Fatal Exposure

by Gail Barrett

  Thoroughly disgusted at his behavior, he speared his hand through his hair. He’d nearly screwed up, all right. But now he had an even bigger problem on his hands. He’d seen that photo of Brynn on the file cabinet, the one she’d taken pains to hide. And Ruth Gibson was nobody’s fool. The next time she looked at her file cabinet, she’d link that photo to Brynn. Then she’d notify Hoffman that his long-lost stepdaughter had been nosing around the camp with a man fitting Parker’s description, asking questions about the dead girl’s case—the case Hoffman had warned him to leave alone.

  And Parker could kiss his job goodbye.

  Searching for a way to contain the damage, he put the tuna fish sandwiches he’d made on the table, then added napkins and plates. Maybe he could spin his involvement with Brynn, pretend he was following Hoffman’s orders and trying to earn her trust. That might mollify the Colonel, buying him enough time to investigate this case.

  Assuming Brynn didn’t catch on first.

  He glanced at the door to the downstairs bathroom, the sound of running water signaling that she was still busy freshening up. Deciding he had to chance it, he took out his cell phone and punched in Hoffman’s number. The administrative assistant answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Debbie. This is Detective McCall,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Is the Colonel in? He’s expecting my call.”

  The assistant put him on hold just as the bathroom tap cut off. Not wanting Brynn to hear him, he strode down the hall to the guest bedroom and shut the door.

  “Hoffman here,” the C.I.D. chief said a second later.

  “I found your daughter.”

  A pause pulsed over the line. “Already? Good work.” Pleasure suffused his voice. “I knew I could count on you.”

  “But I can’t bring her in yet,” Parker added quickly.

  “Why not?”

  “She doesn’t trust me yet. I need more time.”

  “How much time?” Hoffman sounded annoyed now, and Parker winced. His boss wasn’t a patient man.

  “Not much. A few days at most. She’s still nervous. If I make a move now, she’ll bolt.”

  Hoffman didn’t answer at first. “Two days,” he finally said. “I want her in custody by then. If she won’t come in freely, we’ll haul her in for questioning for your brother’s death. But I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “You’d better. And Parker...” Hoffman paused. “Watch out. She’s clever. She’ll play on your sympathies and twist the truth until you don’t know what to think. Make sure you don’t fall for her act.” He disconnected the line.

  Parker slipped his phone back into his pocket, suddenly besieged by doubts. Was Brynn manipulating him? Was she doing exactly what Hoffman had warned him about and playing him for her own ends? Or was the Colonel lying to him?

  Even more unsettled, he strode back into the kitchen. Brynn stood at the counter, holding her camera, and she raised her gaze to his. And that quick lurch of attraction tripped through him, that inevitable surge of adrenaline that knocked his pulse off course. His belly went taut, his breath quickening.

  And damned if he didn’t feel guilty, as if he’d betrayed her somehow.

  But that was ridiculous. He didn’t owe her a blasted thing. So what if her talent intrigued him? So what if her uncommon beauty provoked instincts hard to resist? He was a cop, a professional. He knew better than to let his hormones rule his head. And his duty was clear—rule out foul play in that young girl’s death, get Brynn to fulfill her part of their agreement and then hand her over to her stepfather and be done with her for good.

  No matter how much she tempted him.

  He motioned toward the kitchen table. “I made some sandwiches. Help yourself if you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks.” Her gaze skidded away. A blush tinged her cheeks, more proof that she felt this reckless pull. But she seemed determined to resist it, which was good. Because when she found out he worked for her stepfather...

  She sank into her seat and set down her camera, then took her laptop from her bag. “I’ll transfer those photos to my computer while we eat. We lucked out with their camera. It uses the same kind of memory card mine does.” She inserted the memory card into her camera and got to work, still not quite meeting his gaze.

  Needing a distraction, he took the seat across the table and devoured half of his sandwich in a few quick bites. Then he uploaded the photos he’d taken to his own tablet computer and turned his focus to finding clues.

  He examined the camp’s map first. The grounds were bigger than he’d expected, sprawling for several hundred acres over South Mountain where it merged with the Catoctin range. The main cabins were near the office. They consisted of half a dozen buildings clustered around a central dining hall. Trails fanned out from the compound, meandering through the hills like crooked spokes. One path led to a river, where kayaks and canoes were stored. Another went to a rock climbing area and zip line course. The bulk of the trails ended at a lake, where there was a fishing dock, beach, several rustic campsites and a shower house.

  The old Forest Service lookout tower where Erin Walker had died was in the opposite direction, near the southern perimeter of the camp. Next to it was an abandoned farmhouse. A faint line connected the farmhouse to the nearest road.

  Parker frowned. “Look at this.” He angled the tablet so Brynn could see. “There used to be a road to this farmhouse. If it’s still there, you can enter the camp near the lookout tower.”

  “Is that important?”

  “Possibly. A couple things have been bugging me about this case. One is why Erin went to the tower. It’s not near her cabin. And it was dark. Why would she hike that distance through the woods at night alone?”

  “We don’t know that she was alone.”

  “True.” Although the absence of other footprints would suggest as much. “Either way, it’s quite a trek. The other question is where she got the drugs. The autopsy said she had meth in her system. So she either brought it in herself—”

  “No.” Brynn sounded sure. “The staff would have searched their bags. They’d want to make sure the kids weren’t smuggling in alcohol or drugs.”

  “Then someone else brought it in.” But who? “We know she ended up at the tower. So maybe she met her drug supplier near there. That gives her a reason to make that hike.”

  Brynn studied the map, her eyes reflecting her doubt. “You’re right about the distance, though. That’s a long hike in the dark. And she had to cross that creek. I wonder if there’s a bridge somewhere.”

  “It isn’t on the map.” Curious now, he rose and retrieved Erin’s file, then took his seat again. He skimmed the autopsy report, pausing on the description of her clothes. “Her shoes and socks were wet. So she probably waded through the creek.”

  Brynn looked even more skeptical now. “She was twelve years old. Those woods would be scary at night. And then to wade across a creek with the water all black and cold?” She shook her head. “I don’t see it.”

  “She was on meth. She probably felt invincible. That could explain why she climbed that tower.”

  “Maybe.” Brynn didn’t sound convinced. “But I still can’t see her going all that way alone.”

  “You think another kid went with her?”

  She hesitated, her gold-flecked eyes reflecting her doubt. “Or someone chased her there.”

  That made even less sense. “If she was in danger, why would she run away from help? Why not go to the counselors’ cabin and find an adult?”

  “Maybe one of the adults was chasing her.”

  Parker arched a brow. “That’s quite a leap.” And they didn’t have a shred of proof. Still, something compelling had convinced Erin Walker to make that trek. “Let’s gather the evidence first, then start drawing conclusions.”

  Determined to follow his own advice, he returned his attention to his computer, bringing up the cabin assignments this time. He listed
the campers’ names in a separate document, highlighting the kids in Erin’s cabin. Not that it did much good. He couldn’t interrogate those kids without their parents’ consent—and alerting his boss.

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “Any luck with the photos?”

  “Not yet. There are thousands of pictures on this card. I’ve skipped ahead to the ones taken around the day she died.”

  Taking sips of water, she continued studying the screen. He watched her drink, the erotic lilt of her lush lips like a cattle prod on his nerves. He took in the high, sweet curves of her breasts, the graceful line of her throat. And the urge to plunge his hands through her fiery hair, to plunder the heaven of her moist lips, nearly did him in.

  Dangerous thoughts, he warned himself. He had to resist Brynn Elliot, not fantasize about how good she’d make him feel. Now if he could just convince his body of that...

  “Here, take a look.” She turned her computer toward him, and he forced his attention to the screen. The photos were what he’d expected—kids clowning around and doing the usual camp activities, such as swimming and pitching tents. His interest lagged until she brought up several shots that included adults—the director, counselors. His boss. There were several shots of Hoffman playing football with the kids, which made sense. He’d been a high school football star.

  Brynn paused on a picture of the campers roasting marshmallows over a campfire. Hoffman was there, sitting beside a skinny, preteen girl with a long black ponytail. The scene looked ordinary enough...except his knee rested against her thigh. He sat so close that their shoulders touched. And she was clearly trying to lean away, her legs curled up in a fetal position, her face averted from his.

  A funny feeling took hold in Parker’s gut, and he glanced at Brynn. She stared at the screen, her face suddenly pale, her fingertips pressed to her mouth, as if she was trying not to get sick.

  She dragged her gaze to his, the horror in her eyes catching him off guard. Her reaction seemed way out of proportion to seeing a photo of her estranged stepfather sitting beside a child. Unless...

  “You’re not saying...” He could hardly voice the thought, it disgusted him so much. “You don’t think Hoffman and that child...”

  Brynn didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The revulsion in her eyes said it all.

  She believed Hoffman was a pedophile, that he’d sexually molested this kid.

  Stunned, Parker jerked his gaze away. A pedophile? Was she nuts? The Colonel was everyone’s role model, the most upstanding man he knew. And he’d warned Parker not to believe her. Brynn had a history of making false accusations against him. But the horror in her eyes looked real.

  And sometimes even the wildest allegations proved true.

  His emotions in total upheaval, he stared at the screen as Brynn scrolled through several more shots—Erin paddling a canoe, erecting a tent with the black-haired girl. She was smiling at the camera and looked content.

  Then another shot filled the screen, this one of Erin Walker standing beside the lake, the Colonel at her side. He had his arm slung over her shoulders, an easy smile on his face. Erin was dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, clutching a towel to her scrawny frame. She looked ready to cry.

  Parker’s heart sank. Oh, hell. This did not look good.

  “The date is July 14, two days before she died,” Brynn said. She zoomed in on the doomed child’s face. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but her mouth wobbled down at the corners. She had the necklace on.

  Parker stared at the screen. Disgust warred with dread in his gut. “You think Hoffman is abusing these kids. You think he caused Erin Walker’s death.”

  “I think there’s a good chance, yeah.”

  Parker pushed away from the table, then paced around his kitchen, too agitated to stay in his seat. A murder at the camp would be scandalous enough. But sexual abuse... This was huge, explosive—and not just because Hoffman was a cop. Not even because he was the head of C.I.D., a man with formidable power. Hoffman was the protégé of an influential senator. Various politicians had stakes in his success. The repercussions would ripple up through the highest circles, destroying families and careers.

  He met Brynn’s eyes, knowing she was wondering how he’d react. But what should he think? He’d read her file. She had a history of inventing tales.

  But what if her stories are true? What if no one had believed her back then? Could the system have screwed up that much?

  He wanted to believe her. She came across as sincere. But he had a weak spot when it came to Brynn. And the Colonel was a model citizen with a stellar reputation, a paragon in the community.

  Just like Parker’s father.

  And look how corrupt he’d been.

  “If she was abused, then how come she didn’t report it?” he asked. “It’s not as if there’s no one there to talk to. There are counselors all over that camp.”

  “Fear. Shame. Maybe he told her no one would believe her, or worse, that they’d say it was all her fault.”

  Still not convinced, he shook his head. “Why didn’t the counselors notice something was wrong? They’re sensitive to that these days, especially if they work with kids. They’re trained to spot the signs.”

  “They see what they want to see, especially if the guy has power.”

  Was that true? Parker leaned back against the sink, trying to keep an open mind. Would the staff overlook a pedophile if he was important enough? He had to admit Hoffman fit the profile. Pedophiles often coached and ran camps to have access to their target kids.

  But to prey on children that young... His belly churned. He couldn’t stand to think it. A predator like that was a total slime bag, the lowest of the low. And if Hoffman had taken advantage of that poor child’s addictions to molest her...how much worse could he get?

  Brynn rose and joined him at the sink. “You don’t believe he abused her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You mean you don’t want to know.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “You didn’t have to. He’s a cop. He’s so high up he’s out of reach. He can do whatever he wants, and no one gives a damn, no matter who his victims are.”

  Parker’s jaw went hard, the accusation hitting too close to home. His father had been above the law—or so he’d thought. “That’s not true.”

  “Right.” She scoffed in disbelief.

  His own temper flared, her poor opinion of the police force rankling him. “Listen, Brynn. I don’t care who he is, whether he’s the head of C.I.D. or some derelict on the street. If he’s guilty, I’m going to find out. But I have to follow the law. I can’t accuse him without proof.”

  “Proof?” Incredulity rang in her voice. “You saw that photo.”

  “It isn’t enough. It’s not,” he continued when she opened her mouth to argue. “I agree that it looks bad. And I’m willing to investigate. But an accusation like this could destroy his life. I can’t do that to him until I’m sure.”

  Her eyes flashed. She propped her fists on her hips. “And what about the children he’s destroyed? Don’t you care that he ruined their lives?”

  “Of course I do.” The thought of a helpless child suffering such depravity made him ill. “But I still have to have some proof.”

  Knowing he hadn’t convinced her, he shoved his hand through his hair. “Listen. My dad was the perfect father. He coached Little League and soccer. He led my Cub Scout troop. He was a cop, a hero. Everyone thought he was great, especially us—until the news came out that he had this whole police bribery thing going on.”

  She went still. “You’re saying he wasn’t guilty?”

  “No. He was guilty as hell. There wasn’t any doubt. And when he realized he couldn’t hide it...” He inhaled, anger and sorrow churning through him, even now. “He ate his gun. He took the coward’s way out, leaving me to deal with the mess.”

  She pressed her hand to her throat. “You’re not saying... You didn’t find him?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah.” He closed his eyes, struggling to block out the memory of the gore. “I heard the shot and went inside the house.”

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Parker. I didn’t know.”

  “Tommy never told you?”

  Her eyes still huge, she shook her head.

  “The point is that it ruined our lives. My mom just shriveled up. Her mind went AWOL overnight. She died soon after that. And you saw what happened to Tommy. He’d been using drugs before, but the suicide pushed him over the edge. He got hooked and ran away.”

  “And you?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

  “I dealt with it.”

  “It couldn’t have been easy.”

  “No.” They had been the worst years of his life—his mother in full retreat, his brother determined to self-destruct, Parker’s integrity under fire at work. “But I know what it feels like to have your world fall apart. I know what an accusation like this can do—not just to the person who’s accused, but to everyone around him. And I can’t inflict that on anyone until I’m sure.”

  Her gaze held his, the sympathy in her eyes reeling him in. And a sudden longing whispered through him, the temptation to tug her close, to bask in her comfort and warmth and feel that he wasn’t alone.

  She reached up and stroked his jaw, the slight touch jump-starting his pulse. And another emotion washed through him, a need so sharp it stole his breath. He grabbed her wrist, stilling her hand, keeping her soft, delicate fingers trapped against his jaw.

  His heart tapped a ragged beat. Sudden heat thickened his blood. And, without warning, far more than sympathy crackled between them. That hunger simmering beneath the surface exploded to life, too potent to ignore.

  His gaze fell to her mouth. She moistened her lips with her tongue, sending a swift shaft of heat arrowing straight to his groin. His body went taut, the insistent urge to touch her flaying his blood. He wanted to inhale her arresting scent, make her breath turn jagged and fast, feel her bare skin slick against his.

  Unable to resist, he pulled her against him.

  “This is a bad idea,” she whispered, her gaze fastened on his mouth.

  “Really bad.” But then why did it feel like the only thing he’d done right in a long, long time?