Holding the Truth

by Calle J. Brookes

  He took the plate she held out to him and manfully ignored the freckles that covered the top of her chest right above the neckline of that pink shirt. He wanted to kiss those freckles. Every one of them. Badly.

  He forced his attention to the whiteboard instead.

  She'd neatly written everything they knew in bold pink ink.

  Pink again.

  Bailey leaned against the desk, her sandwich in her hand. Bailey ate like a bird most of the time. Half the time he was convinced she existed on Dr. Pepper and peanut M&Ms. He distracted himself with his own sandwich, but that only took him a few minutes. "So what do you have so far?"

  "A timeline, basically. I can see why Kevin Beck couldn't solve this one. Other than a vague 'blond white guy' seen by witnesses, there isn't anything to go on." She pointed to the initial reports. "We need more from the ME on our victims. I can drive up there tomorrow."

  "We'll wait." It was supposed to storm tomorrow. He'd need her in the county to help with anything that cropped up. Barratt County was more prone to flooding than surrounding counties because of the geographical features. "Storms are coming."

  Storms always brought traffic accidents, downed power lines, panicked people. A good portion of his day would be handling the citizens of Barratt County.

  She groaned. "Guess I'll be working the phones with Veri."

  "Maybe. I may have you ride with Jeremy."

  Her eyes showed her surprise. He knew what she was thinking. He'd never let her out on the road before. Not without him, anyway.

  But he’d made himself a resolution to treat her like he'd treat one of his other deputies. He hadn’t meant to be a sexist ass.

  He fully believed women were capable of doing everything men could. He just didn't want Bailey in any situation where she might not be safe. Because it was her.

  "We know the second body was a blonde. ME estimates she was about five and a half feet tall. Around one hundred and fifty pounds. She was an adult, not a teen. That's something to go on. An exact age range should be coming soon."

  "Four of the case files identify the victims as being blond or light brown. The rest haven't determined."

  "All are Caucasian?" They'd limited their search through older cold cases to only Caucasian women, since their body was Caucasian, according to the ME.

  "Yes."

  "Anything else?"

  "Plastic wrap. It was the plastic wrap that stood out the most."

  "What do you mean?" Plastic wrap was an easily available, cheap material. Clay still didn’t grasp why it was so specific.

  "Ours had plastic wrap in the burial site. Enough to indicate that she’d most likely been partially wrapped in it. Three of the cold cases, including Kevin's, had that as well. Deep in the burial sites. This is possibly a serial killer. I just don’t know yet."

  "Specifically plastic wrap? Not just plastic bags?"

  "Not what the forensics departments found. There’s a different composition. Trash bags are thicker than this. Plastic cling wrap is the clear cellophane that’s used in kitchens to wrap leftovers, Clay. Not the thick kind that goes over windows or acts as a paint drop cloth. I think you’re confused. It's clear static plastic wrapping material. Thin grade. Approximately the width easily purchased at any chain discount store." She had a small roll of it right there on the desk. He hadn’t noticed it before. He picked it up and fiddled with it.

  He ate out most nights. His leftovers were kept in Styrofoam containers until he was finished with them.

  It didn’t seem like it would be worth it to wrap it around a body, though.

  Odd. But was it enough to call an actual MO?

  He didn’t know yet.

  He had been thinking of the home improvement material, not the cellophane used to cover leftovers. "So no way to tie it to one person."

  "No. But it doesn't exclude a single person either. This could take months for the forensics labs to analyze." Her frustration was easy to hear.

  "Probably. But now we have an idea where to start. How many of the victims were identified? Can you profile them? And is the plastic cling wrap enough to call a signature?”

  Clay didn’t want to admit it, but if the similarities were already that apparent, Bailey might be on to something. Now they had to solve a cold case involving a damned serial killer.

  "I have four names, spanning twenty years. I've already started looking for similarities." She stepped closer to the whiteboard. Clay stepped up behind her to see what she'd written. "Age, race, geographical location. And all seemed to be victims of opportunity. They also had the same type of plastic cling wrap. It's the most notable similarity between them."

  "Talk to the families. But don't get their hopes up." Clay toyed with the idea of calling in the FBI, but they didn't have much more to go on than dime-store plastic wrap. It was too soon. He would make the call the instant he thought it was a good idea. "Keep on it. I've got a few other angles to work on."

  She nodded. Bailey was standing so close the gold on top of her head tickled his damned chin. Before he knew it, his hands were wrapped around her shoulders, and he was shifting her slightly to the left. Ostensibly so he could see the whiteboard. But he knew the truth. She was in his space.

  He wanted to touch.

  It happened with her every single time. But without the green of her TSP uniform acting as a barrier and that pink acting as a lure, Clay was a goner. Clay pulled his hands back as if her skin scorched him. "I need to go. I'm stopping off on Bracker’s Mill Road to check the bridge on my way back into town. See you tomorrow."

  He left as fast as he could, knowing she was staring at him as he ran like the coward he was.

  Chapter 26

  Celia had had a week to consider what she was going to do about Jake Dillon. She’d originally thought Dina or Mindy would trade with her, but they tended to cover clients in the vicinity of their own homes, just like she wanted for herself. Jake’s place was far too far for them to get to his place easily and still book an additional afternoon client.

  That left only her.

  She could do this. Celia didn’t consider herself a coward. And Jake wasn’t exactly that much of a threat. It wasn’t like she was frightened of him. It was just Cam’s future brother-in-law, that was all.

  That he made her feel a bit defenseless, well...that was probably just because of everything that she knew he probably knew about her.

  Everyone thought they knew about the girl who had been missing for twenty years, after all.

  Or everyone wanted to.

  Maybe she needed to just stop being such a coward.

  She’d just do her job. If things turned weird, she’d either say something to Jake, or she’d discuss it with her supervisor. Tamara was a reasonable woman. It was quite possible she’d understand.

  Celia could deal with one man who made her feel so unsettled.

  Even if she wasn’t his therapist, she had no doubt they’d see each other from time to time. They were going to share a niece or nephew soon, after all. Jake was going to be around.

  And Value was a small town. She was bound to see him, too. No. This was only going to be awkward if she chose to let it be.

  When he called to schedule his next appointment, she confirmed it herself. Told him she would see him in two days. That two days was now up.

  And her hands were dripping sweat on the steering wheel, even though she had the air going full blast.

  What was she so worried about?

  Jake Dillon was just a patient. That was all.

  There were a bunch of cars in the drive when she pulled in this time.

  An older man who looked very much like his son and daughter answered the door. “Hello, sweetie. Jake’s in the living room. Come on in. Have you eaten? We have plenty of sandwiches. I baked a turkey last night. Jake’s big on turkey sandwiches.”

  She knew Bert Dillon slightly. He’d made a point of introducing himself to her in the hospital waiting room while they’d been waiting o
n word about his daughter.

  He’d never held Charlie against her. Not even from that first moment. She’d only seen him a handful of times since.

  She liked Cam’s future father-in-law. And having him around made some of her nerves settle. Some. Not all.

  There was still Jake around to deal with somewhere.

  There was another woman in the kitchen. An older woman Celia vaguely recognized as working for the TSP. The woman was obviously upset about something.

  Her entire body language shouted defensive.

  Celia’s own stomach tightened.

  She’d walked into a few tense situations as a traveling therapist before. Was this going to be one of them?

  She heard the sound of Jake’s wheelchair rolling over hardwood and she turned. He had the baby in his lap, one strong hand braced over the little boy’s stomach to hold him in place. “Veri, good to see you again.”

  Then Jake looked at her. “Celia. I’m running a bit behind. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  “Take your time,” she murmured. She didn’t know what was going on between Veri and Jake’s father, but Jake didn’t even seem aware of it.

  “I just stopped by to get Bailey’s laptop on my way in. The girl forgot it this morning.”

  Jake frowned, as worry slipped over his handsome face. “I wasn’t even awake yet when she left. Or when she got home last night.”

  Veri sighed. “I know. She’s pushing herself too hard.”

  “Bailey’s a big girl. She can handle herself just fine,” Bert said. “She’s on the trail of something, I’m sure.”

  “You’d know, wouldn’t you? Anyway. I’m going to be late myself. Jake, Miss Lake, nice to see you both again. Jake, let me hold that little man for a moment, won’t you? I haven’t seen him since Bailey returned to work.”

  Jake handed over his son without question. He looked at Celia. “I’m ready now. I was just bringing the baby to Dad. Veri, he’s been a bit colicky this morning. Just be forewarned.”

  Chapter 27

  Veri snuggled the baby and tried to gain control of her nerves. Bert usually wasn’t home on Thursdays. She’d not thought anything of it when Bailey had called and asked her to pick up her laptop. Usually, when she’d come to visit the girl, she’d make certain Bert wasn’t there.

  He still made her feel like a messed-up old shoe. Even thirty years after she’d first met him.

  It was hard for her not to be angry with him, even now.

  When he’d first been released from prison six months after his arrest, he’d tried to come to her and apologize for what had happened. He hadn’t meant to break the law back then.

  But then again, she didn’t doubt that he had. Bert had known the laws he’d sworn to uphold. He’d chosen to break one in order to get the information he’d wanted.

  That that information had brought down a serious corruption ring hadn’t mattered much to the judge at the time. Veri suspected that old fart had been on the take, too. He’d given Bert the maximum sentence of a year. Good behavior had gotten Bert out at six months.

  But to get that information back then Bert had betrayed her.

  Veri hadn’t had many men in her life that she’d actually trusted. She had a hard time forgetting that sometimes.

  Bert had been a friend. Or so she’d thought.

  Or the way he had made her feel right after...his divorce had been final.

  He hadn’t exactly sought her out. But their paths had crossed one night on a long, dark highway when her tire had been flat and he’d been out driving, trying to forget all that he’d lost.

  Just that one night, they’d been beyond lonely.

  Bert had been missing his kids. His ex had taken them out of state after they had almost been killed.

  Veri had been missing the husband who had left her for another, prettier, richer, less acerbic woman six months earlier.

  Bert had been a good ten years older and far more world-roughened, even with her working in law enforcement.

  She’d had no business finding herself in that man’s bed.

  Veri had known it the moment they’d finished up their business, so to speak.

  He had been the first man she had slept with since her own divorce. Only the second man in her bed in her entire life.

  And it had just felt...wrong.

  Bert had still been in love with his wife. And Veri had known it the moment she saw the regret in his eyes. She’d had too much self-respect to be some man’s consolation again. She’d learned a valuable lesson that night. One she hadn’t forgotten.

  It hadn’t made it easy to look at Bert again, though.

  She kissed the baby once on his silky black hair and then handed him over to his grandfather. She didn’t meet the green eyes that had faded only a little over the years.

  “See you around, Bert. I’m out of here.”

  Even after all these years, Bert Dillon’s green eyes had her quaking in her boots.

  Veri was such a coward.

  And then she retreated.

  Chapter 28

  She’d talked to Mel instead of Margo that morning. Mel wasn’t exactly a counselor, but she had seemed to seek Bailey out after Bailey had been shot. She’d understood, the other woman had said.

  And she appreciated Mel’s no-nonsense approach to everything. Has Mel still be on the job when Bailey had worked at the Finley Creek branch, she had no doubt she would have liked her.

  She liked all of Kevin Beck’s daughters.

  What she didn’t really like were the big gabfest sessions where they sat in a circle and talked about what had happened lately.

  She didn’t need a support group—she just needed someone besides Bert and Jake to talk to about things that were bothering her.

  Mel was good for that.

  Except for today. The first thing she had asked had been about Clay. No surprise, considering he was her cousin by marriage.

  Bailey had resisted the urge to growl. Since they’d had that first meeting with Elliot Marshall, Clay had been avoiding her. Not just in the physical sense, though he’d done that when he could, too. It was more an emotional distance—unlike even the one that had been between them before.

  He hadn’t wanted to say what he had. She had no difficulty understanding that.

  So Bailey was finding other ways to use her work hours without getting in his way.

  She didn’t need to be distracting him again, after all.

  Mel was waiting for her answer. “I haven’t seen him much lately. We’ve both been busy, but the sheriff seems...fine.”

  “Yeah. Sure, he does. And I’m not asking how your boss is, Bai, but how is Clay? The guy you find attractive, the man so hot for you I’m surprised he hasn’t gone all Barratt on you and dragged you down to a Mexican beach somewhere.”

  Bailey felt the heat flood her cheeks at that.

  One thing about Mel Barratt, the woman could be very, very blunt. “It’s not like that between us.”

  Mel literally rolled her eyes. “Of course, it’s not. Yet. Do you want it to be?”

  She started to say a resounding no. But the word backed up in her throat. Finally, she pulled in a breath and then shook her head. “I have no clue. I’ve never even considered it.”

  Even when she’d been a green newbie first assigned to the Value TSP, she hadn’t let herself think about it.

  Yes, she’d been attracted to him. It had been hard not to be. Back then.

  Now she wasn’t so sure she ever had known what she felt back then. Or even now.

  “The man is the most confusing man I have ever met.”

  “It’s in the Barratt blood—that’s for sure. I spent months all tied up in knots after Houghton...”

  “I just want to do my job, Mel. That’s all. And Clay...he’s making that more difficult then I want to think about. I’m seriously considering transferring to forensics at Finley Creek. I have an offer—an open-ended one—from Elliot Marshall.”

  “Then
you’re good at what you do. Or Elliot wouldn’t have offered. The man’s extra picky with his staff choices. What happens if you take the offer?”

  “I have more of a commute. But I’m not in the center of Value now with the Dillons anyway. I’m away from Clay and the problems he presents. There’s more room for advancement if I work at Finley Creek than if I stay at Value. I don’t want the sheriff’s position—but I don’t want to be a deputy forever. And I enjoy the forensics side of things. I like the people at the lab and I’m familiar with it. I respect the man in charge, and Haldyn is a friend, of sorts. It’s a totally different atmosphere at Finley Creek. One I do like.”

  “And if you stay?” Mel leaned forward a bit. “What are the benefits of staying right where you are?”

  Bailey couldn’t answer that. Not yet. “I don’t know. What I do know is that I have a meeting with your father in twenty minutes regarding old missing persons cases from twenty years ago. And I don’t want to be late.”

  Chapter 29

  Kevin Beck looked a great deal like his daughter and reminded Bailey of Bert Dillon. It was in the way the former TSP detective carried himself and in the way he watched the world around him. She remembered him. Very well.

  He had been the one to put the handcuffs on her father when she'd been a little girl. It had taken her a while to forgive him that. That forgiveness hadn't happened until she'd become a TSP officer herself and fully understood what Kevin and those other TSP officers had faced.

  The corruption within the TSP wasn't necessarily over yet, either.

  She had heard rumors at the Finley Creek post that Chief Marshall was still searching out the corrupt within their organization. It was a hard and long task the man was facing. Not one Bailey wanted any part of.

  But she admired those who did.

  If the TSP couldn’t be depended on to uphold the laws themselves, how could they expect anyone else to?

  "Detective Beck, I'm not certain if you'll remember me."

  "Of course, I do. And Mel called and told me to help you however you needed. How are you, Bailey?" He reached out and shook her hand. The poor man was covered in sweat. There were other men around, too. Cowboys hard at work. Lacy Deane's husband owned the ranch, and she easily spotted him. He also owned the building where W4HAV was located. She’d spoken to him before.