“I handle part of it. Gillian picks up where she can. Geoff when it’s something he can handle.”
“So would you say it’s pretty equal?”
“In a way. What do my parents have to do with this?”
“Are you familiar with the terms of their will?”
“No.” The woman looked away. In that moment Paige knew she was lying. She’d been trained enough in interrogation and body language to get a good feeling when someone was hiding something.
“I think you are. You signed as witness here. And here. And I think you know why we brought you here. It’s called motive.”
“And what would that be?”
“What it almost always is. In the earlier versions of your parents’ will you received quite a bit of their assets to provide for their care. But in the latest version, your portion and Clayton’s were decreased to make a larger bequest to Gillian. That angered you, didn’t it?”
“Of course it did. How could it not? I work hard to take care of them, while she moves away and builds her own career. She has other income. I have a pittance of child support and that’s it.”
“And Gillian’s books are bringing in more and more money. She’s the one who has been paying for the daily nursing care that comes in for three hours each day, hasn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“So tell me, Carolyn…we know that most of the letters were probably written by a woman, and the rest by a slightly less educated man. I think…I think—and I can confirm this with a single phone call to a handwriting expert now that we have several samples of your writing—that you are that woman.” Handwriting analysis wasn’t strictly a forensic science, something that Payton had often explained to Paige, but it could be useful during the course of an investigation. Especially something like this. “Care to explain? We have your handwriting that our analyst is matching right now. We have the stationary in your desk. And we have some serious motive here. Twenty thousand dollars motive, actually. Here’s the deal, and my boss will probably eat my head off for saying this, but you’re in the good spot right now. At least compared to your brother Clayton. You talk, you may just stay out of jail—or be out in time to see your daughter graduate high school.”
Paige then went into the reading of the woman’s rights.
She wanted every base covered when the woman inevitably cracked.
They had her. And they all knew it.
It took less than an hour of continued questioning before the woman finally broke and told them where her brother was hiding…and why.
Greed. It almost always came down to either greed or jealousy, didn’t it?
Chapter 31
THE small cabin thirty-five miles from the Birch properties was old, rotted, and run-down. Al couldn’t imagine anyone actually living there, but Carolyn had said that was the only property Clayton would be inheriting from their parents and he spent a lot of time there.
Geoff got his parents’ house and the surrounding acres. Gillian got enough cash to pay off her mortgage and a portion of any profit Geoff was able to produce from the properties. Carolyn had been set to inherit the house she and her daughter already shared plus a profit from her brother’s work. And Clayton got this place—undoubtedly the worst share of their parents’ estate, but still pretty sizeable when the surrounding acreage was included. In Al’s best estimation, Gillian had been bequeathed the least amount of money.
But Clayton and Carolyn had gotten greedy. They’d wanted more, and they’d reasoned that if Gillian was terrified enough to move back in with her parents, her parents would no longer feel the need to give her money to pay off her mortgage.
And Carolyn thought having her sister living with her parents would lessen her own caretaking burden.
Selfish. Greed. Jealousy. All had played a factor in this nasty little plan.
Al would never truly understand it—there was no way she’d ever do anything to hurt her brothers. Ever.
“I just don’t get it.”
“I know.” Paige hadn’t said much since they stopped by the hospital and told Gillian and the now awake Geoff what had happened.
They’d learned that Carolyn had prepared stew and brought her brothers a crock full. She’d dropped several prescription tranquilizers in Geoff’s bowl so that he would be out of the way while Clayton went to terrorize Gillian.
They hadn’t realized the FBI would actually stay with their sister, although Al was certain someone had mentioned it to Geoff.
It had been pure luck that kept Hernandez from catching Clayton in his father’s Buick that night.
Now they just had to find him, tie up the loose ends, and then everything would be done.
She was so looking forward to things being done.
Chapter 32
CLAYTON Birch met them at the edge of the porch of the run-down cabin. The porch was covered in old farm implements, a wood pile, and several old barrels.
The yard was littered with more of the same. It was a nasty place, and Paige could see where someone wouldn’t want it. “Clayton, we have been trying to find you for several hours. We have news about your family.” She forced herself to radiate calm and unstressed. They’d decided to go in with a small number of people—her, Seb, Al, two deputies and Chief Marshall—to prevent too much gossip escaping before Geoff and Gillian were ready to face it.
This had destroyed their family and Paige knew how much that had to be hurting them right now. She stepped closer to the porch and to the man in question. Sebastian and Chief Marshall were a yard or so behind her. She kept her weapon holstered, but knew the two men were ready to draw theirs at the first sign of a threat.
And Al and the deputies were at the edge of the drive, ready to assist if necessary.
Hopefully it wouldn’t be necessary.
“Mr. Birch, can you please step off the porch?” Sebastian asked.
He shifted closer, but he stayed at the top of the four steps that lead up to the porch. “Why are you here? What’s going on?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Mr. Birch. We’ve spoken with your sister.” Paige heard the anger in Chief Marshall’s words. She had to admire the way he controlled himself—and hoped that Clayton Birch wouldn’t do anything too stupid in return for that anger. “You know why we’re here.”
She could almost see the desperation slip into his eyes.
Desperation and stupidity—and anyone who’d thought this hair-brained scheme would work had to be pretty stupid—never made a good partnership. Paige tensed.
Birch darted toward the left and grabbed something she couldn’t see. Marshall yelled. Birch dove out of sight. A shot rang out.
Paige felt a rush of fire across her forehead and felt herself falling.
Chapter 33
AL watched the events unfold in a matter of mere seconds and knew Sebastian, Paige, and Marshall were screwed. They had no real cover except for the trash spread around rusting in Birch’s yard.
Clayton Birch was still on the porch, behind what looked to be a wood pile.
His cover was a whole lot more substantial than what was available to the other three. Al had her own weapon pulled and took cover behind the trunk of the deputies’ patrol car. They were in similar positions.
Chief Marshall was moving. He covered Paige with his own much larger body, but the two of them were too far from anything that would provide much cover.
Sebastian had fared a bit better—he’d been close enough to an old metal barrel to dive behind it.
Al looked at the deputy on her left. “Cover. I’m going to try to get behind him.”
The older of the two deputies nodded. “Be careful, Agent. We don’t know how much ammo he has, and around here that can be quite a lot. He could keep us at bay for hours if he has enough rounds.
“Understood.”
Clayton fired again, sending at least a dozen rounds straight at where the others were. Al’s blood froze thinking of her family right there. This feeling was why it was frowned on
to have family on the same team. She got it, she really did.
It would be so easy to freeze up and forget what it was she should be doing.
She couldn’t do that.
Not with Paige and Seb depending on her.
She made her way around the outer edge of the main section of the property. There was no way Clayton could keep the three penned down in the front yard and watch the backyard from where he was covering.
Al hurried, careful to keep cover between her and the porch—and to not look at the people trapped by the man’s gunfire.
More rounds flew toward her friends and she heard return fire from the deputies.
Finally she was in a position to see the light blue of the shirt Clayton was wearing. Al raised her weapon and took aim.
He fired toward the deputies and shifted slightly to his right.
That put him directly in Al’s line of sight.
She pulled the trigger, just like she’d been taught.
And it was over just like that.
Epilogue
PAIGE’S head hurt. And that was making it very difficult to stay asleep. She’d turned down painkillers the doctors had given her at the hospital because she was absolutely terrified of being even remotely drugged again after what had happened to her before.
Now she was considering herself to be a total idiot. She should have at least gone for some acetaminophen or something, right?
It had taken four stitches to fix the gash left when Clayton’s bullet had grazed her temple. She’d been extremely lucky. If he’d been a better shot, she’d be dead.
Everyone knew it.
But now they were all hovering over her.
She heard Al and Sebastian talking and forced her eyes open. “Guys. Killer headache here. Can you keep it down?”
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PAVAD: FBI Case Files #0002 “Knocked Down”
When Sebastian Lorcan unlocked the door to the penthouse he shared with his wife and daughter the last thing he expected to see was three beautiful women.
“Don’t the two of you get enough of me at PAVAD?” The Prevention & Analysis of Violent Acts Division of the FBI sucked enough of his time from his family. And he knew it was the same for the two women currently curled up next to his wife on the couch.
Still, it warmed him to see how comfortable his wife was with the other two women. Carrie’s mild autism prevented her from being too at ease with people in her space. Even these two, some of the closest members of her family.
“Hey, boss. You’re interrupting some serious TV time.” The woman who spoke was dark-haired and dark-eyed—and practically upside down on his favorite black leather couch. She rolled lightly and settled in a more upright position. “Your opinion? Is it logical to kill a vampire with a chair leg? In that same position?”
He was used to Paige’s weird conversational habits but it still took him a moment to figure out what she meant. The television, of course. “Charmed? Really? Don’t the three of you get enough of kicking bad-guy ass at work?”
His sister-in-law Alessandra, wife of his brother Seth, snorted delicately. “Not exactly like these three. Of course, there’s a good argument that the kind of monsters we deal with are demons, too.”
“No. Not demons. Just pure evil.” And Sebastian knew they all knew it, too. Each one of them had faced their own share of demons over the last few years.
But they had triumphed. And that was what mattered the most. “Where’s Maddie?”
His wife smiled. “She’s sleeping. The antibiotics are working, I think. She’s been fever-free for the last two hours.”
Some of his worry lifted. There was only so much a father could handle when his child was ill. He leaned down—over Al—and kissed Carrie.
He’d missed seeing her at the office. Their times together were far too precious, as it was. When they had the opportunity to be off work together, he took it. But it wasn’t possible with Maddie sick.
After the baby was born he and Carrie had discussed their family’s needs with Ed Dennis, head of PAVAD, and Hellbrook, head of the Complex Crimes Unit where both Sebastian and Carrie worked. A permanent office area near the CCU bullpen had been arranged for Carrie. She was out of the field on a mostly permanent basis, but still oversaw all of CCU Team One’s cyber and computer needs, and consulted on the other teams’ needs. There had been several times when she’d worked from their home office when needed as well.
It had been that, or she was set on quitting the FBI and focusing on software development. The Bureau hadn’t wanted to lose her skills, so this compromise had been made.
She was home on a regular evening basis with their daughter—but unfortunately he was not.
Which was why he was a little bit put out to see Al and Paige. He saw enough of them at work. They were so interfering with his plans…
“Go. Both of you. I want some alone time with my wife. Don’t you have husbands waiting on you? Paige, I saw yours eating a newbie special agent for lunch earlier. He should be nice and ready for you when you get home.” Both women, agents on his team in the CCU, had married within the last six months. And they were just as limited in their times with their husbands as he was with his wife. He just wanted the two of them gone—as quickly as possible.
“I really wish people would get it. Mick only eats special agents who deserve it. But I do need to be going. Simon has a basketball game tonight. I told him I’d be there.”
“You’re my ride, little sister. Let’s get going.” Al was just as eager to go as Paige and Sebastian smiled inside thinking about the why. “We’re looking at a house this evening. And from the pictures online this might be a good one.”
His brother was batshit crazy over Al, and the baby she was currently carrying. Not that anyone could tell by looking at his sister-in-law. It was still in the early stages. He remembered how he’d felt looking at Carrie just after they’d found out about Maddie. Now Seth, the wildest one of his siblings, was searching real estate listings and talking about gender-neutral nurseries.
Life was funny like that.
One minute you’re being screwed by the world, and the next you’ve found your everything.
Five minutes later both of his sisters-in-law—Paige and Carrie were foster sisters—were out of his hair and he had his face buried in the fire red that was his wife’s. “I thought they’d never leave.”
“You’ve only been home eight minutes.”
“It seems like they were here forever.”
“Rough day? I thought it was just meetings.”
“It was. Financial ones. I hate numbers. That’s Seth’s gig, not mine. And we had to review some old cases to the money crunchers. Including the Bevins case. Remember that one?” He wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her over the top of him. He made sure to do it slowly. Even after all the months they’d been married, Carrie didn’t like sudden movements. She lay her head on his shoulder and just rested there against him.
She fit perfectly. She always had. Always would.
“How could I forget? It was obvious from day one that you hated working with me. Then.”
“Hated? Strong word for how I felt. Horny. Heated. Those are better words.”
“That’s not how I remember it.”
“No? Let’s think about it then…you and I were…”
“Called into Ed Dennis’s office. I’d never been in there before…”
Look for Case File #0002
“Knocked Down”
May 2015!
Coming June 24, 2015
The Next
PAVAD: FBI Romantic Suspense
Novel…
Ghosting
Strings. Life was strings. Almost like pushpins on a bulletin board with yarn connecting the dots. Everything was
connected. Everything.
She’d always thought of life that way. Thought of science that way. It had been one of the few ways she’d consoled herself as a child when her mother would turn violent. When she’d think of the loving father who’d supposedly been dead since she wasn’t yet a teenager. When she’d think of the two sisters who she’d loved since the moments they were born.
Since her best friend had married the father she’d found when she was a full-grown woman. Since that best friend had given birth to her two youngest siblings almost six months earlier.
Everything and everyone was connected. Working forensics for the best federal agency in the country was just another string that made up her life.
Josh was a string, too. That was why she found herself opening the door to the house where she knew she’d find him. It wasn’t where he lived—but he owned it, along with four other property foreclosures that he was in the middle of rehabbing in his spare time. She’d tried two other properties first—one reason it was so late.
She had to be at work in seven hours. So did he.
That was one of the things that brought her to one of the up-and-coming St. Louis neighborhoods so late at night. The case he’d just finished had been one of those that everyone knew was a nightmare. One that would stay with you for years to come—if you ever escaped it.
And Josh had been the one to hold the twelve year old boy as the child had died. Had held him, talked with him, and from what she’d been told by her father in confidence a few hours earlier, had tried to reassure the kid that life on the other side would be better than the one the boy was leaving behind. Because they’d all known the boy, son of the perpetrator, would not live through the day. And he hadn’t.
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