You Will Suffer

by Alexandra Ivy

  “Do you know how the Hopewell Clinic caught on fire?”

  “If there was a fire, I assume it was an accident.”

  “Electrical? A lightning strike?” she suggested. “A patient leaving a candle burning?”

  “I haven’t the least notion. Nor do I care.” A hint of color stained his cheeks, revealing his inner anger. It was something Ellie had never seen before. Her father was always so calm and in complete control of his emotions. She was clearly pressing on a tender nerve. “Return to your house and pack your bags, Eloise.”

  She stiffened her spine. “No.”

  “That wasn’t a request.”

  “Thankfully I’m an adult,” she reminded him. “I am perfectly capable of deciding if I want to stay in Curry.”

  He glared at her, but he didn’t lose his temper. Instead, he went on the offense. It was what he did best.

  “You know that your lover is suspected of murder.”

  Ellie didn’t flinch. Instead, she silently shifted through the various people who could have told her father about Larry Harper’s murder and the fact that Nate had been taken to the sheriff’s office for questioning.

  The sheriff was the most obvious choice, but Curry was too small not to have the gossip already sweeping through town. Anyone could have told her father.

  Accepting she still didn’t know who had been snitching on her, Ellie faced her father squarely.

  “Nate is a man of honor.”

  Colin released a sharp laugh. “Do you know how many men of honor I’ve given the death penalty? Anyone can be lured into killing. They do it for greed. For revenge.” His lips twisted. “For love.”

  An odd sensation clutched her stomach at his harsh tone. If she was foolish enough to listen to her gut, she might suspect that her father was speaking from personal experience. Thankfully, she was a woman who depended on her brain. Colin Guthrie was a highly respected judge who’d never had so much as a speeding ticket.

  There was no reason to believe that he had ever broken the law.

  The unnerving sensation, however, continued to nag at her.

  Ellie cleared her throat. “Okay. If Nate killed someone, he’s too intelligent to leave the body in his own building,” she amended.

  “He might have panicked.”

  Ellie snorted. It was obvious her father had never met Nate.

  “He’s a trained FBI agent. He doesn’t panic,” she dryly assured him.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t share your confidence in his innocence.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  Her father glanced away, trying to give the impression he was deciding whether or not to share some sort of unpleasant information.

  “I have been doing my research since we last spoke,” he said at last, glancing back at her. “I can assure you that Nate Marcel is not the man you believe him to be.”

  Ellie had never wavered in her trust in Nate. From the beginning, she’d sensed that he was a decent man, even when she was trying to keep him at a distance. And over the past year, her first impression had only been solidified.

  Nate was the first to offer his help to his neighbors. He was kind and generous to everyone in Curry, not just those who could offer him something in return. He was charming. He was loyal. And he was strong enough to stand up for what was right, no matter what the cost to himself.

  She gave a slow shake of her head, regarding her father with a small pang of regret.

  “I’m beginning to fear that you’re not the man I believed you to be.”

  Colin jerked, as if she’d physically struck him. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  She didn’t answer. Because she didn’t have one.

  Not yet.

  “Why did you leave Curry?” she abruptly asked.

  “You know why. I was offered a judgeship by our state senator.” He gave an impatient wave of his hand. “A man with ambition can’t remain in a place like this.”

  She ignored his dig at Nate’s decision to give up his career to move to Curry.

  “When exactly did you leave?” she pressed. “In 1995?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “The clinic burned down in November 1995.”

  An emotion she couldn’t decipher darkened his eyes before he was slicing his hand through the air.

  “Enough,” Colin snapped. “I need to get dressed and you need to pack.”

  He was starting to turn away and Ellie knew he was closing her out. Even if she stayed and yelled at the top of her lungs, he would ignore her as if she wasn’t there. She’d learned that painful lesson when she was just a child.

  She quickly formulated her next move. She had to force him to listen. Time to pull out the big guns.

  “Barb happened to mention that you owed her money when she asked me to represent her,” she said, fudging the truth.

  She didn’t want him to realize that she’d read Barb’s letters. Not yet.

  Her ploy worked. Even as she held her breath, her father curled his hands into tight fists. With a sharp motion, he pivoted back to face her.

  “Barb had become a pathetic drunk,” he said with a fierce insistence. As if trying to convince her that whatever Barb might have said couldn’t be trusted. “A shame. She was once an efficient secretary.”

  “And loyal?”

  He eyed her with suspicion. Did he suspect she was leading him into a trap? Probably. As a judge, Colin Guthrie had a reputation for detecting lies, no matter how small. And for ruthlessly punishing anyone who tried to deceive him. More than one convict was sitting in jail because they thought they could manipulate her father.

  “I suppose,” he agreed.

  “She implied that it was her loyalty that had earned her a reward that you refused to pay,” Ellie pressed.

  “A reward?”

  “Yes.”

  His jaw tightened. Ellie suspected that he was torn between the logical realization that he should deny any knowledge of Barb’s demands for money, and the fear that the woman might have revealed something she shouldn’t have.

  “And that’s all she said?”

  “It’s difficult to remember.” Ellie offered a tight smile, tossing his own words back in his face. “That was several months ago.”

  “Eloise.” Her father stepped forward, his face hard with an expression she’d never seen before. At least not from him. “Don’t play games with things you don’t understand.”

  Ellie took an instinctive step back, her heart dropping to her toes.

  “You don’t give me any choice,” she whispered.

  He reached out, lightly touching her cheek. “Pack your bags and leave Curry.”

  She met his warning gaze. “And if I don’t?”

  He glanced toward the door of his motel room. “We’ll both pay the price.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nate knocked on Walter’s door for the third time. The older man had to be there. Not because his shiny truck was parked in the driveway; Walter often walked around town. But because Nate could hear the TV blasting from the front room. Walter wouldn’t go off and leave it running. People in Curry were raised to be frugal. No matter how much money they might have, they couldn’t bring themselves to waste electricity.

  When there was no response, he moved to the edge of the porch and jumped to the driveway. Then, ignoring the good manners his mother had instilled in him, he circled the house and opened the narrow gate in the fence. He entered the backyard and paused long enough to peer around the corner of the house.

  He’d miscalculated the danger of a situation once before and nearly died. He wasn’t going to bumble into another one.

  A quick glance revealed a tidy lawn with a large square that was covered with straw at the back. Walter’s vegetable garden. Closer to the house there was a raised patio with furniture that was still draped in tarps, and a metal railing that Walter was spraying with a power washer.

  Nate cautiously moved forward, not wanting to st
artle the older man, but still keeping the element of surprise on his side.

  He’d nearly reached the patio when Walter abruptly turned his head, his eyes widening.

  “Nate,” he growled, reaching over to flick a switch on the power washer, turning it off. “What are you doing here?”

  Nate covertly studied Walter’s faded flannel shirt that he’d tucked into jeans. He couldn’t see any bulges that would indicate the man was armed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a weapon lying around the backyard.

  Leland the barber kept a gun in a drawer with his combs, and the owner of the local diner had a shotgun mounted over his cash register. The Wild West was still alive in this remote area of Oklahoma.

  “We need to talk,” he told the older man.

  Walter dropped the nozzle of the power washer and folded his arms over his chest.

  “If you’re here about Daniel or Mandy, you can just turn around and walk away.”

  There was an undisguised aggression in the man’s voice. Had someone threatened him? Or did he have something in his past that he was trying to hide?

  Maybe it was both.

  Nate lifted his hands in defeat. “Hey, if you’re satisfied with leaving the investigation in the hands of the sheriff, I accept your decision.”

  Walter didn’t look satisfied. No doubt because he realized Nate wasn’t going to stop poking and prying into what had happened to his son.

  “There is nothing to investigate,” he snapped. “The coroner has officially listed their deaths as accidental overdoses.”

  Nate absorbed the information. He didn’t believe for a second that Mandy had overdosed on her own. Which meant someone had deliberately killed her with heroin.

  Why?

  An attempt to make her death look like an accident? A warning? A taunt?

  He gave a sharp shake of his head. It was something he’d have to consider later. Right now, he wanted information from Walter.

  “As I said. If you’re satisfied . . .” Nate allowed his words to trail away with a shrug.

  Walter muttered a curse. “Why are you here?”

  “I have a few questions about an old business of yours.”

  “Business?” The older man lowered his brows. “I never had any business.”

  “The Hopewell Clinic,” Nate clarified. “It was a drug rehab center that was located in the same field where they found both Daniel and Mandy. You were a board member.”

  Walter reached to grab the nearby railing. As if his knees had suddenly gone weak. His expression, however, remained hard with anger.

  “Why the hell do you want to know about that place?”

  Nate had decided on the way to Walter’s house to confront him about the clinic. He wanted to compare notes with what Ellie discovered from her father, since he expected both men to lie. Between the two stories there might be a grain of truth.

  “Barb mentioned the clinic before she died.” He smoothly told his own lie.

  Walter tried to wave aside Nate’s words. “Barb was a drunk. She spent most of her days spouting nonsense.”

  “Not always,” Nate corrected, taking a step forward. “Once upon a time she was a devoted secretary to Colin Guthrie. I believe he was also a board member of the Hopewell Clinic.”

  “So? I’m sure there were a lot of board members.”

  “No. Just five.” Nate held up his hand to tick off the names on his fingers. “You. Colin. Neville Morse. Dr. Booker. And Mayor Chambers.” He paused, as if he was trying to remember what someone had told him. “Oh, and Barb was the secretary.”

  Walter’s hand tightened on the railing. Was he realizing that Nate wasn’t going to be convinced that Barb was nothing more than a babbling idiot?

  “What did the woman say?” he demanded.

  “She implied there was something fishy the night the place burned down,” Nate said, hoping to solidify his suspicion that the fire had been deliberately started. Or that it’d killed someone and they’d covered up the crime.

  Instead, an emotion that might have been relief softened his expression.

  “Places burn.” Walter shrugged. “Nothing fishy about it.”

  “What happened?”

  “Faulty wiring.” Another shrug. “End of story.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “ No.”

  Nate felt a stab of frustration. He’d really thought he was on to something with his assumption that the clinic had been deliberately torched. Or at least that someone had been injured during the fire. But Walter’s casual reaction made him question his theory.

  So, what was the connection between Hopewell and the events of today? And why did they threaten Ellie, who’d been just a young child when the place had burned to the ground?

  “What happened to the clients?” he finally asked.

  “I don’t know.” Walter’s momentary relief disappeared as he scowled at Nate. “I suppose they were sent home. Or maybe they went to other facilities.”

  Nate was surprised by his sharp response. “You didn’t keep records?”

  “Why would I? If you have questions about the place, ask Dr. Booker. He was the one in charge.”

  Hmm. Walter hadn’t been bothered by Nate’s interest in the fire, but he didn’t want to discuss the clients.

  But why?

  Had there been some sort of creative accounting going on? Back then there’d been an epidemic of insurance and Medicaid fraud. The five men might have been creating imaginary clients and charging the government for their housing and medical care. That would explain why Barb had kept the file. If Jane Doe from Omaha had never existed, the paperwork claiming she’d been a patient at the clinic would be a powerful source of blackmail.

  “I intend to talk to the doctor,” he told Walter, his words a warning. “But as the sheriff at the time, you should have known if there was something suspicious happening at the clinic.”

  “There was nothing going on. Like I said, if you have questions, then ask the doctor.”

  “Or one of my friends in the FBI,” Nate said with a humorless smile. “I still have contacts.”

  Walter released his death grip on the railing and turned toward the house as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Nate, however, had seen the fear that darkened his eyes.

  “We’re done,” the older man announced, heading across the patio.

  “I have one more question,” Nate called out. Walter ignored him, pulling open the back door. Nate moved to the edge of the patio, raising his voice to ensure Walter couldn’t pretend he didn’t hear him. “What happened to the mystery child who was found near the highway?”

  The older man released his breath with a loud hiss, jerking around to face Nate. Then, as if realizing he’d revealed more than he intended, he belatedly tried to act as if he was puzzled by the question.

  “What child?”

  Nate hid a smile. Gotcha.

  “It was in the newspaper,” he said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the older man said.

  He did. Nate was absolutely certain of that. Whether the child had anything to do with what was happening in Curry today, was another question.

  “Maybe this will remind you.” Nate dug into his pocket to pull out the copy of the clipping. He walked across the patio to shove it into Walter’s hand.

  With obvious reluctance, the man unfolded the paper to read the short article.

  A muscle knotted in his jaw before he shoved the clipping back to Nate.

  “That was a long time ago,” he said.

  Nate carefully folded it and slid it back into his pocket. “When exactly?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Walter snapped. “Twenty years or so.”

  “That’s a little vague.”

  “That’s all I got.”

  “Who was the child?” Nate demanded.

  “I don’t remember the name.”

  Nate displayed his disbelief with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
/>   “A child is found roaming alone at night and you don’t remember the name?”

  The older man looked like he wanted to take a swing at Nate. He probably did. Not that long ago Walter Perry had been the law in Curry. He could tell people what to do and expect them to obey without question. It had to be hard for him to be in a position where he couldn’t force Nate to go the hell away.

  Or preferably, to shoot him.

  “It happens more often than you think,” Walter said between clenched teeth. “Kids have a habit of sneaking out of doors and windows or climbing over back fences. In this case I believe the grandparents were camping nearby and didn’t even realize the child was missing until the next morning. They were scared out of their minds when they arrived at my office.” He forced a smile. Nate shuddered. It looked weird. The older man’s face looked like it had developed rigor mortis. “Thankfully for all of us, I still had the child there.”

  “Was it a boy or girl?”

  “I think a boy,” Walter said so quickly it was obvious he was just throwing out the words. “I reunited them, and they left the area.”

  It was a convenient story. A lost kid. Distraught grandparents. And then glorious reunion before they drove off into the sunset. It was also impossible to prove or disprove.

  “Did you write up a report?” Nate asked, even though he already knew the answer. “That should have the names of the grandparents as well as the people who found the child.”

  “There’s no report.” Walter abruptly pointed toward the gate at the side of the house. “Now it’s time for you to leave.”

  Nate held the older man’s gaze. “You know I’m not going to stop until I have the truth.”

  He expected another attempt at innocence. Or even anger. Instead Walter backed toward the door, his breath rasping in and out like he was having trouble getting enough air.

  “If you care about Eloise Guthrie, you’ll let this go,” he rasped.

  Nate’s hand instinctively moved to the gun he had holstered beneath his hoodie.

  “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s a warning.”

  Clearly done with the conversation, Walter stomped into the house and slammed the screen door behind him.