Guarding Jenna: Brotherhood Protectors World

by Holt, Desiree

  “I want you to know right off the bat that the only thing I can give you is a copy of the press release we issued. Nothing else. These are all still open cases.”

  Jenna crossed her legs and sat up straight in the chair. “I’ll take whatever you can give me. And I’d hoped you might answer just a question or two for me.”

  “Why are you so interested in this particular situation? We’re pretty isolated out here, not a lot of traffic, not a lot of media interest. I’d like to know what turned you onto this case—or cases—and brought you all the way out here from the other side of the country. Or what made you even look for them. I read the two books you wrote as well as a couple of your more well-known stories. Usually you focus on crime in the major cities, so what caught your attention? We’re not exactly a thriving population center here, nor is it like we hit the big time news outlets.”

  Jenna worded her response very carefully.

  “Every so often I scan the Internet for little tidbits.” She wasn’t going to tell him about the email. “Natural reporter’s curiosity. And sometimes I’ll plug in the name of this county. When the items about the murders popped up, and there were so many of them, of course I was interested. I lived here for four years. Remember?”

  ”Of course I remember.” He scowled at her. “But I also recall you didn’t exactly make yourself a member of the community.”

  “That doesn’t mean my interest isn’t piqued about this whole thing. A string of unsolved murders would juice up any reporter’s curiosity. I’m hoping you can at least answer a few questions for me. I mean, over and above the press release.”

  He didn’t return her smile, just studied her again for a very long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not he liked her answer.

  “I’m sure you know that’s not how it goes,” he told her. “We have to proceed very carefully with these cases. Besides, we don’t even know if these deaths are connected. They span a few years.”

  “I’m going to assume you did your job and checked all likely suspects, so I ask you. Is there any reason for you to think they’re not connected? I read that they were all murdered the same way and found in similar situations.”

  “That’s true,” he agreed, “but I’d hate for you to take anything I say, jump to a wrong conclusion, and throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing.”

  She chose her next words with great care, but she wanted to see what kind of reaction she could shock out of him. “The wrong conclusion being that all of these girls were raped, probably by the same man? And murdered after they filed a complaint?”

  “Rape?” The sheriff’s face paled. “What the fuck? How did you— Who told you that?”

  “A little birdie. But I’m right, aren’t I.”

  A muscle worked in Bartell’s jaw. “Maybe I won’t be giving you a copy of the press release after all. Can’t have you stirring up this town with lies.”

  She leaned forward. “They aren’t lies, and I’m sure you damn well know that. Someone’s getting away with a heinous crime here, Sheriff, over and over again. And how many girls do you think were raped who’ve never come forward?”

  He leaned forward. “We worked damn fucking hard to keep those complaints under the table. I wanted to be sure we did a thorough investigation before we accused someone of such a heinous crime.”

  Jenna gave a ladylike snort. “And how’s that working out for you? Got any clues? Did you just think it was a coincidence that soon after a girl filed a report with you, she was killed?”

  “Of course I didn’t.” He slammed his fist on the desk. “I’ve been working the murders hoping they would let me backtrack to who the killer is.”

  “And ultimately the rapist? But you’ve got nothing so far, right?” She blew out a breath. “Look, Sheriff. I’m not going away. This story is important to me for personal reasons. I really don’t want to butt heads with you over this if I don’t have to. I’ve done this enough before that I know how to be discreet and when to keep my mouth shut.”

  “I checked you out with the news services and your publisher. They all gave you high marks for discretion, so I’m going to break my own rule here.” He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know how you came to know about the rapes, but I’m asking you to give me your word that you won’t go blabbing about it to anyone while you’re out asking your questions. I want your word on that.”

  She nodded. “You have it.”

  “Okay.” He blew out a breath. “One of the reasons we haven’t moved forward more on the rape charges is the girls were unable to give much of a description of the guy. They didn’t lay eyes on him. All they could tell me was he was a big man. That could fit a hundred men around here.”

  “I’m planning to talk to the parents,” Jenna told him. “See if maybe any of the girls said something that’s lodged in their memories.”

  He scowled at her. “You really think it’s a good idea to dredge all that up with these poor people? Isn’t what they have to live with bad enough?”

  Jenna bit back the retort that threatened to pop out of her mouth.

  “I assure you, I can be very discreet and sensitive. And I certainly won’t do anything to impede your investigation.” She emphasized the last word.

  Anger sparked in his eyes. “Are you implying that I’m not doing my job?”

  “I’m not implying anything. But it seems a little baffling that nine murders that are exact duplicates of each other haven’t been solved in all these years, and that it’s highly likely whoever this is continues to commit rape unheeded.”

  Bartell leaned forward, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You’d best be very careful what you do out there, missy. You’re right. This is a dangerous man. You don’t want to poke him too hard.”

  “Are you worried I might uncover something while I work on this story?”

  “If you do,” he said in a hard, uninflected voice, “I expect you to bring it to me at once and not share it with anyone.” He narrowed his eyes at Scot. “And what’s with him?”

  “Scot and I are a couple.” She was proud she didn’t stumble over the words. “I trust him with anything and everything.” With my life, she thought. “And he’ll make sure nothing happens to me.”

  Bartell studied both of them for a long moment.

  “Fine.” He slid a sheet of paper from the folder and handed it across the desk to her.

  Jenna studied it. There wasn’t much more than he’d already told her, and certainly no mention of the rape. There was, however, a very brief description of the condition of the bodies when they were discovered. Jenna made a mental note to study that later. She slid the sheet of paper into her messenger bag and rose from the chair.

  “Thank you.” She held out her hand. “I appreciate the time.”

  The sheriff stood, also. His handshake was firm.

  “Don’t make me regret it, okay? I’d hate to ask you to leave town because you said or did the wrong thing.”

  What a jackass.

  “I can promise you that won’t happen. And if I learn anything, I’ll bring it right to you.”

  “Fine.”

  The two men shook hands then Jenna followed Scot through the offices and out to the parking lot. It wasn’t until they were out on the street and headed away from the building that she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Well! That was some meeting.”

  “Sheriff Bartell is so uptight he almost vibrates,” Scot commented.

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “I wish I knew whether it’s because he has nine unsolved homicides on his desk and people probably screaming for his head. Or because he’s somehow involved and worried I’ll ferret it out. I have the feeling he’s protecting someone, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Probably whoever quietly bankrolls his elections and keeps him in office. Let’s go see what your friend Becca has to say. Maybe she can shed some light on this.”

  “Maybe. Let’s hope so. Otherwise, I’ve got a long haul to dig anything out.”
>
  Chapter 6

  The Eagle’s Nest was about fifteen minutes outside the little town, a fairly large, square building set in the middle of a big parking lot. The lot was more than half full, mostly with pickup trucks and semis.

  “Typical truck stop,” Jenna commented.

  “Looks like it,” Scot agreed. He pulled into a spot at the side of the building, turned off the engine, and faced Jenna. “You ready for this?”

  She nodded. “I think so. I guess I’m still in shock that she approached me the way she did. We hardly had anything to do with each other when I lived here. I didn’t even go to my high school graduation.”

  “You really withdrew after you were attacked,” he guessed.

  “I did. I had no one I could talk to. My mother was so high on Roger and the lifestyle, and petrified I’d do something to upset it. I went to classes, kept my head down, studied and then got the hell out of here.”

  He surprised her by sliding his hand over her shoulders and rubbing her neck. The tingles left by his touch shot straight to her core, enough that she had to squeeze her thighs together. She slid a glance at Scot, wondering if he noticed, and saw his gaze was fixed on her thighs. Oh, yeah He noticed.

  How was it possible that after all these years, after never being able to respond properly to a man in bed, after feeling that sex was a torture to be endured rather than enjoyed… How was it possible that just a simple touch from this man set her crazy hormones dances and her body heating up.

  When she looked at him again, he was staring straight at her, those dark-chocolate eyes glinting with heat. What the hell was going on here?

  He leaned toward her just a fraction, as if he was going to kiss her, then shifted back into his seat and opened his door.

  “Better not keep Becca waiting.”

  As soon as she was out of the truck he came around and took her hand in his.

  “Couple stuff,” he reminded her, as she looked up at him. “In case anyone’s watching us.” Then he threw her off balance by winking.

  What was it with this man that just a simple glance from him brought responses from her frozen body that she’d never had before? As they walked into the Eagle’s Nest, she was glad she had a thin jacket on. It could cover her nipples, which felt as hard as rocks and were probably poking through her sweater. When they got back to the cabin, she might have to hide in the loft for the rest of the day.

  The inside of the restaurant/truck stop was warm, and the air was redolent with the aroma of cinnamon and sugar. She remembered at once what Becca had said about their special sweet rolls, and her mouth watered.

  The place was about half full, most of the counter stools occupied. She looked around and finally spotted Becca in a booth in a corner, similar to where she and Scot had sat the night before. Was Becca hiding, too?

  They made their way to the booth and slid onto the bench across from her. Scot made sure she was on the inside, protected by his body. She half expected him to ask Becca if they could change sides. A waitress was there almost at once, with a carafe and two thick ceramic mugs.

  “If you want decaf, I gotta go back in the kitchen and get it,” she told them

  “No.” Scot smiled at her. “We’re good. But bring us some of those sweet rolls, okay?”

  “You got it.” She scurried away

  Becca looked across the table at Jenna, the half-smile on her lips belying the frightened look in her eyes.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said, clutching her mug like a lifeline. “I wasn’t sure…” Her voice drifted off.

  “Of course.” Jenna took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d learned there were times for chitchat and times to get right to the heart of the matter. This was one of the latter times. “Forgive me for being abrupt, Becca, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t ask to meet me so we could relive old times. You and I didn’t have any old times. I didn’t have any with anyone, as a matter of fact. So what’s going on?”

  Becca began shredding the paper napkin in front of her. “I was in Helena one day and went into the bookstore to get some things for my kids. They had a display for both of your books.” She gave a short, rough laugh. “To tell you the truth, I was shocked. I had no idea you had that kind of talent. I don’t think any of us expected it—”

  “Let’s not talk about the past,” Jenna broke in. “Let’s concentrate on the present. So, you saw my books…”

  Becca nodded. “I bought both of them and read them. Then I did an online search and found some of the stories you’ve done. Investigative pieces. I think what impressed me the most was your fearlessness investigating the cases.”

  “Becca, did you send me a couple of emails?”

  Panic flashed across Becca’s face for a moment, then she swallowed and nodded her head.

  “Y-Yes. We didn’t know what else to do. I talked to the girls about it after I read your books. The fact that you weren’t really part of everything made it easier for me to reach out to you.”

  “The girls?”

  Becca nodded. “Y-yes. There’s f-five of us. And it happened to all of us.”

  Shock chilled Jenna’s blood. How many young girls had this bastard raped? How many still hid in fear, knowing they’d be killed if they came forward? She forced herself to be calm, because it was important Becca feel safe with her. She reached across and rested her hand on the other woman’s arm.

  “Okay. Here I am, and I promise you nothing you tell me will go beyond this booth.”

  Becca glanced over at Scot.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Jenna assured her. “He’s a former SEAL. He’s most definitely not going to tell anyone.”

  “Okay.” The other woman seemed to gather her courage then leaned across the table toward Jenna. “You have no idea how bad this really is, Jenna. Really bad. Remember Ruth Hartwig? Her daughter was babysitting the little kids at a big house party at one of the huge ranches. She left them alone for a minute in the playroom so she could get some cold drinks from the kitchen. Someone grabbed her in the hallway, put his hands over her eyes and mouth, dragged her into one of the bedrooms, and raped her. And this just happened a couple of months ago.”

  Becca’s hands trembled and she was shredding the napkin even more.

  Nausea struck Jenna. “How old is she?” Jenna asked.

  “T-thirteen at the time. Ruth says she doesn’t know how the kid managed to keep it together for the rest of the party. When they got home, she rushed into the bathroom and was violently ill. It took Ruth a long time to get it out of her. She said the man told her he’d kill her and anyone she told. Ruth’s husband was furious. He still wanted to go to the sheriff, but their daughter was so hysterical, he had to promise not to. But that little girl is still a basket case. She won’t even go back to school. Ruth is homeschooling her for now and trying to get her to see a therapist.”

  “Oh, Becca.” Jenna gave the other woman’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

  “But that’s just the tip of it. Jenna, he’s been doing it for years. He did it to Julie, for god’s sake. Your friend. And killed her. You saw the little article. Right?”

  Jenna nodded. “I did, but none of the news items were more than a couple of paragraphs. Just the barest details.”

  “Julie’s dad asked the sheriff about it, and he said there’s not much interest in anything in an area as sparsely populated as this is. What the hell does that have to do with it? A killing is a killing.”

  “There’s more,” Jenna guessed. “Right?”

  “Yes.” Becca plucked another napkin from the holder and went to work on it. When a group of us got together one night, and Ruth was telling us about it, and how heartbroken she was at what it did to her daughter, it all came out. It happened to three of my friends when they were thirteen or fourteen. We’re sure it’s happened to other girls in town.” She sniffled. “It’s been going on for years. I—”

  “Take your time.”

  Becca took a deep breath then wen
t on. “It happened to me, too, my sophomore year in high school. My father does some local work for your—for Roger Holland. We were all invited to the big Christmas party at the ranch.”

  And there it was, the ranch again. Was there a connection? Who would have been at both parties? God! She remembered that party. She had refused to go there, afraid he would show up again. Instead, she’d hidden in her room with the door locked, while her friend was being raped.

  “I thought maybe I’d see you there,” Becca went on, “but your mother said you weren’t feeling well. I was trying to find your room to see how you were when he grabbed me.”

  “Becca, I’m so sorry.”

  Becca shivered. “Sometimes, even now, I can still feel those big hands on my eyes and my mouth, his big body pressing me into the mattress while he wraps a cloth around my eyes. Nearly suffocating as he presses me into the mattress. For years, I couldn’t stand to have a boy touch me. Thank god for my husband. He loved me enough to finally coax it out of me, and then to help me work through the nightmare so we can have some kind of life together.”

  “Jesus, Becca.” Jenna took a deep swallow of her coffee, even though by now it was cold. She knew what Becca had felt. It brought back vivid memories of her own rape.

  “It’s way past time that I could report it, even if I had the guts to do it, but it’s still going on. We have no idea how often because no one’s going to talk about it. Nobody reports it anymore because they don’t want to end up dead.” She stared at Jenna with haunted eyes. “Nine girls over a period of fourteen years have been killed, and who knows how many more have been raped.”

  “If these were young girls, why didn’t their parents push the sheriff to do something about it at the time?”

  “Oh, believe me, they have. They’re still plenty angry, with the rapist and the sheriff. They want this man found and don’t know why Bartell can’t accomplish that. It’s even happened to a couple of girls visiting friends here. Their families raise holy hell, but nothing gets resolved. The sheriff keeps saying it’s someone who shows up here every few years, but if that’s so, a stranger would stick out like a sore thumb.”