everything you can about him. I’ll be the one to question him, though.” This Blevins guy could be a witness, suspect, or . . . a victim.

  If Terra had waited a few more moments, she could have learned about his conversation too. He’d check up on this lead, and if it went anywhere, he would let her know. Part of him wi
shed she wasn’t involved and they weren’t collaborating, but the artifacts and murders were tied together.

  Since Bar Wars was a couple of blocks down the street, he took the opportunity to get some fresh air and exercise. Would the place even be open at ten-thirty in the morning?

  At the door, he pushed and pulled, but it was locked.

  A bulky man—midfifties, graying yellow hair—slowly walked toward him and stopped at the door. “Can I help you?”

  “I don’t know. Can you get inside the bar?”

  He produced a key. “That, I can do. But we don’t open until eleven o’clock. You’ll have to wait.”

  Jack hadn’t wanted to throw around his weight, but he didn’t have time for this. He flashed his credentials.

  The man quickly covered his frown with a smile.

  “What?” Jack asked.

  “Talking to the cops is bad for business.” He opened the door.

  Jack stepped into the dark, waiting a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. “I don’t see why it’s bad for business. You’re not doing anything illegal, are you?”

  The man moved to stand behind the bar and crossed his arms. “No, I’m not. But the way I see it, people come here to talk and let off steam. They won’t feel so comfortable talking to me if they see me talking to you.”

  Jack slid onto a stool. “Like anyone could tell I’m a cop. I’m not wearing a uniform.”

  The man laughed. “I pegged you as soon as I saw you standing at my door.” He grabbed a couple of small bottles of club soda and handed one to Jack. “It’s on the house.”

  Jack produced a five-dollar bill. “Thanks, but I’m more than happy to pay. If we get this over with before you officially open, then you don’t need to worry that anyone will see you talking to me.”

  The guy nodded. “Fine. Mind going out the back when we’re done? I usually come in that way but stopped in at the pharmacy across the street.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Thanks for the invitation. That would give him a chance to look the place over on his way out. “So, what’s your name?”

  The man started wiping down the bar, a predictable work habit, and right now, an obviously nervous habit. “You mean my real name?”

 

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