Nate tightened his grip and banged Larry against the wall, rattling his already sore head.
“You’re going to have to come up with a better lie before your trial.”
The man cursed, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. “He said someone had hired him to cause some chaos.”
Chaos? Nate frowned. What sort of job involved chaos in the middle of the night?
“What’s that mean?” he demanded.
“I don’t know. Daniel pulled a switchblade from his pocket and waved it around like he was stabbing someone, but he refused to say anything else.”
It was the switchblade that stirred Nate’s suspicion.
What did you do with a knife? He could have been implying he was going to kill someone, and instead ended up dead himself. Nate, however, thought it was far more likely that he’d been hired to slash Ellie’s tires and break Mandy’s window and perhaps even spook Tia Chambers.
Of course, that wouldn’t explain how the harassment had continued after Daniel’s death. Unless whoever had hired Daniel had also hired others to torment the women.
It was a leap, but it was a place to start.
“Did he say who was paying him for his chaos?” Nate demanded.
“Bert asked him.”
Ah, Bert. Clearly the brains of the operation. At least when he wasn’t lying face-first on a filthy couch, drool dripping from his open mouth.
“And?” Nate prompted.
“Daniel laughed and said we wouldn’t believe him if he told us.”
Nate absorbed the words. What did Daniel mean? That his employer was an upright citizen of Curry? Or a complete stranger? Nate grimaced. It was impossible to know.
“I need a name.”
“I don’t have one,” Larry snapped, then his screams ripped through the air as Nate grasped his arm and wrenched it behind his back. Nate pressed until the elbow was in danger of snapping.
“A name.”
“I don’t know.” Sweat ran down Larry’s white face. “I swear.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ellie parked in front of her office. After a sleepless night followed by three hours with the local prosecutor, she was exhausted. Greg Stone could be an arrogant ass, but when he decided to concentrate on his job, he was a fierce opponent.
Now she considered the pleasure of crawling beneath her desk and taking a short power nap. She needed sleep more than she needed lunch. Or maybe she would go for a long run to clear the cobwebs from her brain.
Grabbing her briefcase, Ellie slid out of her car and slammed shut the door. At the same time, she caught sight of the tall woman barreling down the sidewalk with more purpose than grace.
Ellie hurried forward, giving a wave of her hand. “Tia.”
The woman came to a halt, forcing a smile to her lips. “Hello, Ellie. How are you?”
Ellie glanced toward the bakery that was closed for the week. Perhaps for even longer if they didn’t find someone to replace Mandy.
“In shock, like everyone else in town,” she said, sadness tugging at her heart.
“I know.” Tia heaved a sigh. Today she was wearing stretchy pants and a chunky black sweater that looked at least two sizes too small. “It’s awful. I had no idea Mandy was into drugs. She always seemed so devoted to her son.”
Ellie grimaced. Obviously, the sheriff had already spread around his theory about the cause of death.
“It’s pretty unbelievable,” she said dryly.
Tia sent her an odd glance, as if sensing Ellie’s skepticism. Then, with a shake of her head, she stepped around Ellie.
“I should get going. I’m meeting a friend for lunch.”
Ellie reached out to touch her arm. “Wait.”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you’d had any more trouble?” Ellie asked.
Tia’s eyes widened, a flush stealing beneath her skin. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” she said with complete honesty. “What happened?”
Tia blew out a shaky breath. “I’m not sure I want to tell you. My father insists I’m imagining things.”
“I don’t,” Ellie said in fierce tones. “There’re a lot of strange things happening in Curry.”
“True.”
“Tell me,” Ellie urged. “Please.”
Tia hesitated before she at last revealed what was troubling her. “I’m sure there was some man peeking in my bedroom window.”
Ellie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Bloody rats and slashed tires for her. A strange stalker for Tia. Petty vandalism for Mandy.
All different, and yet, Ellie suspected they were all connected.
Just as the deaths of Daniel and Barb and now Mandy were connected.
But how?
“When did it happen?” she asked.
Tia shrugged. “Just this morning.”
Ellie studied the woman. She seemed more annoyed than frightened. “You’re sure it was a man?”
“Yes. But as soon as I caught sight of him in the mirror, he was running away.”
“Do you remember anything that might help identify him?”
She furrowed her brow, giving a shake of her head. “Not really. It all happened so fast.”
Ellie nodded in understanding. She’d cross-examined enough witnesses to know the mind was a strange thing. It could remember some things in perfect clarity. Others it could shut out completely. And still others remembered it in a garbled mess.
“Was he young or old?” she asked in gentle tones.
“I had the impression he was older.”
“So not a teenager?”
Tia gave an emphatic shake of her head. “Definitely not.”
“Was it a stranger?”
Tia hesitated. As if she didn’t want to answer the question. “I’m not sure. I have a weird sense that I recognized something about him, but I can’t put a name to him.” She waved her hands, clearly embarrassed. “It sounds stupid, right?”
“No, it doesn’t sound stupid,” Ellie breathed, shivering despite the bright sunlight that spilled from the cloudless sky. “Will you let me know if you see him again?”
Tia studied her with a curious gaze. “Has he been bothering you too?”
“Possibly.”
Tia heaved another sigh. “The entire town has gone insane.”
“Amen.”
Ellie watched Tia hurry away, wishing she had the evidence that would convince the woman she was in genuine danger. Until then Tia would no doubt listen to her father’s insistence that her stalker was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.
“She seems to be in a hurry.” The male voice whispered directly in her ear.
Ellie whirled around, her heart lodged in her throat. She half expected to find a serial killer with a hockey mask over his face standing behind her. Instead, her gaze landed on Nate, who was watching Tia scurry away with a curious expression.
Her jolt of fear transformed into anger as she glared into his handsome face.
“Crap. Don’t sneak up on me.”
His eyes—which were more gray than blue today—narrowed as he turned his gaze in her direction.
“I drove up in my truck that you once claimed sounds like a freight train on steroids and walked down the street like a normal person. I’m not sure how that qualifies as sneaking up on you.”
She wrinkled her nose. Okay. She might have overreacted.
“I’m a little jumpy.”
“Yeah, me too,” he admitted.
Ellie concentrated on slowing the pace of her racing heart. “Did you find the brothers you were looking for?”
His jaw tightened, as if he was clenching his teeth. “I did.”
“Did they know anything about Daniel?”
“After some prompting, they admitted they were with him the night he died.”
Ellie didn’t ask what sort of prompting he used. Nate was a man who could intimidate others without resorting to violence, but then again, she su
spected he could hold his own in a fight if necessary.
“Do you think they killed him?”
He gave a sharp shake of his head. “I think Daniel owed them money for drugs.”
She heaved a resigned sigh. She’d dealt with enough drug dealers to know what had happened between them and Daniel. Threats. Arm twisting. Maybe a few punches.
But that’s it.
“No point in killing him,” she muttered.
“Exactly,” Nate agreed. “They might rough him up, but you can’t get paid by a dead man.”
Ellie frowned. She considered herself an intelligent woman who could take small fragments of information and piece them together to discover the truth. That’s what she did as a trial lawyer. But now . . .
She felt like she was stumbling around in the dark.
“Did they tell you anything that could help?” she demanded.
Nate grimaced. “Just that Daniel assured them that he was going to make some money that night so he could pay them.”
Ellie snorted. She’d lived in Curry for a year and had never seen Daniel lift a finger.
“Doing what?”
“He was supposedly hired to cause chaos.”
Cause chaos? Was Nate joking? Or had Daniel been making up some crazy story to try and buy some time?
“What does that mean?”
“That was all Daniel said, but if I had to make a guess, I’d say he was responsible for your slashed tires.”
“Someone paid him to harass me?”
He shrugged. “It’s one theory.”
She gave a sudden shake of her head. “But he was already dead when the rats were dumped on the patio.”
“There could have been more than one person hired to cause the mysterious chaos.”
Ellie studied him in horror.
It was bad enough to believe that anyone would want to deliberately vandalize her property. Now he was implying there was some mystery person paying the citizens of Curry to pester her, along with Mandy and maybe even Tia.
“But why? What would be the point?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
She studied his lean face. She hadn’t missed the grim edge in his voice.
“But you have a thought?”
He paused, as if considering whether or not he wanted to share his inner fears.
“If I wanted chaos, it would be to create a distraction,” he at last told her.
She slowly nodded. Okay. That made sense. She once had a client who’d set fire to an empty warehouse so the cops would be across town when he robbed the local gas station.
“A distraction from what?”
“Daniel’s death. Or Barb’s. Or Mandy’s. Maybe all three. Or . . .” He allowed his words to trail away.
“What?”
“Or more to come.”
An icy ball of dread settled in the pit of Ellie’s stomach. Drugs. Vandals. Stalkers. Three deaths. How were they connected? And why was she being targeted?
Those were questions she sensed she needed to answer. Sooner rather than later.
“How do we find out?”
Nate didn’t hesitate. “Let’s talk to Mandy’s father.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nate glanced toward his GPS as he turned down yet another dirt road. Since moving to Curry he’d become accustomed to remote locations. People liked to spread out across the prairie. But this was more remote than usual.
At his side, Ellie sat in silence.
He sensed her simmering concern. A part of him regretted sharing what he’d learned from the Harper brothers. And his own suspicion that Daniel had been hired to create a diversion. A larger part, however, understood that Ellie wasn’t the sort of woman who would be satisfied sitting on the sidelines, waiting for him to protect her.
She needed to feel as if she was an active participant in discovering who was responsible for harassing her.
Plus, he wasn’t too proud to admit that he needed help. So far he’d gone from one dead end to another. He hoped she could see some connection that he was missing.
Taking yet another turn, Nate drove until he reached the end of the road. He pulled the truck to a halt and switched off the engine.
Together, he and Ellie leaned forward, staring out the front windshield with mutual surprise.
The house was four times the size of Nate’s home. Maybe five times. It was a two-story structure built of pale stone with a wraparound porch and a second-floor terrace that ran the entire front of the home. The windows were large to allow in the blazing Oklahoma sunlight. Or perhaps for the owner to survey his domain from every angle.
It rose out of the flat, dusty landscape like a monolith, jarringly out of place.
“This must be it,” Nate muttered.
Ellie released a low whistle, her brows pulled together in confusion.
“When Doris said he was a hermit I was expecting a shack with a tin roof. Not a mansion in the middle of nowhere.”
No shit. Nate shook his head. “It’s odd.”
“What is?”
“That he lived in this huge house all alone while Mandy shared a cramped apartment above the bakery with her son.”
“I suppose it was convenient for her to be so close to work,” Ellie suggested. “Especially since she was probably in the kitchen at the crack of dawn.”
“Or maybe her father didn’t invite her to return after her divorce. Not all men want a young child underfoot.”
Ellie’s lips twisted. “It’s just as likely she didn’t want to return to her childhood home. Independence has its own rewards.”
Nate felt a tug on his heart. Ellie took pride in having achieved her own success. It was what defined her, both as a woman and a lawyer. He wasn’t so sure that Mandy had had her same ambition. He suspected she would have leapt at the chance to live in the big house so she could devote her days to raising her son.
Not that it mattered now.
With a small sigh of sadness, Nate turned his attention to the circle drive that ran along the side of the house. It was empty. Not one visitor, despite the fact the man had just lost his daughter.
“Doesn’t look like Neville Morse has a lot of friends.”
Ellie glanced toward the drive. “Do you think he’s home?”
He pointed toward double glass doors. “I saw a shadow move inside when we pulled up.”
“It could be a servant.”
“There’s one way to find out,” Nate said.
They climbed out of the truck and crossed the gravel drive to the house. Before they could reach the porch, however, the door was pulled open to reveal a middle-aged man with the thick body of a bull and a face weathered by the sun.
He was wearing a pair of worn jeans and a flannel shirt that was only half buttoned. His thinning dark hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and even from a distance, Nate could see the dark circles beneath his eyes.
Whatever this man’s relationship to his daughter, it was obvious he was distressed by her death.
Moving across the porch, Neville folded his beefy arms over his chest and glared down at them.
“What ya want?”
Nate stopped at the foot of the steps, instinctively reaching to wrap his arm around Ellie’s waist and tug her close to his side. It wasn’t just the animosity in the man’s dark eyes that sent a tiny tingle of warning down his spine. Or the empty silence that surrounded them.
It was the bulge on the side of the man’s waist.
Neville had a handgun hidden beneath his shirt.
Nate offered a cautious nod of his head. “Mr. Morse.”
“If you’re a reporter—”
“I’m Nate Marcel,” Nate interrupted, baffled why the man would assume a reporter would be showing up on his doorstep. He glanced toward the woman at his side. “And this is Ellie Guthrie.”
The man’s scowl deepened. “You’re the Fed.”
Nate swallowed a sigh. There were times his past
profession was an asset, and other times it was a hindrance. He suspected right now it fell into the hindrance category.
“In another life. Now I’m just a local rancher,” he told the man.
Neville didn’t look particularly impressed. “Why are you here?”
Clearly sensing the prickles of aggression between the two men, Ellie attempted to soothe Neville’s less-than-welcoming attitude.
“I know we haven’t met, Mr. Morse, but my office is next to the bakery. I used to drop in and visit with Mandy in the mornings,” she said in soft tones. “I wanted to offer my condolences.”
The man jutted out his heavy jaw. “The funeral is on Monday. You can offer your sympathy then.”
Without warning, Neville pivoted on his heel, clearly intending to head back into the house.
“Wait,” Nate commanded.
The man grudgingly turned back. “Now what?”
Nate took a step forward. “I wonder if I could ask you a few questions.”
“ No.”
“I promise it will only take a minute.”
The man clenched his hands. “Are you deaf? I told you no,” he growled.
Nate refused to accept defeat. He hated to be a jerk when the man was mourning the death of his daughter, but he couldn’t continue to hope he would stumble across information that would expose the person, or persons, responsible for the sudden bout of crime in Curry. Not when people were dying.
Before he could continue, however, the sound of wheels crunching against the gravel had him glancing over his shoulder to watch a truck park next to his own.
Not that the two vehicles had much in common.
His poor old June looked like a relic when compared to the shiny black pickup with lots of chrome and wheels that cost as much as Nate’s house.
He watched as the driver’s door was shoved open and Walter Perry hopped out. He was dressed in an old-fashioned suit, complete with a western tie and a black Stetson hat.
Nate swallowed a rueful sigh at the realization that the man had probably just come from his son’s funeral. There’d been so much going on he’d forgotten about the small, private service.
The wiry man glanced from Nate and Ellie to Neville before he spoke.
“Is there a problem here?” the retired sheriff demanded.
“These folks can’t seem to understand when they’re not wanted,” Neville informed Walter, his voice sharp.
You Will Suffer Page 12
