by Evans, Misty
“Yes, well, luckily the farm is in both of our names, so I can continue operations and build the business without him.”
She sounded quite cheered by that thought.
Hmmm…
Melanie hung a couple of blouses in the cheap armoire between the beds. Tucked some socks in a drawer. “All I ask, Roanna, is that you lay low and don’t stir up strife. Everyone’s upset enough as it is.”
“Stir up strife?”
“You don’t really fit here.” She closed the armoire and picked up a clean towel from her stash to fold it. “Asking a lot of questions and nosing around makes people uncomfortable and they’re already quite wary of you. I know it’s just your manner, but you do question everything. Now might not be the best time to put people on the spot about Adam or Lance.”
So much for being nice to everybody. It was everything Ronni could do not to get in Melanie’s face. Kristine had been murdered. Adam was being set up. And Miss Melanie wanted Ronni to leave.
Ronni tamped down her anger. “Anita told me no one here was allowed to have sex except Adam.”
Melanie nearly dropped a towel. “Anita misspoke. Of course, Adam preferred sexual relations be kept discreet, and that relationships not interfere with our mission, but there’s no rule against sex.”
“Adam told the police he’d never slept with Kristine.”
Melanie waved off the idea. “Nonsense. Of course they slept together. Why do you think he let her live here in the house? After his anointment, he planned to make her a sacred wife.”
Like Daniel had with Danielle. “If she was infertile, and he wanted children, why did he pick her to be a sacred wife?”
“You really do ask too many questions.” Melanie gave an exasperated sigh and set her hands on her hips. “God told Adam that Kristine would be the first to bear him a child.”
God had told Adam? Or someone else had put the idea into Adam’s subconscious when he was delusional? “How often does Adam go off his meds?”
“What? Oh, um, rarely.” She dropped her hands, began putting sheets on her bed. “He’s religious—pardon the pun—about taking them.”
“Who’s his doctor? I should notify him or her about Adam’s condition.”
“He sees Dr. Elgin. And I believe everyone here knows what happened today.”
“So he gets the drugs illegally.”
Melanie snapped the end of a fitted sheet over a corner of the bed. “See, there it is again. You’re acting like an FBI agent, rather than a concerned sister. Which is it, Roanna?”
Both. Sensing the conversation was over, Ronni headed for the door. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll see you later.”
“It’s nearly ten o’clock.”
“Don’t wait up, then.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere in particular. I just need to clear my head.”
“Be careful out there.”
Ronni turned back. “Why? The murderer’s been caught, right?”
Melanie frowned and Ronni left.
She started for the honey house, wanting to look for the hidden path behind it, but it was dark, and she didn’t want to run into Jacob. Instead, she wandered toward the house, just to see if he appeared.
She found Thomas instead. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he said with a smirk.
“What are you doing here?”
The police tape flapped every time a breeze lifted it. The skies were clear and the moon turned the tape a sickly grey.
“Waiting for you. I figured you’d want to see the crime scene.”
“I do, and I want to see that path, but I had to have a powwow with my new roomie. She’s none too happy I’m staying here.”
“Melanie?”
“She wants me to leave. Says I’m making people uncomfortable.”
“She want me to leave too?”
“She didn’t say a word about you.”
“Really? I’m hurt. I thought for sure she and I had this thing going, you know.”
Ronni couldn’t help the eye roll. “You’ll get over it.”
“Let’s have a look at Adam’s room while we’re here.” Thomas ducked under the tape. “I want to see if anything seems out of place from our previous visit and I want my phone back.”
Ronni followed him under the tape, up the steps and to the back door. “You can’t remove anything from the house.”
He snickered as he held the door for her. “The hell I can’t.”
“Wow.” The house was eerily dark and quiet. “The Boy Scout is willing to screw with a crime scene for his own purposes.”
“Absolutely.”
His hand felt for hers, caught it. He drew her toward him. “You okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“After what went down here today, you have every right to be upset.”
The thought of Adam killing Kristine and his unborn child knotted her stomach. Since the moment she’d found Lance and Adam in the honey house, the twitch between her shoulder blades had been going crazy. “What was Adam doing in the honey house with Lance?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Do you think the ‘Judas’ Adam kept referring to in the chapel was Kristine?”
Her eyes were adjusting to the dark, but she felt more than saw him shrug. “Does it matter? The guy was schizo when he was talking about that.”
“What if the baby wasn’t Adam’s? What if Kristine was only claiming it was?”
“Jeez, what a fucking mess. If that’s true, and Adam knew it…”
“He might have thought she was after something. Like becoming a sacred wife, even if she wasn’t pregnant. And a sacred wife would have more power and influence than Melanie.”
“Not worth murder. A simple paternity test would have proven he wasn’t the father.”
“To you and me, that’s simple, but in Adam’s current mental state, who knows what he was thinking?”
“So maybe in his mind, God told him to kill the evil baby and its mother.”
“I hate to admit it, but it’s possible.”
“What a goatfuck.”
“At least he didn’t try to kill me.”
His thumb rubbed the pulse at her wrist. “Granted, but he did burn your picture. Kind of symbolic, don’t you think?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”
“That makes two of us.”
They had to leave the lights off or draw attention, but Thomas—smart man—had brought a flashlight. He clicked it on and they headed upstairs. The wood under their feet popped and squeaked in spots. Before, it had been charming, now it was eerie.
Everything about the house had changed in Ronni’s mind. What had initially been a warm and inviting home now seemed cold and haunted. Thanks to Thomas, the lines of Hotel California ran through her head. “I’m surprised you’re not humming or singing that stupid song.”
“I was trying to be considerate. You know, like a Keanu Reeves character. All emo and shit.”
She smiled into the dark. They’d reached the second floor landing, and the empty hallway loomed.
Thomas still held her hand, but her feet froze and she pulled up sharp, stopping him in his tracks. The pictures hanging on the wall looked ghostly in the illumination of the flashlight. Shadows jumped here and there.
“What’s the matter?” Thomas asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine. I just need…a moment.”
“Okay.” He waited, watching her. “If this is bothering you…being in here…I can handle it on my own.”
“No, I, uh…” Damn it. She had to get her shit together.
But her feet wouldn’t move. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Ronni…”
“I don’t know how I saved Adam the first time,” she blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind. She wanted to turn around and run back down the stairs and out of the house,
but maybe if she admitted her deepest, darkest fear, she could overcome this paralysis. “And I sure as hell don’t know how I’m going to save him this time.”
Thomas lowered the flashlight. She could see the outline of his features in the glow. “What do you mean, you don’t know how you saved him?”
She looked down the long hallway, Adam’s office and bedroom was on one side, Kristine’s, and Melanie’s on the other. A memory of the siege threatened to close off her chest. She held it at bay. This was the exact opposite of Wrightsville, so why was she freezing up?
There were no guns firing, no tanks knocking down buildings.
Only her and Thomas.
Still, memories were a funny thing. She could block them from her mind, but her body reacted anyway. That was seemingly why she couldn’t move.
The memory surged, demanding to be told. She gripped Thomas’s hand a little tighter. “I got to the bus with Adam. It was mostly buried underground as a tornado refuge, and the last day of the siege, a bunch of women took the children there to protect them. Later, that afternoon, my mother handed Adam to me and sent me to the bus when it looked like all was lost. I’d never been so scared, running across the compound, my eyes stinging from the teargas and fires…”
She was standing in the middle of it again in her mind. It was so real, her skin burned.
Thomas put his face directly in front of hers. “Ronni?”
She snapped out of it, shook her head to clear her senses. “Sorry. It’s just…I don’t know what happened.”
His eyebrows raised in question.
She blew out a long breath. Steeled herself. “I got to the bus and teargas pellets started raining down around us. The women and children who were inside the bus—they’d already been gassed and were screaming and fighting to get out, so I couldn’t take Adam in there. But I couldn’t stay outside because the bad men were coming and the fires were raging. I remember everything up to that point…and then it’s a black hole. Somehow I saved Adam. At least that’s what the FBI told me. I just don’t remember doing it.”
And now, after all this, I wonder if they lied.
Obviously some of the information in her files gathered by Bureau agents on Adam was false. Maybe rescuing him was false too.
Thomas grabbed her hand again, offered a reassuring squeeze. “Traumatic situation. You blotted it out of your memory. It’s a common thing for survivors to do.”
Survivor. She hated that word. To her ears, it sounded too much like victim.
There was no reason she should have survived and she’d never accepted the idea she was a hero for saving Adam. She couldn’t even remember doing it. “Sometimes I’ve wondered…”
Was she really going to admit this?
“Wondered what? You can tell me.”
Please don’t laugh. “I’ve wondered if it was…God who saved Adam and me that day.”
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t say a word. Just drew her into his arms and stroked the back of her hair. “I don’t know much about God, but what I do know is that you’re a fighter and you’re still here and swinging. That’s all that matters.”
Ronni wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.
I hope you’re right.
The tightness in her chest loosened. Her scar stopped burning. In Thomas’s arms, she didn’t have to think, just be. Accept his comfort.
God, I love this man.
The thought jarred her. “Thomas, I…”
“It’s okay. No worries. Why don’t you stay here and I’ll go through Adam’s stuff on my own.”
“It’s not that. I need to tell you something.”
“Something else about the siege?”
“About you and me.”
He shifted her so he could look in her face. “You’re not bailing on me, are you?”
“Kinda the opposite, actually.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think I’m falling for you.”
He laughed then, full and deep. “The old Boy Scout charm did you in, didn’t it, my pretty chameleon?”
She smacked his arm. “I’m sharing an emotional moment with you and you’re making fun.”
“Never.” He drew her to him and kissed her deeply. “I’ve been crazy for you since the first time I saw your apricot hair in Des Moines. I only tease you because you really, really need to lighten up and have some fun.”
He did bring fun into her life. “Maybe you’re right.”
After a moment, they broke apart and Ronni found she could move her feet again. Thomas led her down the hallway.
She wanted to say something, to thank him for understanding, for making her feel better than she’d felt in months, but she sensed she didn’t need to tell him. He already knew.
The door to Adam’s office was unlocked, and Thomas entered first, snatching up his cell phone from the desk. Without saying a word, the two of them used the adjoining door to enter Adam’s bedroom.
The drugs had been confiscated. A few markers had been placed on the nightstand to denote where various objects had been. The nightstand’s drawer hung open and another marker lay inside. Thomas made quick work of examining under the bed and inside the closet without disturbing anything. “Looks the same as the other day.”
“Did we miss the Walther or was it just not here?”
“Could be either.”
She wished they’d examined the room more thoroughly the first time, but that was water under the bridge.
“Do you want to see the crime scene?”
“Yes,” she lied.
Kristine wasn’t the usual nameless, unknown victim of a crime she was investigating. Ronni had known her. They’d eaten dinner together, talked about things over dishwashing duty. The woman had meant something to Adam and might have been carrying Ronni’s niece or nephew. Stepping across the hall, ignoring the crime scene tape draped across the bedroom door, and entering the room, sent chills racing along Ronni’s arms.
Thomas did a slow sweep of the bed. The crime scene techs had confiscated the sheets and pillows, but there was still blood that had seeped into the mattress.
“Her body was positioned here.” He made a general outline with his hands. “She was shot from behind, either as she turned her back on her killer, or he pushed her down and shot her in the back of the head. My guess is the latter. That way, he could hold her down, shove the pillow to her skull, and pull the trigger. A Walther is small and doesn’t make a lot of noise. By adding the pillow, the killer reduced the sound enough to make it almost unnoticeable outside the house. But Kristine was lying on her back, as if the killer flipped her over after he did the deed.”
Her stomach threatened to revolt. She swallowed hard, tried to detach herself. “Making sure she was dead?”
“Or he wanted to see her face in death.”
Her stomach flip-flopped again. Some killers—especially the personal ones—needed that closure. Needed to see their victim’s face after they’d snuffed out their life.
Could Adam be so coldhearted?
Could Lance?
“We’ve been focused on my brother and Lance. Anyone else pinging your radar?”
Thomas nodded. “Jacob.”
“He’s a cop.”
“Maybe a dirty one.” Thomas walked to the window, glanced outside. “What’s his motive?”
“With all the lies and secrets around here, who knows? I suspected he might be behind the gunrunning and drugs, but now…”
“Okay, let’s throw a few ideas out. Maybe it was his baby. Maybe Kristine had been sleeping with him.”
“Melanie and Kristine? Busy guy.”
“The kill was too precise for Adam, and Lance claims he’s never held a gun. If we take the two of them out of the picture, Jacob makes for the perfect suspect. LAPD, possible Army experience, unless he made that up for his cover identity. Either way, he has extensive firearm training. He’s having an affair with Melanie and could be using her—with her consent
—to run guns, prescription drugs, and money through her salon and this farm.”
“And if he gets caught, he can claim it was all her operation. Nice cover.”
Thomas turned from the window, studied the bed again. “But why kill Kristine and bring heat on them? The last thing he’d want is to put the farm in the spotlight with law enforcement.”
“And the media.” Ronni yawned. She’d had too few hours of sleep and too much nonstop adrenaline, which was now draining off. “How soon before they show up?”
“I’m sure Coop and Dupé are pressuring the sheriff to keep a lid on this as long as possible, but my guess is the media will get hold of the story by lunchtime tomorrow.”
Ronni swayed on her feet. “We need to have a look at the honey house and that path the delivery truck took.”
“While I’d love nothing better than to take you back to the honey house,”—Thomas moved to stand in front of her—“we’ll check it out tomorrow morning before breakfast. Right now, you need sleep. You’re dead on your feet.”
“But what if Jacob’s the killer?”
He drew her into an embrace. “I’ll keep tabs on him.”
They left the house and walked in silence to the women’s quarters. Thomas kissed her long and deep before he jogged off toward the men’s quarters.
Ronni watched until he was out of sight. She’d never been in love before. A few crushes here and there, but love?
Her old buddy, Murphy, laughed inside her head. Of course, she’d fall for her partner…
Chapter Thirty-four
Early the next morning, Thomas showered and dressed before anyone was up, snagged his freshly charged phone, and headed for the honey house.
The grass was wet with dew. Fog hung in the air. He’d stayed on guard most of the night, keeping an eye on Jacob’s door and running through a dozen possible murder scenarios. The truth was, there were a lot of potential killers on the farm and too many possible motives. He and Ronni hadn’t been there long enough to get to know the majority of the people or all the dramas playing out day and night behind closed doors. Because of that, his body buzzed with anticipation, even though he’d slept little. He might not be able to solve the murder, but he was going to find those damn guns. Or whatever Jacob was hiding.
