Liar, Liar

by Winter Austin

  Closing the door with a soft click, Shane continued to the kitchen. He was feeling every ache in his abdomen and the pull of the stitches, but he wasn’t going to let it hinder him. Come hell or high water, he was putting an end to the deaths in his county and locking up the killer. Today, if at all possible.

  He got the coffee going, and, with an unexplained urge, made French toast. Liza hadn’t eaten when he got her home, either. So at this point, her stomach must be gnawing on her insides. When he had a sufficient stack, he went to wake her.

  A strong knock on his front door brought him to a halt. It was much too early for visitors. And if it was one of his deputies, they would have called, not shown up here.

  He made a pit stop in his room to secure his weapon and then ambled down the hall. Easing the brown-checked curtain aside with the tip of his fingers, he peeked outside.

  Now that was a surprise.

  Holstering his weapon, he unlocked the door.

  “Madam Mayor.”

  The woman gave him a courteous nod. “Sheriff.”

  The mayor was dressed in her normal attire of sharp, pressed slacks and a blouse under a dark blue jacket with Mayor embroidered in white on her left shoulder. They had known each other all their lives, were in the same class through school, and came from farming families. While Shane went off to chase his dreams and then to war, she’d gone to college, got a degree, married well, held a career, and raised her family. Now they both ran in the same political circles.

  And for that, Shane had always respected her.

  “May I come in?”

  Stepping aside, he allowed her entry. She went straight to the living room. Before closing the door, Shane double-checked the perimeter. All clear. He joined the mayor, who had taken station in the center of the floor.

  “Is it safe to ask what brings you here to my humble abode?”

  “Sheriff . . . Shane, you know that I trust your capabilities as the sheriff and have never known you to put the lives and well-being of our public at risk.” She clasped her hands together in front of her body. “Yet, I was asked by the city council and the mayors from the villages and towns around McIntire County to approach you about a serious matter.”

  “Ma’am, if this is in regard to the current string of deaths and fires—”

  She held up her hand. “It is my understanding that an FBI agent has been here for the past few days investigating a fraud case. One, without my knowledge, and two, under your supervision. Is this true?”

  “Where is this going?”

  “Please answer the questions, Sheriff.”

  Crossing his arms, he shifted his weight off his bad side. “True to both.”

  “Am I also correct in understanding that these rash of deaths and fires have started from the moment she arrived?”

  “Now hold on one minute. Two of those deaths happened prior to her arrival and before I knew she was even here.”

  “Is not one of them connected to her?”

  “Ma’am, if I may be so blunt, how the hell do you know so much about these cases?”

  Mountains could not be moved easily, nor could the will of Eider’s mayor. She stared at him, her features hard as stone.

  “I know it would not have been my deputies or Detective O’Hanlon.” Shane’s gaze narrowed on the woman. “The only person bold enough to go behind my back and pull such a stunt is the only one with the ear of the city council.” Eider’s chief of police. Damn prick.

  “Sheriff, I’m here as a friend, not an enemy. Please don’t make this into a war zone.”

  “Let’s stop pussyfooting around the matter and get to it. What are you demanding, Madam Mayor?”

  “I was asked by the agency director to come speak with Agent Bartholomew, as she’s not answering her phone, and . . . uh, you might not be so willing to comply with the agency’s directive.”

  “Why would they think I wouldn’t comply?”

  “Sheriff, they want her to return to Cedar Rapids.”

  “Why wouldn’t I comply?”

  The mayor gave him a hardened stare. “Because you obviously have a personal interest in keeping her here.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I’m on medical leave, making us shorthanded, and all of these deaths are connecting with her case. She’s not leaving.”

  “Actually, Shane.” He turned as Liza entered the room wearing her last set of unruined clothing. She nodded to the mayor and then hugged her body. “I’m leaving on my own accord. Everything that I’ve worked for in the last four years went up in flames in my car last night.” She hung her head, defeat swallowing her whole. “My career is over. I’m resigning before the Bureau can fire me.”

  Taking a bullet to the side was minor compared the punch she landed with that statement. “Liza . . . ”

  She shook her head. Her gaze drifted to the mayor. “Ma’am, you can assure those involved that I’ve obeyed.”

  Had he not willed the iron in his spine, Shane would have crumbled under the weight of her words. She couldn’t leave. Not . . . not until he . . . Until he what?

  “Agent Bartholomew, I’m truly sorry for this, but it’s for the best.”

  “Madam Mayor, I understand.”

  The mayor cleared her throat. “I’ll show myself out.” As she passed Shane, she squeezed his shoulder.

  He didn’t look at her, he didn’t watch her leave, and he sure as hell didn’t care. His gaze never left the woman standing there wearing a crown of shame.

  “Why?” he whispered.

  • • •

  For the duration of her shower last night and before she finally surrendered to sleep, Liza had known what needed done. She didn’t return Montrose’s calls. She had to reset her mind, process what had happened, and sleep, though sleep had been fitful at best.

  What hurt the most was that she had failed all those people who had been victims of Ripley’s schemes and theft, especially the ones who had needlessly died. Even from the grave, Ripley had beaten her.

  And it wasn’t just her failure she’d cried over. She was leaving Shane. There was no logical reason for any part of her to weep at the thought of returning to Cedar Rapids while he remained here, but she could not pursue a relationship with a man married to his career and a memory of what could have been. There was a little boy trapped in his own world waiting for her back in Cedar Rapids. That was her family.

  “Liza, don’t give in like this.”

  “I don’t have a choice. I’ve bombed for the last time. There’s no way in hell Montrose will let me finish this now. It’s time to swallow my pride, admit defeat, and quit. ”

  “It’s not over.”

  She bit her lips to stem the tears building in her eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, she released it slowly. “It is for me. I’m done with being an agent. In fact, I’m so done with the whole law enforcement profession. I can’t handle the stress of it anymore. It’s time to get out while the getting is good.” She choked out a pathetic laugh. “Kurt is going to be thrilled over this.”

  Looking at him pulled apart the tear in her heart more. In a few days, Shane Hamilton had done what no man had before: he’d gotten inside her and opened up the possibility of love.

  Oh God, how could she even think the word? It was too new, too soon. A few shared kisses did not love make. Besides, as long as he continued to hide from his past, there would be no room for her. Liza did not play second fiddle to a ghost. Forget the agony she saw etched in his face. There was no way he could have true feelings for her. Not for an utter failure.

  “I made breakfast,” he said. His features smoothed out, as if he were packing up any hurt she was causing him and storing it away.

  “Not Pop-Tarts, I hope.”

  His chuckle was halfhearted. “Naw.” He ran a hand over his tight curls. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

  “Where’s the nearest car rental place?”

  “Not far. I’ll take you there.”

  No, the last thing she needed was t
o be alone with him in a vehicle. “I’ll ask Xavier or Con. Despite doctor’s orders, I see you’re planning to go into the department, and I won’t keep you from it.”

  “Liza.”

  “Please, Shane, let me have it my way.” She turned her back to him. “Let’s have breakfast. Okay?”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Not too many miles later, Liza sat in Montrose’s office, waiting for Thor’s hammer to drop. There would be a God-awful fallout over this.

  Liza distracted herself with thoughts of Shane. What was he doing? How was he holding up? Did he do something monumentally stupid again and this time do more damage to his wound?

  Was he missing her?

  “Bartholomew.” Montrose’s voice startled Liza out of her mind stroll.

  Sitting up, she clasped her hands together on her lap and met the woman’s strict gaze.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Montrose said. “This whole thing turned into a fiasco. And you want to bail now?” She held up the letter of resignation Liza had long ago composed in the event she finalized the Ripley case.

  “Ma’am, it’s either I resign or the FBI fires me. I choose the former.”

  Montrose slapped the letter on her desk. “What am I supposed to tell the director?”

  “That I take full responsibility for what happened, and to save the Bureau further damage, I’m gone of my own accord.”

  “That’s not how it works, Bartholomew.”

  “It’s how it’s going to work this time, ma’am. I’m done. There’s no need to embarrass yourself, the agency, or me with an internal investigation.”

  “By you resigning right out of the gate, there will be one. It’s protocol in situations like this, to ensure there was no wrongdoing on your part that could lead to lawsuits.”

  Liza tilted her chin higher. “I understand, and they can do what must be done. However, I’m still gone. This fraud case has been nothing but a career ender. I think that’s what he had planned all along.”

  “Did you ever find the money?”

  She shook her head. “He never kept any bank accounts, domestic or international. He had to have kept it with him at all times. And I fear it burned in the house where he’d been living.”

  “Along with anything else he used,” Montrose said.

  Like all of Liza’s case files on him that had been in her car. She should have never left them there, but where else would she have kept them? There were multiple copies here at the office, but the new stuff was gone. Nothing to report. Even the evidence she had pulled from Pamela Frost’s car went up with the rest. Liza had blown it with Shane’s murder investigations as well.

  Montrose sighed. “Now that he’s dead, we’ll never know the truth. Yet the wife baffles me. Why did he deviate from his M.O. and marry?”

  “I don’t know. From the way the woman talked, it was love at first sight for her, and he jumped on the chance. But he wasn’t satisfied with just a woman.”

  “Would you at least write up a report on everything that happened and that you learned? If the McIntire County sheriff’s department ever solves Ripley’s murder, we can add it to the file and close it out for good.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Okay, go, but don’t clear out your desk yet. Let me talk with the director about all of this.”

  Liza stood. She wouldn’t argue with Montrose, yet. Let the SAC do her job, and she would complete her own. When the time came to step up to the plate and explain to the director her reasons, she would do it. With a parting nod, she exited Montrose’s office.

  Not many agents were in office today; some were out doing what they were good at. What Liza had failed at. She avoided the stares of the ones here. Arriving at her desk unsolicited, she sat down and booted up her computer.

  Alone with her thoughts and her electronics, Liza’s mind wandered back to a tall cowboy sheriff and his penchant for Pop-Tarts, and her heart ached.

  “I hope you find whoever killed all those people and set those fires,” she whispered.

  Maybe one day he’d tell her he did.

  Maybe one day.

  • • •

  Shane hadn’t pegged Liza for a woman to give up so easily. She’d been doggedly determined to find the bastard who’d brought her down here to McIntire County in the first place, and then to figure out why he’d been killed. Why had she given up when the screws were put to her?

  The sucker punch for him was her final parting admission; she was done with law enforcement for good. For a sane man who loved his job—most of the time—that should be a reality kick to the groin. If she was done with it, she would have no call to be tied to a man who had no desire to quit it. That in and of itself should make him feel better about her leaving him.

  But it didn’t.

  “If you keep leaving me here to figure this out on my own, I’ll have to start electrocuting you.”

  Shane glared at his best friend. “I don’t need any lip from you, Irishman.” He shook a finger at the man across from him. “I’m still pissed at your boss.”

  “You have no proof he contacted the FBI director and told the mayor.”

  “Doesn’t matter. What the mayor didn’t say spoke loudly to me.”

  Con set the notes he’d been composing on Shane’s desk. “Do I need to have a frank discussion with you like you did with a few people?”

  Shane frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Are you in love with Liza?”

  Someone shoot him. He was not having this conversation with Con. Ever.

  “Aye, there’s that deer in the headlights look I’m all too familiar with. You are.”

  “You’re nuts. Then again, you’re Irish, and I’ve been told they’re all a wee bit crazy.”

  Con grinned. “Must be the Scottish blood. They’re crazier bastards than us.” He sobered. “Tell me the truth, boy, are you?”

  “I barely know the woman. How can I be in love with her?”

  “Jolie knew nothing about Xavier and look at them today. Planning a wedding.”

  “They’re kids. I’m old and beyond that.”

  Con snorted. “You’re not that old.” He leaned against the desk. “Nic told me about the ring. And she’s just curious enough to be a pest if you don’t spill the story. I’m thinking it has a lot to do with why you never got attached to any woman until Liza.”

  “That’s in the past, and I want it to stay there.”

  “Liar. Don’t think we’ve all haven’t speculated why every April at this time you disappear for a day or two and come out looking like you drove to hell and duked it out with the devil.”

  “You can keep your speculations to yourselves. What’s mine is mine, and that’s the way it stays.”

  “I’ve never known you to be so damn secretive, Shane. What gives?”

  “Con, I didn’t press you about your past. I expect the same regard for mine.” Shane pushed to his feet and skirted around his desk to head for the door.

  “Shane, sit yer arse down. We’re not finished.”

  “Until I work these kinks out of my neck and back, we are. I need something to drink.” With that, he quit the room. A Pop-Tart, one of those chocolate fudge ones, is what I really need. Actually, the whole dang box would be nice. And wouldn’t you know it, he never restocked the drawer.

  He went to pour a cup of coffee and stopped. No, not feeling it. He put the pot back on the burner and turned from the little station. He wanted something stronger, more potent. Something he hadn’t drank in sixteen years. He’d already broken one vow, what the hell was another?

  “Sheriff?”

  His gaze clashed with Jennings’s.

  “Are you okay?” his dispatcher asked.

  “What have you learned on that project I set you on?”

  Jennings frowned but took the change in subject in stride like he was supposed to. “Still working on it. But what I do have you’re not going to like.”

  “And?” Sha
ne asked when his deputy didn’t elaborate.

  “The file Agent Bartholomew had sent was on Neil Lundy.”

  “So? She was covering her bases.”

  “Which is fine, but there was a corruption code on that file. She wasn’t given the whole picture.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jennings picked up a piece of paper and rounded his station to hand it to Shane. “What I mean is, Neil Lundy has things to hide.”

  Shane released a slow breath as he read. One Neil J. Lundy, age twenty, had been arrested in 1991 on sexual assault charges. He had raped a fifteen-year-old boy.

  “What the hell? Con!”

  His friend hurried out of his office. “What?”

  Shane thrust out the page. “Read this.”

  Con’s face leached of color the more he read. “How the hell did he get on the school board with this on his record?”

  “Jennings, call that man into this department. Now. If he gives you any shit, patch him through to me.” Shane hobbled back to his office.

  Con followed him in. “What are you doing?”

  “What I should have done the moment Liza told me the news about Gene’s extracurricular activities.” He dialed Drummond’s cell number.

  Luck be the lady!

  “Drummond.”

  “Doc, I hope you’re not busy.”

  “Well, Sheriff, actually, I am. Being a doctor and all.”

  “Get unbusy. We’ve got some business to discuss.”

  “If you insist. Give me a moment.”

  For Con’s benefit, Shane punched the speakerphone.

  “Sheriff, are you at the department after my explicit orders for you to not be?” Drummond asked.

  “Doc, the mayor, and the esteemed chief of police got Agent Bartholomew sent back to Cedar Rapids. At this point, I don’t have a choice with four open murder cases.”

  In the background a door closed, and then Drummond grunted as if sitting down. “I’m officially unbusy. Now what is so damned important?”

  “Have you finalized the autopsy results on Donovan and Pamela Frost?”