by Robin Caroll
“Just the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to get inside your head. How he says your name . . . softer than his regular tone.” He smiled. “The way he seems to be overly cautious around you. Almost like he’s scared to scare you off.”
Her tongue refused to obey. Words wouldn’t form. This was bad, very bad. If she was attracted to him, and he to her . . . this could not end well. There would only be heartbreak because no matter how attracted they were, they could never be.
“I was actually a little jealous. That you might find him attractive and things would advance, and I’d lose my best friend.”
She smiled. “Hay, you’re always going to be my best friend. No matter what.”
He slumped back against the couch. “I can’t believe I misread him. I’d been so sure.”
Rafe Baxter was a handsome man. Strong. Determined. For a moment Bella allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To have him look at her with passion.
“I’m sorry.” Hayden snapped her back to reality. “But what if we could trust him?”
“What?”
“If we could trust Rafe, would you tell him the truth? Let him help you?”
Could she allow herself to be so vulnerable? Put her life and the lives of those she loved at risk? She didn’t know.
“Bella?”
“I honestly don’t know. It would be hard to trust anyone with that badge.”
“Fair enough. But I do think we should figure out which side he’s leaning toward on the fence he’s straddling.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
Hayden shrugged. “Not a clue.”
She didn’t have another plan, and despite her confusion over Rafe, she didn’t have many options left. Not that would keep Hayden and his family safe. “Why can’t I just run?” But she lacked conviction even as she said the words.
He didn’t buy it either. “You know you can’t. Isn’t it time that somebody pay for killing Daniel?”
Her stomach tightened as if she’d been punched.
“Look, we’ll figure this out together. You’ll stay safe.”
Physically, perhaps. But what about her heart? Would it remain unscathed?
Chapter Twenty-One
“Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.”
MARK TWAIN
“Thanks for letting me come by, Bella.” Emily hung her jacket on one of the coat hooks in the entryway.
“No problem.” Bella nodded toward the kitchen. “I was just about to put on a fresh pot of coffee. If you’ll excuse me.” She winked at Hayden, then left.
He motioned his sister into the living room. “So, what’s this about?” He couldn’t help but be wary.
She perched on the arm of the couch and licked her lips. “Marshall.”
Great. Now what? “Okay. What about Marshall?”
“He’s jockeying for your job.” Her eyes were wide as she blinked.
Like he didn’t know? “Yes, I’m aware.”
Her bottom lip quivered ever-so-slightly. “No, you don’t understand. He said there’s one particular councilman who is talking to the others to get them to replace you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Hayden. I was mad at you because you were right—Boyd was just using me.”
Oh no. He recognized the tears for what they were: sympathy grabbers. He uncrossed his legs. “What did you do, Emily?”
Tears streamed down her face. “I didn’t mean to do anything that would hurt you. I really didn’t.”
He clenched his jaw. “Just tell me . . . what did you do?”
“I-I told Marshall you knew I keyed MaryBeth’s car and didn’t do anything.”
He managed not to groan aloud, but it was hard. Very hard. “Why would you say that, Em?”
The tears kept flowing but Hayden wasn’t fazed. He’d become immune to his sister’s dramatic tactics. “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.”
“How does a lie just slip out?”
She dug a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose. “He was talking about how he wanted your job and how he’d be so much better at it.” She blew her nose again, most unladylike. “I was angry with you because you’d been right about Boyd, so I wanted to get back at you. But I promise, I didn’t know he’d call that councilman.”
Great. Now Montgomery would have some ammunition on him. Even though it was untrue, there was no way for Hayden to prove that. There was only one way to at least save part of his reputation. “So you did key MaryBeth’s car?”
Emily nodded. “I was so angry. Boyd had lied to me . . . led me to believe he was leaving that fat pig to marry me. Then I found out she was pregnant! He’d told me they weren’t even sleeping together anymore.” New tears made tracks down her face.
“She was . . . is his wife.” He straightened. No sense having the old argument. She wouldn’t listen and this particular one was a moot point now anyway. “I need you to come to the station with me.”
She wadded the tissue into a ball. “Why? Are you going to do something to stop Marshall?”
“I don’t think I can untell the lie you told, but I do have a job to do.”
“So, what now?” She stood and grabbed her purse. “Do I give a statement or what?” She didn’t get it.
“Emily, I have to officially charge you with vandalism.”
She froze, shock drying up her tears. “W-what?”
“You vandalized MaryBeth’s car. She filed a police report with my office. You just admitted to me that you are the one who did it. I have to charge you.”
“You’re my brother, Hayden Simpson.”
He shook his head. “You’d prefer the lie you told Marshall be true?” He dug in his pocket for his keys. “Sorry, Em, you know better.”
“But I’m your sister!”
“As if you care. Emily, you don’t respect me or my position.” He headed to the door. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.” He stopped in the entryway and shook his key chain. “Bella! Bella!”
She appeared in the walkway. “I’m right here, stop yelling. What’s up?”
“I’m taking Em to the station.”
Bella met them at the door. “Why?” She glanced at his sister’s tear-streaked face and put her arm around Emily, but asked him, “What’s wrong?”
Oh, she couldn’t feel sorry for Emily. “She told Marshall I knew she’d keyed MaryBeth’s car and did nothing. And she did key the car. So I’m charging her with the vandalism and am taking her to the station for her statement.”
Bella released Emily. “You did what? Oh, Em, how could you?”
Emily lowered her head and pulled the tissue to her face again. Hayden sighed. This poor-pitiful-Emily routine was getting old.
“Look at me.” Bella’s voice left no mistaking she wasn’t playing. “That was a mean and horrid thing you did. You like to use the sister-card to your benefit, but you conveniently forget Hayden’s your brother.” She shook her head. “You have no idea how much he does for you. How he goes out of his way to give you the benefit of the doubt. And how do you repay him? Like this?”
“I said I was sorry.” She wouldn’t even meet Bella’s stare.
“Are you, Emily?” Bella put her hands on her hips. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” She sounded so much like his mother it took him aback. Very scary.
Emily raised her head and glared at Bella. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” With her face twisted, she took a step forward, invading Bella’s personal space. “You are nobody. Nothing.”
“Emily!” He couldn’t believe the venom in her voice.
Bella held up her hand. She cocked her head to the side, starin
g deep into Emily’s face. A long moment passed.
Emily took a step back. “What?”
“How long?” Bella’s voice was barely audible.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emily took another step back and turned away from Bella.
“Yes, you do.” The sternness was back in Bella’s voice, but not the harsh edge. “How long?”
He’d had enough. “What are you talking about?”
Bella stared at Emily, who remained still and silent. She sighed. “Emily’s not taking her medication.”
“How do you know?” And then he remembered Remington Wyatt was a forensic psychologist. She had training in mental illnesses and could probably detect if a patient had stopped taking such medications. He spun and faced his sister. “Emily!”
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I’m fine. Don’t need that stuff anyway.”
“You’re bipolar. Not exactly a cold that resolves itself.” Bella’s hands were fisted on her hips. “If you stop taking your medication, you can mentally nosedive.”
How could she have put her health at risk? Hayden nodded to Bella and mouthed the word “thanks” before easing his arm around his sister’s shoulders. Emily trembled. “Come on. We’ll get this all straightened out.”
He opened the door and led her down the stairs to his car. After he secured her in the passenger’s seat, he grabbed his cell and called Emily’s psychiatrist. If there was ever a time for an emergency weekend appointment, this was it.
She couldn’t just have appeared from nowhere.
Rafe let his fingers fly over the keyboard of his laptop. He could find nothing on Bella before three years ago. She’d come to Hopewell from Lake Charles, Louisiana. She’d lived at a rental house for six months there and had good bank references and a driver’s license. No work record. No credit cards. Nothing.
He took a drink of water, keeping his eyes on the computer screen. No further data available. What exactly did that mean?
And before Lake Charles? Not a single thing. It was as if she’d just appeared as a thirty-two-year-old. No background, no history.
She’d apparently been a photographer before then for Daniel Tate to have had one of her prints framed and in his home office.
He’d used every one of the bureau resources to find some record of her. As a photographer. As a woman. Nothing. She wasn’t a member of any of the photography organizations. No record of her having a tax-identification number to sell her work independently. No mention of her in any Louisiana publication.
How could there be nothing on her past? Her childhood or teenage years or even her college days? Surely, something had to be somewhere.
He had a call into the landlady of her rental house in Lake Charles. That was the only thing he had to go on. If someone called him back.
His cell phone chirped. He flipped it open. “Baxter.”
“Rafe.”
He gripped the cell tighter. “Hartlock.”
“Listen, Jack and I are going to do a little sightseeing around the area. Maybe grab a real meal, not from the hick diner. Might check out some of the area nightlife offerings.”
A long pause. “Uh, okay.”
“Just didn’t want you to get worried if you tried to catch us at the motel and didn’t know where we were.”
But didn’t want to invite him along. Not that he’d go, but it would’ve been nice to have had the courtesy extended. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Don’t wait up for us, Dad.” Hartlock laughed, sounding foreign and very fake. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay.” He closed the phone and set it on the desk. Hartlock sure was acting oddly. Very odd.
Perhaps their rudeness was more than that. A covert operation, maybe?
Rafe stood and stretched, chuckling at himself. He must have watched too much television lately. He’d never been a conspiracy theorist before. Still grinning, he glanced out the motel room window. Hartlock’s car wasn’t in the lot.
He opened the door and stepped out, looking up and down the single row of motel-room parking. No sign of the car.
Rafe stepped back inside the motel room and shut the door. Rafe and Devane had already left when they called. And he couldn’t figure out why Hartlock had wanted to talk with Bella so badly. Hartlock had almost asked to talk to Simpson as an afterthought. Didn’t make sense, and things that didn’t make sense bugged Rafe. A lot.
Adding in that he couldn’t uncover background information on Bella, and his unease crept higher and higher.
Even an Internet search for a website on Bella had garnered him nothing. Everybody had a website these days, especially when they had something to sell like photograph prints. He couldn’t even find a listing for her on the top three social media outlets. These days, that was practically unheard of.
Everything about this reeked: not being able to find out anything on Bella, Hartlock’s attitude and actions, the gut feeling making his stomach hurt.
He shut his laptop, grabbed his car keys, and headed out of the motel. He had to get out of the room or go insane. Leaves sat lodged at the connection of windshield vent and engine. The wind cut through his pullover, chilling him deeper than he ever remembered.
Rafe slipped behind the steering wheel, put the car in gear, and headed onto Main Street, no particular destination in mind. He passed the diner and didn’t see any cars he recognized. He kept on and passed the little grocery store and community center. On the left, he spied Simpson’s cruiser parked outside of the police station.
Thought he was off work for the weekend?
Not really considering much of anything, Rafe turned into the police station’s lot and parked. What was he doing? He had no business checking up on Simpson. Maybe the man forgot something personal in his office. Maybe he was called in for an emergency issue. Regardless of the reason, it wasn’t Rafe’s business. He cranked the car again and reached for the gearshift—
His cell phone’s ring startled him. He kept the car in Park and opened his phone. “Baxter.”
“This is Mrs. Cox. You left me a message?” The older lady’s voice cracked over a nasal wheeze.
“Yes, ma’am. As I stated on your voice mail, I’m Rafe Baxter with the FBI. We’re doing a standard investigation on a Bella Miller. She listed you as a reference.”
“This is about Bella? You need to speak up, son.”
Rafe spoke louder. “I’m with the FBI. Bella Miller listed you as a reference. Can you tell me your experience with her?”
“Yes, she lived here for a couple of months.”
He ran his thumbnail against the steering wheel. “And what was your impression, Mrs. Cox?”
“Of Bella?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“A good girl. Nice.”
“Do you happen to know where she worked while she lived in your rental house?”
“Work, you say? Bella didn’t work.”
Rafe gripped the steering wheel. “She didn’t work? How did she pay her bills? I mean, do you know?”
“Who did you say you were again, son?” The elderly lady’s voice sharpened.
“Rafe Baxter with the FBI.”
“Well, you sure don’t know diddly, Mr. Baxter.”
It was agent but whatever. “What do you mean?”
“Bella didn’t have to work.”
Color him confused. “She didn’t?”
“No, sir. She had plenty of insurance money.”
Now he was really confused. “Insurance money?” He hated to sound like a parrot, but this woman’s information matched nothing of what he knew of Bella.
“Yes. From the fire.”
Fire? Maybe they weren’t talking about the same person. “About how old was Bella, Mrs. Cox?�
��
“Late twenties, early thirties, bless her heart.”
Age fit. “What did she look like?”
“She’s about the same height as my great-niece. About five six or seven, I guess.” The woman coughed, phlegm rattling over the connection. “With light brown hair. Such pretty reddish highlights. And she had the most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen. Seafoam green.”
Definitely the same person. Those eyes were unique. But the fire? “What can you tell me about the fire that Bella received insurance payment from? Anything you can share would be most helpful.”
“Well, poor thing, had her house burn down. That’s what took his life.” The woman coughed again. “And although she never said it, bless her heart, it was so painful for her to talk about, I’m betting she got a life insurance payment as well.”
She had totally lost Rafe. Now she wasn’t making a lick of sense. “Her house burned down? Did she happen to say where that was?”
“No, I don’t believe she did. She just told me she moved to Lake Charles to start totally over. Poor thing, she didn’t have but maybe one box of personal stuff she was able to save from the fire.” Mrs. Cox coughed. Then again. “She wasn’t even able to save a single photograph. It still breaks my heart.”
“What did you mean by took his life?”
“Well, I’m talking about her husband, of course. Left that poor young woman a widow.”
He laid his head on the steering wheel and turned off the engine. Every muscle in his body tensed tighter than a bowstring.
Bella had been married?
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value.”
ALBERT EINSTEIN
Woof! Woof! Woof!
Bella set down her bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and pushed to standing, careful not to get her feet twisted up in the blanket. The moonless night surrounded her cabin in darkness, pressing in on all sides. Masking. Smothering. She padded across the living room hardwoods, making her way to the back of the house where Chubbers continued to bark and growl. No mistaking his there’s-someone-out-there-Mom bark.
