Injustice For All

by Robin Caroll

  Hartlock passed him a business card. “In case you get a moment before Monday.” He pointed at Hayden who slipped it into his jeans pocket. “My cell number is written on the back. Call me anytime.”

  Hayden gave a final nod in Rafe’s direction, then shut the door. He let out a heavy sigh.

  One set of footsteps echoed down the stairs. A second set. A moment passed. Hayden put an eye to the peephole.

  “Lars, are you coming?” Devane waited at the bottom of the stairs.

  The agent continued to stare at the front door. A minute jumped off the clock. Finally footfalls clunked down the steps.

  Hayden dared to breathe again but continued watching through the peephole. Just to make sure Hartlock didn’t sneak out and let Devane drive away. He wouldn’t put anything past the jerk.

  Car doors slammed in unison. Engines revved. Tires crunched on dead leaves and dry ground.

  “Are they gone?”

  He jumped and spun. “I thought I told you not to come out until I let you know the coast was clear?”

  Bella shrugged. “I never was good at following orders.” She jutted her chin toward the bayou. “They gone?”

  He glanced out the window. The second car’s tires hit the road. “Yep.”

  She plopped onto the couch. “That was close. What did they want?”

  “To talk to me. And you.”

  “You, I can understand. Why me?”

  He shook his head, gauging the fear creeping back into her eyes. “I have a meeting with them in my office on Monday at nine. Guess we’ll know then.”

  She stood again, grabbing the back of the couch. What little color had restored to her face dissipated like the steam filtering through the house. “They’ve figured it out. I need to get out of here. Now. No one around me is safe. I have to go.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He moved closer to her, in case she crashed again. “Not right now.”

  “Hayden, they didn’t come here to ask questions. They came to kill me. Don’t you get that?” Her voice raised several octaves.

  No doubt Hartlock would take a shot if he could. “I do. And I understand why you’re scared. Trust me, after seeing Hartlock in person, I get it. But I don’t think they’re sure you’re Remington.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Well, for one, they didn’t tell Rafe who they think you are. I could tell. He’s clueless.” And attracted to Bella, but Hayden would keep that tidbit to himself for the time being.

  She snorted. “You know him that well now, huh? Known him all of what, three or four days?”

  “I am trained in analyzing body language, you know.”

  Bella laughed. “So am I. Extensively and exhaustively.”

  “But you didn’t see him, so you wouldn’t be able to tell.”

  She shrugged, but at least her posture was more relaxed. She still kept her position in the hallway, clutching the back of the couch.

  “And hearing that Chubbers was your pride and joy confused him.”

  “I bet it did. It was well known back then that I had a lot of disdain for dogs.” She glanced at her Lab, leaning up against her leg. “Sorry, boy. Just saying how it used to be. I love you.”

  His tail wagged in response.

  “Hartlock’s not positive, which is why he came here. He wanted to see you . . . talk to you. Find out if you are Remington.”

  “I can’t stay hidden in the shower forever.”

  “No, but maybe you can stay hidden long enough for us to figure out who all is involved in their murder conspiracy.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “If you make a move now, I think you’d be putting yourself in more danger. He’ll be expecting Remington to run.”

  She smiled. “Hayden, I am Remington, you know.”

  “I know.” But she’d always be Bella to him.

  Chapter Twenty

  “All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make, the better.”

  RALPH WALDO EMERSON

  Why were Hartlock and Devane so bound and determined to meet with Bella Miller? It didn’t make any sense. Hartlock seemed more intent on talking with her than interviewing Hayden Simpson.

  Rafe stared at the case information sprawled out on the motel bed. What am I missing?

  Back up to the beginning. Okay . . . what had he uncovered about the case during his short stay in Hopewell? Hayden Simpson was Daniel Tate’s son, but Hayden hadn’t known that until he’d been told this past week. Rafe wouldn’t believe otherwise—the man showed every sign of surprise and not a single deception marker. What else?

  Rafe’s talk with Ardy Simpson had been enlightening. Bella had known Simpson was Tate’s son. How?

  Was it possible Hartlock and Devane were aware not only that Bella had known, but how she knew? How could they know something he hadn’t any idea how to explain?

  Rafe scrubbed his scalp. Why couldn’t he figure this out? He went back over his personal notes. His impressions. Mrs. Simpson’s impressions of his unexplained feelings for Bella.

  That stopped him cold.

  Aw, who was he kidding? He was very attracted and very interested in her. Her quiet strength seemed to call to him. There was something about her on a very deep, almost spiritual level that pulled him to her. But he wanted—no, needed—to see her and get to know her better.

  And he couldn’t explain why he felt the way he did. He’d also never had such a strong, out-of-the-blue pull to anyone. Not even to Georgia.

  Rafe waited for the guilt to assault him. It didn’t. For the first time since becoming a Christian, when he thought of Georgia, the guilt didn’t cloak him.

  God, have I done enough? Am I truly forgiven?

  The loud notes of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly theme song filled the room.

  He grabbed his cell and flipped it open. “Hey, Darren. What’s up?”

  “You sound odd. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Was just praying.” It was so nice to be able to just be himself without guarding every word he spoke.

  “It’s going that badly?” Darren chuckled.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the papers of the file flung on the bed with no rhyme or reason. “The ASAC and another agent are here. Arrived in town last night.”

  “On a weekend? Wow, did you catch a break?”

  “I’m not real sure what their game is.”

  “No score, eh?”

  “Not that I can figure out.”

  “How’d the talk with Simpson’s mother go?”

  “Pretty good. Discovered a couple of things I didn’t know.”

  “Like?”

  Rafe smiled, loving that he could fall back into the same routine. “Tate came here once after Simpson was born.”

  “You think there’s any connection?”

  Rafe stared at his handwritten notes. “I can’t see how there’s any tie. Unless someone saw Tate, but still . . . there’s no connection.”

  “What else did you find out from Mrs. Simpson?”

  “That Bella Miller knew Simpson was Tate’s son.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t know. Mrs. Simpson didn’t know either.”

  “Was Miller attempting to blackmail the mother?”

  Rafe laughed. “Not hardly. She agreed to keep quiet about Simpson’s paternity and did so for the past few years.”

  “This is the woman you can’t get a read on, right?”

  “Right.” But he needed to. Desperately. If God was leading him to her, then he needed to get everything about her figured out.

  A heavy sigh sounded.

  That caught Rafe by surprise. “Darren? Is everything
okay?”

  “You’re attracted to this woman, aren’t you?”

  Rafe swallowed. “Yeah, so? It won’t affect my ability to work the case.”

  Silence.

  “Darren?”

  “Maybe it’s best that we have this conversation on the phone and not in person.”

  Rafe’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

  “Are you going to destroy your chance of happiness with this woman like all the other ones you’ve been interested in before?”

  He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He’d only dated a few women in the past several years. None of them lasted more than a few months. He just couldn’t forgive himself for having loved Georgia. “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s gone, Rafe. We both have to accept that and move on. I can’t because of Savannah, but you can.”

  Rafe went cold. “What are you saying?”

  “It’s time we talked about Georgia, don’t you think?”

  His muscles tensed without his intention. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Darren.”

  “Come on, buddy, don’t insult me like this. We both know you were in love with Georgia. Were from the first time you met her.”

  Heart racing, Rafe let out a whoosh of air. “You knew?”

  Darren chuckled, but the sound was foreign, lacking humor. “Of course I knew. I’m not blind. Or stupid.”

  “You have to believe me, there was never a single time—”

  “I said not to insult me. I know there was never anything going on between y’all. I trusted Georgia with my heart . . . my love. I’ve always trusted you with my life.”

  Rafe’s vision blurred.

  “I knew neither of you would ever betray me.”

  “I’m sorry, man.” If he’d have been able to choose not to love her, he would have. It sure would have made his life a lot easier.

  “Don’t apologize. Georgia inspired love in everyone.” Darren’s voice was thick with emotion. “Remember how passionate she was when she found Jesus?”

  Rafe smiled at the memory.

  “Darren, Rafe . . . y’all have to understand. Our lives have purpose. Meaning. We aren’t just here by some fluke. God’s been orchestrating our lives from before we were born.”

  Her smile . . . her enthusiasm—she hadn’t stopped until both Rafe and Darren had followed her to church and met with the pastor.

  “She loved life and people.” Darren sniffed. “But she’s gone, and you have to move on. She wouldn’t want you to miss out on love, Rafe. She loved you too. Not like you loved her, but you know what I mean.”

  His response got stuck on the roof of his mouth.

  “I’ve watched you subconsciously measure every woman you ever dated against Georgia. It’s not fair. Not to them. Not to you.”

  Did he? He didn’t think so, but maybe . . . “I—”

  “Don’t argue. I’ve seen you do it time and again. Don’t mess this one up. Let Georgia go.”

  “Darren, I—”

  “I’m tired of watching you ruin the possibility of perfectly good relationships.”

  Guilt, his faithful old friend, returned to torment him. “But I coveted another man’s wife. I broke one of the Ten Commandments.”

  Darren sucked in air, hissing over the phone. “That’s what your problem is? That you loved a woman who was vibrant and passionate and loving?”

  “She was your wife.” The words cut him. But this time he didn’t feel like blood gushed from his heart.

  “Yes, but she was your friend first. And you fell in love with her before we got married.”

  “That makes it okay?”

  Darren chuckled. “I’m not a Bible scholar or anything, but I’m pretty certain God isn’t holding your emotions against you.”

  Yet . . .

  “Rafe, you honored our marriage. You never disrespected me or Georgia’s and my marriage, right?”

  His tongue felt thicker than Riley’s gravy. “No. Never.” He could barely whisper.

  “So why would you think God is keeping score?”

  “But the commandment says—”

  “I know what it says, but you controlled yourself. You never acted on your love, except for being there for Savannah and me even more.”

  “Still . . . I asked for forgiveness, but I couldn’t stop loving her. I couldn’t turn away from her. From loving her.”

  “Pray about it. I honestly don’t think God’s angry you loved her. You need to stop beating yourself up, pal.”

  “I feel so unworthy of God’s love because I broke this commandment.” The truth scraped across Rafe’s chest.

  “Man, we’re all unworthy of God’s love and mercy. All of us are such sinners. But guess what? His grace is enough. For me.” A heavy pause echoed silently over the phone connection. “And it’s enough for you, Rafe. He forgave you the moment you asked. You just have to forgive yourself.”

  Darren’s words were a balm to Rafe’s raw wound.

  “Think about what I said. Just consider everything.”

  Rafe dropped his gaze to the crime-scene photos. “Okay. I will.”

  Darren heaved a sigh. “Now, on to more promising things. Savannah’s team of doctors said she’s doing extremely well, and they’re all set for the surgery.”

  How his partner could switch gears so quickly . . . “That’s great. I miss her.” And he did. So much.

  “She misses you. Says she’s coloring you a picture for your new house.”

  “Can’t wait to see it.” Rafe smiled and stared at the picture on the motel room wall. The nature scene’s composition was quite unique. Dark.

  “I can’t thank you enough for transferring . . .”

  But Rafe wasn’t listening any longer. He snatched up the crime-scene photo. The one on the wall in Tate’s office. He held the snapshot close to his face, studying the framed photograph that hid Tate’s safe.

  His gaze danced to the picture hanging on the motel room wall. Back to the photograph. Back to the picture. Back to the photograph.

  “Rafe? Are you still there, buddy?”

  “I’ll have to call you back.” He shut his phone and let it drop from his fingers.

  Could it be?

  The picture. The photograph.

  Yes, he was positive. No mistaking the dark tone. The unique contrast. The play of natural light.

  Bella Miller had taken the framed picture hanging in Daniel Tate’s office.

  “Do you think it’s likely the SAC was involved?” Hayden asked.

  Chewing her bottom lip, Bella curled her feet under her on the couch. “If he wasn’t involved, he had to at least be aware.” That fact broke her heart. Alphonse Jackson, while reserved and cautious, had always impressed her as a man of integrity. A man of honor. To find out he had anything to do with Daniel’s death . . . Well, it turned her stomach.

  Hayden shifted on the couch to stare at her. He studied her for a moment before replying. “Is it possible he wasn’t aware?”

  As much as she’d like that to be so, she just couldn’t see it. “Hartlock’s the ASAC. I don’t see how he could act independently of Jackson.” Alphonse was many things, to be sure, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

  “I think you need to talk to Rafe Baxter. I think you can trust him.”

  Cold wound its tentacles around her chest. “I can’t. I don’t know how deep and wide this corruption runs. That would put my life in danger. And yours now, Hayden. They already assume you’re protecting me.” Now she had put her best friend, the man she loved like a brother, in the crosshairs of corrupt FBI agents who’d already resorted to murder to keep their secrets safe.

  “I trust him.”

  “With your life?�
�� She shivered.

  “Yes.” He grabbed the afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it over her lap. “Think about it, Bella. If he was in on it, he would know you’re Remington. And if he knew for fact you were Remington, he’d have already acted. Sound logical?”

  “Yeah.” But she didn’t want to be logical. What if she put her trust in the wrong people and Hayden or Ardy or Emily got hurt? Once upon a time she’d trusted Hartlock and Devane, and look what happened to Daniel.

  “And he’s perfect to talk to. He’s new to that office, so he doesn’t have any loyalties to anyone there. Matter-of-fact, they treat him as an outsider.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “He told me.”

  “You’ve gotten awful chummy with him. Do you think that’s wise?”

  Hayden straightened. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m just saying . . . maybe he’s in cahoots with Hartlock and Devane and his assignment was to befriend you to get closer to me, to the truth. Now that he’s pretty certain who I am, he called in reinforcers. Namely, Hartlock, to do his dirty work.” Like put a big, fat bullet in her head.

  Face paling, Hayden stilled. “That could be. I did think it odd that he shared the case notes with me.” He shook his head. “And that would explain his interest in you. How could I have misread him?”

  Her pulse spiked. “What do you mean his interest in me?” She hadn’t been able to avoid noticing his mere presence when he was in a room. The intensity of his eyes. The smell of his cologne. His intelligence. His easy smile. His muscular frame . . . No, she would not go there. Not now and not with an FBI agent, for pity’s sakes.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this. I thought he was interested in you. Like a man to a woman.” Still wearing a grave expression, Hayden inched to the edge of the couch. “I even thought it comical that he seemed attracted to the woman he sought in relation to his case.”

  Hayden thought Rafe was attracted to her? She licked her lips and sat up too. “Wait a minute. Let’s talk about this. What made you think he was attracted to me?”

  Her head felt as if someone had shoved wads of cotton between her ears. Every time she’d been around Rafe she had felt strange things. She’d chucked it up to nervousness that he’d figure out who she was. What if she’d been wrong? What if she felt like she did because—oh-my-stars—she was attracted to him?