Conard County Justice (Conard County: The Next Generation Book 42)

by Rachel Lee

  “That’s what I’m gathering, little as it is. It’s thin intel, but I’m going to assume my conclusions are true. Safest thing to do.”

  The gloom was deepening, both in the outside world and among the men. What had looked like a relatively easy mission had descended steadily into a chaotic mess. They’d seen that on the battlefield, but they hadn’t expected it here.

  “I hope,” said the second man, “that this crap is as important as someone seems to think.”

  “I hope,” said the third guy, “that you want the money enough to shut up and do whatever’s necessary.”

  “Hell, yeah,” said the second man. “But who’s taking the risk out here?”

  Good question. But it was always that way. The grunts did the real work while too many of the candy-ass brass sat at computers and desks.

  The first man poured himself coffee in the collapsible tin cup he carried nearly everywhere. It would cool down soon, but at least it was real coffee.

  “Thing is,” he said, “if I was sure the only person involved back there is the one who hired us, I might kill him. But I don’t know that there aren’t others.”

  “Too bad how much we don’t know,” muttered the second guy.

  “I don’t think whoever he is knew. I think he thought we’d get to Larry Duke and that would be the end of it. I got the impression he’s not happy that we had to kill Duke. Not at all. It’s a mess, all right.”

  But there was no point in beating that horse to death. They all agreed on that, so silence returned as they listened to the wind whisper.

  * * *

  THE HODGESES HAD been nice. They let Duke and Cat inside, showed them the scene and explained in detail everything that was missing. From a wide-screen TV to a computer, electronics appeared to have been the target.

  What had interested Cat most was Duke’s prowl outside the Hodges house. He’d studied the privacy-fenced backyard, the door that had been jimmied, the bottom edges of windows that had not. He’d been interested in looking through those windows, too.

  “Did you learn anything?” she asked as they walked home.

  “I may have. Can’t be sure.”

  “Quit being inscrutable and share.”

  Mark Hodges’s only connection with Larry had been playing darts with him a few times at Mahoney’s. On the surface this robbery didn’t appear to be related in any way to Larry’s murder.

  On the surface. She wondered if, during his inspection of the property, Duke had noticed something that other eyes might have missed.

  “Let’s go to Mahoney’s,” he said. “If you don’t mind. When we went there together, I got the feeling a few of those guys wanted to talk to me.”

  “I got the same feeling. Let’s go.”

  Mahoney’s was in full swing for a weeknight. Not as packed as on a weekend but packed enough. Laughter had grown louder as the beer did its work. Two guys played darts; another four gathered around the pool table in the back room. Friendly enjoyment permeated the place.

  This time Duke took a table. Cat noticed that he maneuvered himself in a way that kept his back against a wall. Interesting.

  Duke went over to the bar and snagged a longneck for Cat and a draft for himself. It wasn’t long after he sat again that a man came over to him and shook his hand before accepting an invitation to sit with them. Duke didn’t move, his chair still positioned to keep his back to the wall.

  “I’m Frank Ludlow,” the guy said. “I enjoyed Larry’s company. You never saw anyone get accepted around here as fast as he did. People barely met him before they liked him and decided he was okay.”

  Duke spoke. “A talent for a journalist, to be able to do that.”

  “Well, he seemed to do it naturally. You never got the feeling it was an act.”

  “It wasn’t. That was just Larry.”

  Frank nodded. “That I can believe. He sure livened this place up. Not that it’s ever dull, but when he’d play darts with some of us, he gathered a whole group to watch. He could always tell a good joke or a good story. Everyone was glad to see him walk in.”

  “Did he ever mention what he was working on?”

  “A book. That seemed reasonable, given that he was a reporter. I don’t think anyone asked more about it.”

  Cat spoke. “Did he ever seem to be questioning anyone?”

  “If he was, no one mentioned it. Why? You think that could be a clue?”

  “I don’t know,” Cat admitted. “I’m looking everywhere and anywhere that might help.”

  “I can help,” Frank said. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone noticed anything. I’ll let you know.”

  That was a step in the right direction. It sometimes amazed her how much people knew that they didn’t realize they knew. Little things, occasionally very useful.

  “Mind if we stay for a second beer?” Duke asked her.

  “Not at all. That may have been productive. If someone else wants to meet you, I’m up for it.”

  After a little while, he went to get more beer for them. He also came back with a bowl of nuts to share.

  When he settled again, she noted the restless roving of his eyes, as if he were trying to take in every little detail. Or maybe to memorize faces. She could have asked him, but she didn’t. It just didn’t seem important enough.

  “Did something grab you at the Hodges place?”

  His gaze snapped back to her. “Only that it was an easy place to rob. Big privacy fence, windows low enough to peer into rooms, a door latch that could have been opened with a credit card. Not exactly much security.”

  “Not something you need a whole lot of around here. Is that important?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, it was easy enough to get in there unseen, so that argues for kids again. Or it just may have been easy.”

  She curved one corner of her mouth. “All that uncertainty you mentioned.”

  “It sure didn’t clarify the matter. It wouldn’t have required any real skill to carry that burglary off.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Actually, yeah. The idea that Larry’s story might have triggered someone in the Army? I could be targeted, too.”

  Shock rippled through her, icy and electric. “But no one could know you were coming out here.”

  “Really?” He arched a brow. “I took leave. Who wouldn’t have guessed that I was going to show up here right after my brother was murdered? Only someone who didn’t know we were brothers.”

  “But...”

  “What if I’m the rat they suspect?”

  Cat settled back in her chair, turning the cold bottle in her hands, feeling stupid for not having put that together herself. “Damn, Duke.”

  “Yeah.”

  She looked up from the bottle, noticed he had leaned forward, surrounding his draft glass with powerful forearms. “Is that why your back is against the wall?”

  “You noticed.”

  “I’m not completely dumb. Yeah, I noticed.”

  “I don’t think you’re dumb at all. Why would you think so?”

  Cat sighed. “Because I didn’t make the connection you just did. It’s not like you didn’t give me all the pieces.”

  “Maybe I assembled them differently. I’m used to having to consider things in terms of threat. No reason you should be.”

  “It’s my job, in a way.”

  “No, getting a solution is your job. Not planning for off-the-wall threats.”

  Duke had a point. She sipped more of her beer, seeing the bar in a different light. He hadn’t just been taking mental snapshots. Maybe he was looking for something out of place.

  She looked around, really looked, for the first time. “I know all these people. Regulars.”

  “Thanks for telling me.”

  She hoped he could relax a bit with that infor
mation. Not that she was sure she’d ever seen him truly relaxed. All she knew was that he sometimes seemed less tense.

  A couple of other patrons came over to shake his hand and express their sympathy, but neither of them knew Larry, or even what he’d been working on.

  “I hope Frank can find out something,” Cat said later, while they walked home.

  Agreement seemed to radiate from him.

  That night, for the first time, she checked all the windows and doors to make sure they were locked. Remembering what he had said about looking into windows, she closed all the curtains. Then she considered upgrading her locks the next day.

  She didn’t like the feeling. She’d gotten used to the mostly bucolic life around here. Yeah, bad things happened, but usually on such a limited scale that folks around here didn’t live in constant fear.

  That might be changing for her, for a while.

  * * *

  ALONE ONCE AGAIN in his bedroom, Duke stared out at the night. It was possible that someone was watching him right now. Standing out there in the dark, out of sight, eyes on.

  He didn’t feel watched, however, and he had a deep trust for that instinct. It had served him well more times than he could remember.

  He remembered Cat’s reaction to him saying he might be a target. She shouldn’t have felt stupid for not thinking of it. He hadn’t exactly leaped to the conclusion himself. It sounded a little weird when he said it out loud. Over-the-top.

  But given what had happened, and his suspicions, it really wasn’t over-the-top. Not at all. He knew the kind of people he was dealing with, what they might consider doing to protect their careers and their reputations.

  A few men went to war and came back killers. Even developed a taste for it. Most had a harder time with guilt and memory.

  As a man had once said, “War is an atrocity-making situation.”

  Hell, yeah. Dealing with it afterward was rarely easy.

  But then there were those who liked it. Psychopaths, or whatever they were called these days.

  Regardless, if war unleashed psychopaths, then there were psychopaths inside the command structure. Someone who’d be willing to order Larry killed. Someone who’d be willing to order Duke’s death. Someone who wouldn’t care but felt he’d gain from it.

  Hell. He pulled the curtains closed. He wanted to escape this obsession for a little while. He considered taking a long run, then decided against it. He needed distraction, not the rush of endorphins through his system.

  Leaving the bedroom, he padded down the hall in his stocking feet, which felt exposed to him. Boots on was every infantryman’s rule. Boots could help you run over dangerous ground and protect your feet.

  But walking around in boots might disturb Cat, and he didn’t want to do that.

  In the kitchen, he started coffee. Checking the bakery bag on the counter, he found more Danish. Probably a little stale by now, but still edible. He placed one on a plate, then joined it with steaming coffee. Such luxuries.

  Now that his initial shock was passing, memories of Larry were resurfacing. They were all good memories, and they could still make him smile. Even when his chest ached so bad he thought he might not be able to draw another breath. God, it hurt.

  He knew he was trying to avoid it, but this grief was apt to kill him. Larry had been an essential part of his life even when distance and time had separated them.

  He felt as if he was about to bury half of himself. The best part. And he knew he was going to miss Larry’s voice and grin forever.

  Sunny days playing baseball. Long, lazy summers during school breaks when Mom had always promised they were going to do exciting things. Inevitably, the planned day trips didn’t last long, whether because she quickly wore out or the budget wouldn’t support it. It didn’t matter to either him or Larry.

  Instead they’d had the hills near the house. Trees to climb in, forts to build, fish to catch and a river to swim in. In the winter, endless hours were spent skating on the frozen river and trying to master the art of building an igloo or playing hockey with friends.

  Duke heard a sound and twisted to see Cat shuffling into the kitchen. She wore a bright blue terry-cloth robe over pajamas.

  “Did I wake you?” he immediately asked.

  “You might have if I’d been asleep.”

  “You, too?”

  “Some nights are harder than others.” She poured herself coffee, then peeked into the pastry bag. “You want this?”

  “Help yourself. Just a little stale.”

  “A shame to let that happen to Melinda’s baking.”

  Coffee and Danish in hand, she returned to the table. “What’s keeping you up?”

  “I was just thinking about Larry. Memories of good times.”

  Cat smiled at him, a soft expression. He liked it when she smiled, but this one was special somehow. Like a warm connection.

  “Care to share?” she asked.

  “Not sure what to tell you. I’m kind of having a collage of memories—golden moments, if you will. Snapshots. We were close, almost like twins.”

  “God, that must hurt.”

  “It does.” No point minimizing it. Since she’d joined him, the steel band around his chest had loosened a bit, but it was still there, restricting his breathing.

  He continued, thinking she might like to hear a little about Larry the kid. She’d known him, after all. “We were best buddies all the way up until we separated for college. Me to the military academy, him to another college.”

  “Wait,” she interrupted. “You went to West Point?”

  “Sure did.”

  Wow, she thought, impressed. Then, “I’m sorry I interrupted your memories of Larry.”

  “No problem. They’re coming as they come. Like a river that’s determined to flow, but not always rapidly. Tonight, like I said, it’s random snapshots. A hazy recollection of golden days. I don’t know about your childhood, but ours was mostly great. Having Larry there made it even better.”

  “A built-in playmate.”

  “You bet. Best friend. We liked to camp in the backyard when we were in elementary school. It was like a huge adventure to be out there alone in a tent with night all around. We loved the flashlights. I bet our parents got sick of buying batteries.” He felt a smile crease his face. “Sometimes they really indulged us, allowing us to camp out for a couple of days. My dad even built a firepit, but we could only use it when he was there to keep an eye on us. We roasted marshmallows and hot dogs and felt so freaking special. Many times, neighborhood kids joined us.”

  “That sounds really delightful.”

  His smile widened a shade. “I’ll never forget the smell of the smoke that somehow always came my way. Or the racket of the crickets chirping when it grew quiet. The sound of frogs in nearby water. Catching minnows with a net, then setting them free. Pollywogs fascinated us when they started to grow their frog legs. An amazing transformation even after we knew why it was happening.”

  “It does sound wonderful,” she murmured, enjoying the way all the hard edges seemed to leave his face as he remembered.

  “Maybe the memories have been enhanced by time. I don’t care. I’ll keep them the way they are now.”

  “I’ll second that.”

  He regarded her as he finished his Danish. She’d barely picked at hers. He was sure, despite her denial, that hearing him stirring had dragged her out of sleep. He’d worried her by telling her he might be a target. He’d noticed how she’d checked all the windows and doors and closed all the curtains.

  He asked, “What are you worried about? Me telling you that I might be a target?”

  Her attention snapped to him. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

  “Neither am I.”

  “Okay.” She stared down at her plate, at her barely touched pastry. “Belief
is a dangerous thing sometimes. Best not to ignore the possibility, though.”

  He agreed, but he didn’t want to press the issue. She had enough to concern her without worrying about him. He sought to give her a bit of reassurance. “I’m a hard guy to kill.”

  “That’s patently obvious. You’re sitting across from me and, given your job, being here is an achievement.”

  “It shouldn’t be, but I guess it is.” Unable to stop himself, he reached across the table to take her hand. His heart stuttered when her fingers wrapped around his and tightened.

  There was such fatigue and sorrow on her face. He felt bad for bringing all this to her door. His brother’s murder clearly concerned her, and she would have worked as long and hard as it took to solve it even without him. But he’d added to her concerns.

  He spoke. “I’m sorry I’ve made this case harder on you.”

  She made a slight negative movement with her head. “It would have been hard anyway.”

  “But the sheriff was keeping you out of it until I arrived.”

  Her eyes grew fierce. “I wanted to be on this case. It wouldn’t have been long before I’d have demanded it. Yeah, I knew Larry, but I didn’t know him well enough to lose my objectivity. Don’t blame yourself for that.”

  His brow creased as anger with himself began to grow. “Then I showed up, looking like trouble. You had to run around to try to prevent me from going ballistic all over the county.”

  At that, a small laugh escaped her. “It hasn’t been that difficult.”

  “Because you were willing to work with me. But I’ll be honest. Much as I hate to admit it, when I arrived here I did want to tear a few people apart. Obviously, I didn’t know who.”

  She raised a brow. “Do you still want to?”

  “Tear someone apart? Sometimes, but the urge isn’t as strong as when I arrived here. I think you’d be safe not worrying about that.”

  She squeezed his hand again, then withdrew hers. He regretted the absence of her touch immediately. Damn, he was starting to get tangled up between grief, anger and the pull he felt toward Cat.

  She nibbled some more at her Danish, then brought the coffeepot to the table, refilling both their mugs. “We might have made some real strides today,” she remarked.