Eli waited while Frank Bagley got out and hitched his pants up over an ample belly. Sheriff Frank had held his position in Hawthorne for as long as Eli could remember. The man had to be in his seventies, was full of bluster, and reminded Eli of a rooster strutting around the coop, despite his lack of plumage.
The sheriff removed his cap to scratch his bald pate and nodded at Eli. “I’m sorry about your grandma. Mrs. Croft was a fine woman. I appreciated her years of community service, even though she overstepped her bounds on occasion.”
“Grandma never could get it through her head that men are the natural born leaders.” Somehow Eli managed to keep a straight face as he baited the old chauvinist.
Bagley’s weathered countenance set into even grimmer lines. “Don’t you taunt me, boy. I know you’re one of these proactive upstarts who doesn’t believe in the natural order of things.”
“You got me there, Sheriff. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Your uncle called earlier to see what progress we’d made in our investigation. I stopped by to answer his questions in person.”
“Great. The gang’s all here to discuss arrangements for the memorial, so you can speak to the whole family.”
“I suppose I can do that. I’m certain the womenfolk will be reassured to know we’re not letting any grass grow under our feet when it comes to nailing Mrs. Croft’s killer.”
Eli refrained from rolling his eyes as he led the way up the steps to the portico, opened the front door, and stepped back. “Come on in.”
The sheriff preceded him into the entry, and they followed the murmur of voices to the living room.
Stephen broke off his conversation with Vanna to hurry across the room. “Sheriff Frank, thank you for coming out.” He shook the older man’s hand. “I appreciate the personal attention.”
“It’s the least I can do, considering your loss. I came by to give you an update, not that I can divulge everything about an ongoing investigation, you understand.”
“Of course not, but I’m interested to hear what you can tell me.” Stephen gestured toward the nearest couch. “Have a seat.”
“I’m fine standing.”
After joining Doyle in front of the empty fireplace hearth, Eli spoke in a low voice, “We’ll probably need a shovel to dig through the BS he’s about to sling.”
“Isn’t that the truth. My guess is the local cops haven’t learned squat,” Doyle answered.
“I want you all to know my deputies and I have been working overtime to find Mrs. Croft’s killer.” The sheriff puckered up his mouth like he’d just bitten into something rotten. “But it looks like the state police will be taking over the investigation. If those boys show up asking questions, you’ll need to cooperate with them.”
“I thought Maureen was killed in a robbery attempt.” Katherine was tall and blond, like her husband. Wearing a tailored pantsuit that looked more appropriate for a business meeting than a casual family gathering, she stood near the French doors at the back of the room, undoubtedly to keep an eye on the two boys playing on the back lawn. “Why would the state police get involved if Maureen was shot by some derelict looking to make a quick buck?”
“Apparently, their lead investigator on the case and I have a difference of opinion over motive.” Each word seemed to be wrenched from Bagley’s throat.
“Interesting. What’s the new guy’s theory?” Eli asked.
“Mrs. Croft was a wealthy woman, so of course O’Leary believes money is behind her murder. He’ll be looking into her personal and business finances, which is why I ask for your cooperation.”
“Is that your roundabout way of saying this O’Leary person suspects one of us since we all own shares of Croft Enterprises?” Vanna rose from her seat on the couch next to Webb and pinned Bagley with a dark look. “While he’s wasting time on a wild goose chase, who’s going to be looking for the real killer?”
“Don’t you worry about that, Mrs. Shreve. I intend to follow up on my own leads.”
“What leads would those be?” Eli leaned back against the broad mantel and crossed his arms over his chest. He could almost see the wheels turning in the sheriff’s brain as he searched for an answer.
“Never you mind, son. Rest assured, I’m going to bring this cold-blooded killer to justice.”
“That’s a relief. I’ll sleep easier knowing you’re still on the job.”
At his side, Doyle snorted and choked on a laugh.
Bagley gave him a hard glare before turning to face Stephen. “Now that you’re up to speed, I should get back to work.”
“Of course. Thanks for stopping by, Sheriff Frank.” Stephen walked beside the other man as they headed toward the entry. “We appreciate all your efforts on our behalf.”
The door shut a few moments later.
“As I figured,” Doyle said. “He doesn’t have a clue who shot Maureen.”
“Maybe not, but this out-of-town investigator who has Bagley’s shorts in a knot might be fairly competent,” Eli answered. “I’m glad they brought in some backup.”
“I suppose so. However, it won’t change the fact that Maureen is dead.” Doyle raised his voice. “Can we get busy and plan this damn memorial. I have a client meeting this afternoon with the Red Sox’s new relief pitcher.”
“Of course.” Vanna opened the folder laying in front of her on the coffee table. “We all have places to be. Let’s make a few decisions and be done with it.”
An hour later, most of his relatives had left. After sneaking his grandpa’s shotgun out of the house, Eli stashed it and the ammo in the rear of his car and slammed the trunk closed. Only Katherine’s Lexus remained in the driveway. He’d have to take his chances that neither Stephen’s wife or his boys would have a reason to enter the garage while he was searching for the missing key.
The three-car garage sat at an angle to the house with a covered walkway leading to a side entrance wide enough to accommodate Maureen’s wheelchair. Finding the door locked, Eli ran his fingers along the top of the frame.
“Dammit!”
He didn’t want to go back inside to look for the keys. Studying the row of planters overflowing with pink and purple petunias near the door, he knelt to lift each one and came up empty. Surely there was a key hidden somewhere close by.
“Did you need to get into the garage, Mr. Croft?”
Eli spun around and pressed a hand to his chest. He hadn’t heard the groundskeeper approaching. “Actually, I do. I have a leaky pipe at my cabin and no tools to speak of. I was going to borrow a wrench from my grandpa’s workbench.”
“Let me get the door for you.” Rudy reached into the pocket of his dungarees and pulled out a keyring. After selecting the right key, he unlocked the door. “Help yourself. If you need anything else, I’ll be around back mulching the roses.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure I can find what I’m looking for.”
At least he hoped to hell he could. Entering the cool garage, he shut the door behind him and crossed the concrete pad toward the big white Lincoln Town Car in the center bay. His grandfather’s Range Rover occupied the far side of the cavernous area, and the space at the rear of the garage was set up as a workshop. Eli pictured himself helping his grandpa on his latest automotive project during the long summer days he’d spent at the estate when he was a kid.
Ignoring a sharp jab of pain at the memory, he pulled open the door of the Lincoln. The interior light popped on to dispel the gloom. He’d take the damn car apart if necessary to find the safe deposit box key.
Twenty minutes later, he was forced to admit defeat. After checking every pocket and compartment, he’d removed the floormats and pulled out the back seat. Nothing had been left behind but one of Watson’s chew toys. The key definitely wasn’t in the car.
When his phone rang while he was putting the interior back together, he fished his cell from his pocket. Seeing Jaimee’s name on the display brightened his spirits.
“Hey, is everyth
ing okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, but I was beginning to worry about you.”
“I’m still at the estate. Searching the car was an ordeal, and I came up empty.”
“That sucks. I’d hoped—”
“Yeah, me, too. But I have other interesting news about the case. I’ll go get your clothes from your car and then head home.”
“Make it fast. Getting shot must have shaken me more than I realized. If I hadn’t gone outside with Watson and stuck my hand in my jacket pocket, I never would have remembered.”
“Remembered what?” He shut the car door and headed across the garage. Pausing in the doorway, he squinted against the afternoon sun as he took a quick look around. No one was in sight.
“I found a package notice in the hitman’s truck before he chased me into the woods. I hope to God he hasn’t picked it up yet because I want to beat him to the punch.”
Eli stopped beside his car. “You intend to walk straight up to the counter at the post office and claim his package? Do you think the clerk will give it to you?”
“Not me. You. I sure hope so.”
“If he recognizes me, I’ll make something up. I’m pretty good at that.”
“I bet you are. Don’t bother stopping for my bag. This is far more important.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Damn right. I can’t wait to nail this bastard—and find out who he’s working for.”
Chapter Nine
Despite the discomfort to her ribs, Jaimee sat hunched down in the passenger seat of Eli’s BMW while she kept an eye on the street outside the post office for any sign of the killer. Maybe he’d forgotten about the package notice. Or he had more important things to do and simply hadn’t bothered to pick it up yet. Either way, she didn’t want to be surprised by his sudden appearance under less than optimal circumstances. Because right now, she felt like crap.
When a car backfired somewhere up the street, she let out a cry. Her heart raced, and sweat beaded her brow. Taking a few deep breaths, she warded off the incipient panic attack.
Eli finally appeared in the doorway carrying a large padded envelope under one arm. He looked both ways before running across the street to open the car door.
“Score one for the good guys!” He slid onto the seat and handed her the package. “Piece of cake. I didn’t know the clerk, and I guess he didn’t recognize me wearing dark glasses and a ball cap. Not that everyone is a fan, but—” He stopped speaking and stared at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her nerves settled as she clutched the envelope to her chest. “Just drive.”
He gave her another long look before starting the engine. “Where do you want to go?”
“Head back toward the wooded area where I left my car. We’ll do a little surveillance before going in to pick it up.” After loosening the clear strip of tape sealing the envelope flap, she ripped it open, pleased when her hands barely shook at all.
He made a quick U-turn. “You know we’re breaking a federal law by tampering with someone else’s mail, right?”
“It wouldn’t be the first law I’ve broken. If you’re worried about winding up in jail, I can open this later, when you aren’t around.”
“I thought about the possible consequences while I waited in line for a woman to buy stamps. Now isn’t the time to wuss out.”
“Hardly wussing out. More like being smart. Then again, you aren’t the one this creep shot. It’s a little more personal for me.”
“He killed my grandmother.” His voice sounded tight.
“Sorry.” She reached over to lay a hand on his thigh. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I get so focused on what needs to happen that—”
“Don’t apologize.” He picked up speed as they left town. “If we find something incriminating in the package, we can always bring it to the authorities. The state police were brought in to take charge of the investigation. Sheriff Frank is no longer the lead.”
“That’s excellent news. His replacement can only be an improvement. Hey, take a right into the neighborhood across from the cow pasture up ahead. The road loops around and doesn’t get much traffic. That way we can look at whatever’s in here together.”
Eli did as she suggested and parked in front of an empty lot. He left the engine running. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got. I noticed there was no return address on the envelope, but the postmark is from Washington D.C.”
“Someone was being careful. D.C. is a big place. It’s addressed to Mark Johnson. Pretty generic name.” Jaimee peeked inside. “Looks like documents.” She tilted the contents onto her lap and shuffled through them. “Interesting. A passport, a New York driver’s license, and a social security card.”
Eli opened the passport and pointed to the photo. “Is this the guy who shot you?”
“Yes, but Robert Brown isn’t the name on the envelope. This is some quality work. Not that I’m an expert, but my guess is your average customs agent would be fooled.”
“Someone did an excellent job swapping out the photo. At least I assume this is an alias and not the hitman’s real identity.”
Jaimee tugged a folder from the envelope and opened it. “There’s a history here to go with the ID. There must be hundreds of thousands of Robert Browns in the country, but maybe with the info provided, we—or rather Luna—will be able to locate him.”
“You’re going to call her, not turn all this over to the cops?”
“Let’s see what she can learn first. If we hand the contents over to the authorities, there’s the little matter of explaining how it came into our possession.”
“Good point.” He studied her for a moment. “You don’t seem to be a huge fan of law enforcement.”
“That’s not true. I’m fully supportive of what the police and other agencies do. I also know their limitations. They have to play by the rules.”
“Your buddies in Boston don’t worry about little details like laws?”
“The organization I worked for helps people in trouble, but our methods are a little unorthodox. I can’t say much more.”
He put the car into gear. “Let’s go get your 4Runner.”
Although his tone was neutral, Jaimee wondered if Eli was angry with her. Part of her wanted to come clean, to tell him how she’d worked for years as a highly trained sniper. She’d eliminated more enemy targets than she cared to count on their rescue missions, and her heart ached just thinking about how horrified he’d be if he knew the truth. Not that she regretted her past, but living with the cold, hard facts about what she’d done wasn’t always easy.
“Damn, I think we have company.”
“What?” Eli’s words jerked her out of her morose thoughts. She turned abruptly and sucked in a breath when pain stabbed through her ribs.
“That silver truck riding our tail turned out of your road when we passed.”
“That’s not the assassin’s pickup. It belongs to one of my neighbors.” She narrowed her eyes against the sun’s glare. “Their teenage son is driving. Alex is a reckless idiot behind the wheel.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
She pointed. “The dirt road where I parked is just up ahead.”
When he slowed, the truck following them roared by.
“No, keep going. Once we’re sure no one is lingering in the area, you can drop me off. I’ll walk in on foot.”
“Sounds like a stupid plan to me. If the killer is hiding in the woods, you can’t outrun him with a cracked rib.”
“I wouldn’t even try. I’ll find a vantage point and hang out for a while. I won’t approach my car until I’m certain he’s nowhere in the vicinity.”
“Why can’t I go get your car? Seems like the logical choice since I’m not injured.”
“No offense, Eli, but I’m not a novice when it comes to surveillance. If you’re compromised, he’ll report straight back to whichever of your relatives hired him. Then we’re both screwed.”
His lips tightened as he turned the car around about a half-mile from their destination and pulled to the side of the road. “You have a point, but I still don’t like it.”
“I know you don’t. You’re a guy, genetically programmed to protect the weaker sex. Except I’m not weak, even if I do have a fractured rib.”
“And I’m not as clueless as you obviously think.”
“Is that what you believe?” Her voice rose as she tried to control a rush of irritation. “You’re not stupid. Far from it. But there’s a big difference between natural intelligence and sharp instincts—both of which you have—and professional training. Look, I’m not in the mood to argue, and since no one seems to be around, I’m ready to go get my car.”
“We could simply leave it where it is.”
“I guess so, but then I’d be stuck without transportation. I’m sure you’ll have commitments outside New Hampshire in the not too distant future. You can’t put your life on hold forever.”
“Maybe not. With everything that’s happened, I’m behind schedule, as it is.” He remained silent as he scowled at the empty road. “Fine. If you’re determined, let’s get this over with.”
She reached over to cover his hand where it was clenched around the steering wheel. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“I know you will, but I’m not going back to my place until I’m certain you’re safe. There’s a roadside tavern a couple of miles from here. I’ll park in their lot and wait until you drive by. Call me if you have a problem.”
“I will.” She released her grip on his hand. “Drop me off just before we get to the bend up ahead.”
A minute later, he slowed to a stop, and Jaimee stepped out of the car. With a final wave, she headed into the woods as he drove away. The compression band she was wearing helped some, but her ribs still ached with each step. Ignoring the pain, she quickly made her way through the dense underbrush toward the clearing where she’d left her 4Runner and circled wide around it, pausing every so often to listen. Other than a few birds chirping in the trees, the forest was silent.
Fatal Encounter (A Counterstrike Novel Book 1) Page 10
