by Evans, Misty
He walked in silence. East, near the house, a rooster crowed. The sun wasn’t up yet and probably wouldn’t cut through the fog for another hour or so. Hopefully, Ronni was still asleep and he’d find some sort of evidence before she arrived. They’d wrap up their case and leave the murder investigation to the locals.
The honey house was dark and in disarray from the previous day’s encounter with Lance. Thomas picked up a tool from the floor, placed it on the table. Memories of Ronni spreading her legs for him flooded his mind. He wanted more of her…physically, mentally, emotionally…and she was coming around. He just hoped their relationship could survive the outside, everyday world. Which was ass-backward. The outside, everyday world should be a breeze to conquer after being undercover inside a cult.
He’d failed Ronni in Des Moines, but not here. Not this time. Keeping her safe was his first priority. Then, he was either going to clear Adam’s name or find the evidence to charge him.
But Ronni’s life wasn’t in danger at the moment. Lance and Adam were tied up for a while, and even a dirty cop—if that’s what Jacob was—would think twice about harming a federal agent.
So he’d let her sleep and see if he could find whatever had been delivered by the white truck. The sooner they got out of here, the sooner he could take her back to his place and ravish her again.
The honey house was nothing more than a shack. Hard to hide anything substantial there.
The floor was old pine wood planks, stained and gouged by years of use. Thomas grabbed the tool from the table. It was fashioned like a small crowbar and about the same weight. It even had a flat end like one. He slammed his heels on various spots of wood, trying to find a plank that sounded hollow.
Nothing. No hidden crevices or crawl spaces. No hidden loot. He even pried up a few of the floorboards just to be sure.
Leaving the tool, he went outside and jogged west, looking for the hidden path the truck, and Ronni, had used.
It took some searching, but he found a trail that circled around the far end of the property, hidden from the main area by pines, overgrown bushes and grass. After fighting through a mass of tangled branches that acted as a natural blockade, he followed the trail, and two dozen yards south, discovered a place where it widened considerably. In the distance, he heard the drone of an engine.
The sound drew closer, but in the heavy fog he couldn’t make out what type of vehicle was headed his way. No headlights, no outline, but it sounded like a truck. Was it the truck? If so, why was it coming back?
Sneaking into the tangled overgrowth, he crouched and waited.
Ronni was dreaming of her mother when Melanie shook her arm. “Roanna! Wake up!”
Instantly, she came awake. “Melanie? What is it?”
The room had the half-darkness of early morning, and the woman’s face hovered a foot above her, pale and fuzzy. Her voice was urgent, but low and quiet. Barely above a whisper. “It’s Paige. She’s at the honey house. You need to come quick.”
“Paige? What’s going on?”
“She ran away. Belinda noticed she was gone and woke me. We were frantic. I told her to stay here, in case Paige came back, and I went to the men’s quarters to see if she went looking for her dad. She wasn’t there and so I went to the honey house. The poor girl. She’s a wreck. She’s asking for you.”
“Me?” Ronni sat up, began pulling on her jeans. “Why me?”
“Maybe because you were kind to her at the house?”
She had been kind to Paige, but she guessed there was something else going on with the girl. She’d been fascinated with Ronni from day one. Maybe she recognized a kindred spirit.
Ronni felt the old sadness seep into her bones. “I’m coming.” She drew on her shirt from the day before because, unlike Melanie, she had no other clothes. They were still inside the main house. “Let me hit the bathroom.”
She used the toilet, washed her hands, and finger-combed her hair in the communal bathroom. Nothing like having to talk an eight-year-old off the ledge first thing in the morning.
She and Melanie left the women’s quarters, Melanie insisting they be super quiet and not wake anyone.
Ronni stopped her by the back door. “Did you tell Belinda you found Paige? Doesn’t she want to come with us?”
“Paige refuses to talk to her. Or me, really. She only wants to talk to you.”
“Okay, then. Lead the way.”
“I’m going to stay here. Give you two some privacy.”
What was she going to say to the girl? “Does she know what happened to her mom?”
Melanie nodded somberly. “And her father. You can imagine why she’s run away to the honey house and refuses to come back.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She trudged into the foggy early morning, her brain trying figure out what to say to Paige to help her cope. She was no psychotherapist, but God knew she’d been to enough of them in her childhood and adult years. Surely something they’d said to her would be of use with Paige.
Thomas’s patience was rewarded when a white delivery truck crept past his hiding spot. The one from the photos. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a familiar face in the driver’s seat.
“Shit.” He withdrew his phone, saw he’d missed a call from Cooper. He’d left the ringer off.
The truck lumbered north toward the honey house. He dialed in and listened to a voicemail Coop had left him.
“Lance was released at oh-four-hundred. Cops couldn’t hold him. No eye witnesses place him in or near the house yesterday. No gunshot residue on his hands and his fingerprints don’t match those on the gun. They’re running the prints through the system now, but so far, no matches.”
Well, that explained Lance’s freedom, but not why he was in the driver seat of the delivery truck.
Thomas watched the truck until it disappeared around the curve, blocking the honey house from view.
Cooper’s message continued. “In bigger news, Adam is missing.”
WTF?
“He escaped the mental health wing of Ocean View Clinic sometime after the oh-three-hundred check by a nurse. They shot him full of an antipsychotic when he arrived, and he’d been out until she checked on him at three. According to her report, he was lucid, and kept repeating that he needed to leave. God had spoken to him and his sister was in danger.”
The hair on Thomas’s arms rose. “Goddammit,” he swore under his breath.
He forgot about keeping an eye on Lance and paced away from the truck and deeper into the tangled brush. He didn’t wait for Cooper’s message to end before dialing his number. As the phone rang on the other end, Thomas left the underbrush and ran south along the path, putting a good twenty yards or so between him and Lance. Definitely out of earshot.
“Where is Adam now?” he said the moment Coop answered.
“We don’t know.” His boss sounded tired. Wrung out. It had taken him nearly eight rings to answer the phone. “He was restrained so he couldn’t go anywhere, yet he got out and the nurses claim the straps are undamaged. Someone simply unfastened them.”
Thomas veered off the path and into another outcropping of scraggly pines. A faded red bull’s eye was painted on one of the tree trunks. He edged closer, noticing chunks of wood were missing. Ronni’s comments from their first taskforce meeting swirled in his head. “Someone inside the hospital is a Heaven’s Gate supporter?”
Coop’s voice held an edge of sarcasm. “Gossip at the hospital is that God freed him.”
Right. Thomas wanted to throw his phone. He touched one of the notched divots on the tree. Someone had used it for target practice. Adam? “How far could he get in his state? One shot of meds isn’t going to turn him back into a normal person again.”
“Hospital staff spent an hour combing the building and grounds under that same assumption before they notified the police.”
Thomas paced away from the tree in the direction the bullets had come from. “Idiots.”
“APB is out, but no leads yet. He was smart enough to throw on his street clothes before he walked.” In the background, there was the sound of shuffling and Celina’s voice offering a refill on coffee. Cooper grunted a yes, then said to Thomas, “How’d you get your phone?”
“You don’t want to know.” He crouched, brushed some debris aside, and found a bullet casing on the ground five feet from the tree. Taking out his handkerchief, he used it to pick up the casing. Looked to be from a .22.
Slurping sounds came from Coop’s end. “Think he’ll head back to the farm?”
His sister’s here. “Where else?”
“Want me to send black and whites?”
“And scare him off? No way.” He glanced toward the bend that led to the honey house, wished he had x-ray vision to cut through the fog and trees. Maybe Adam was already there, thanks to a little help from Lance. An unlikely pair, but it wouldn’t be the first time enemies had become allies. He pocketed the casing, wrapped in the handkerchief. “Let me apprehend him. I’ll call you as soon as he shows up.”
“This guy’s a different caliber of criminal than what we’re used to dealing with, T. Watch your ass, and Punto’s too.”
He didn’t need the reminder. “Later.”
He stood and pocketed the phone.
Time to see what—or who—is in the back of that truck.
Chapter Thirty-five
A white truck was parked behind the honey house. Ronni’s footsteps slowed.
Bianca’s satellite photos. This looked to be the same truck.
Ronni tiptoed to the honey house’s northwest side, slipped behind the shack, and leaned over until she could see the cab of the truck. Empty.
Commotion arose inside. Crashing, bumping around.
Ronni put her back against the house, edged closer to the door. It was cracked open, allowing her to hear the tread of heavy footsteps. The murmuring of a man.
Not Jacob…Lance.
He was back. With the truck.
Where was Paige?
Can’t help her out here. Easing open the door, Ronni stood outside the threshold. “What are you doing here?” she said in a calm voice that belied the turmoil she felt inside.
Lance startled, whirling around to face her. His face was red, his eyes bloodshot. He raked a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. “This is my home. Something you probably don’t understand.”
“The police let you go?”
“The cops had nothing on me. Because I didn’t kill her.”
She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “You drive the truck in?”
“Jacob picked me up in it, said he had to stay in town, do some business this morning. Told me to drive it back.”
“The truck belongs to Jacob?”
“He rents it from a garage in town. To haul big stuff in and out.”
“Like what?”
“Like crates of produce to farmers markets.” He sighed and looked at her like she’d lost her marbles. “In case you didn’t notice, this is a farm. We need tractor parts. Furniture. Building supplies. You name it.”
Seemed within reason. “I’ve never seen that truck before.”
Lance’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been here what? Three days, maybe four? There are lots of things you haven’t seen.”
Like guns?
She stepped over the threshold. He’d flipped over the cot, knocked tools and twine over on the workbench and table. “What are you looking for?”
His gaze darted away. “I lost a key ring…Kristine gave it to me. It had a bee on it.” He touched a jar of honey on the lowest shelf. “I thought it was too girly. Tossed it somewhere out of the way. Now…”
At the look on his face, Ronni’s heart twinged. Her mother had given her a cheap necklace with a unicorn on it before they’d moved to Mount Royal. The day of the siege, Ronni had lost it. Adam had probably pulled it from her neck on accident. Afterwards, she’d searched and searched for that necklace in the few belongings she had. Even as an adult, she’d visited the site and thought—hoped—she’d find that silly unicorn lying in the Texas dirt.
“Where’s Paige?”
“Paige?”
“Melanie told me she was here, asking for me.”
Lance snorted. “Why would she want you?”
Why would she want to see you when she thinks you killed her mother? “That’s what I was here to find out.”
“Well, she’s not here.”
Obviously. “Do you think she ran off?” Perhaps when you showed up?
“She’s in the women’s quarters with Belinda like always. Why would she run off?”
“Because she just lost her mother and you were taken into custody as the possible murderer.”
One hand raked through his hair again. “God, that kid’s already a mess. Now with this…” He brushed past her. “I better go see her.”
“She’s not there. I’m telling you, Melanie woke me up to tell me Paige was distraught and hiding here in the honey house.”
“She never liked the bees or the honey. Why the hell would she come here?”
Good question, since she didn’t seem close to her dad.
“I don’t know, but why would Melanie send me here under that assumption if she wasn’t?”
“I told Melanie to send you here.” Jacob stood in the doorway, blocking out the measly amount of sunlight coming through. Blocking their exit.
“Thought you were still in town,” Lance said, blinking at him.
“More pressing matters”—Jacob’s dark gaze slid to Ronni—“here.”
His eyes were flat. His facial features drawn. The shadows on his face gave him a menacing air.
“We’re looking for Paige.” Ronni tried to ignore the burning sensation in her back. “Do you know where she is?”
“She’s in the women’s quarters fast asleep.”
“So why did you have Melanie lie?”
Jacob took a step forward, crossing the threshold. He was wearing a leather jacket and when it flapped open, Ronni caught sight of a gun and holster. “Adam killed Kristine. End of story. Now he’s gone, and it’s time for you and your boyfriend to leave the farm. I brought you out here so we could have a talk. In private.”
He gave Lance a look that said, “Get lost”.
Lance’s gaze flicked between Ronni and Jacob. “I’m going to go see my daughter.”
“Good idea, Lance,” Jacob said.
The man staggered out of the honey house with one last look over his shoulder. Ronni took a small step back, surreptitiously looking for a weapon. “No charges have been brought against Adam.”
“Yet. There will be.”
“There’s no proof he pulled the trigger.”
“I talked to my buddies in the SD police department. Seems there’s enough damning evidence to bring him up on charges. But then, you haven’t been brought up to date yet, have you? Been stuck here by your superiors, forced to use your influence to create some kind of case against your brother for gunrunning or something, and then he ups and commits murder.” His chuckle was cold. “What did they promise you if you brought him in?”
“What?”
“A new career here on the coast? Come on, I know how the feds work.”
Outside the window, Ronni thought she saw something move. Lance? A bird? The fog was so heavy. “All this time you’ve been undercover, you haven’t found a thing that proves Adam is a criminal, have you?”
“The feds never wanted to touch him before because he was Daniel Karsni’s son. I might have stretched the truth a bit to my bosses about him being a real threat. They might have passed on some of that intel to the Bureau. I have a sweet thing going here. But now you and that asshole showed up. Guess I supplied a little too much believable intel. Someone inside the Bureau decided to check it out.”
“You falsified reports about the guns and teargas? About the snipers?”
“Snipers?” He stepped to her right, forcing her away from the bench of tools. “
I never said anything about snipers. Someone else must have made that up. Doesn’t matter. Adam is a threat, even if it’s not with guns. At least he wasn’t a threat with guns until yesterday.”
“Adam didn’t kill Kristine.” Her nerves tingled with dread, but she had to say what she thought. “You did. I just can’t figure out why.”
“Me?” He laughed cynically. “It’s sweet you want to protect your bat-shit crazy brother, but I didn’t kill Kristine.” He took a casual step forward, gave her a sad smile. “Look, all I wanted was an easy assignment for once. I got tired of working the streets day in and day out. You know how it is. You never know when the next bullet with your name on it is going to strike.”
Or the next knife.
Focus. “You’ve had a tranquil life here with Melanie, haven’t you? Had your fingers in everything from the donations to the security.”
“I like it here. Beats the streets any day.”
“Well, you’re done now.”
He chuckled with disgust. “Yeah, with no crazy cult leader to investigate, my operation is over. But I’m thinking of getting out of police work. Melanie and I…we can continue to run this place together. We’ve got a good thing going. One of the reasons I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let on to the others I’m a cop. They never need to know.”
She didn’t believe his act. He wasn’t a happily-ever-after kind of guy, and either way, he was an unethical cop. “Where are the guns, Jacob?”
He gave her a look of disbelief. “There are no guns. Don’t you get it? I made that shit up.”
“What is the truck for?”
“God, you’re dense. Lance told you, we use the truck for hauling stuff.”
“He’s telling the truth.” Thomas—God, he was a sight for sore eyes—stood in the doorway. “The only thing in the truck—today, anyway—are six giant cartons of paper towels and a hundred and forty-four cans of tomato sauce. But there is a nice little homemade shooting range out back. That yours, Jake?”
While happy to see Thomas, Ronni was disappointed in the lack of evidence. There had to be something here. Why would Jacob be delivering something in the middle of the night like on the photos?
