Burden of Proof

by DiAnn Mills

  “Don’t say it,” she said.

  He chuckled.

  She shivered. He sensed the same attraction.

  21

  JASON LIFTED A REAR WINDOW from the pastor’s office that faced the graveyard. His gun was in his waistband behind his back, and he prayed it stayed right there. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he climbed out and crept to the east side of the church, where April had Miss Ella’s car idling. He gently opened the front passenger door of the car and crouched low.

  “Head to Main Street and turn right out of town.”

  “Where is your truck?” she said.

  “Five miles beyond the city limits, not too far from my construction office.”

  “Nice long walk. How’s the migraine? Forgot to ask earlier.”

  “Imitrex nailed it.” A nagging throb persisted at the base of his skull, but he wouldn’t mention it. He’d take more meds when they finished tonight’s errands.

  “Neither of us can continue at this pace without sleep.”

  “We’ve become nocturnal. Bats, owls, coons, coyotes, possums. There’s a lot of us.”

  “And bad guys, give or take a few.”

  His thoughts about Russell’s murder, Isabella’s kidnapping, and the charges against him screamed unfair, as though God were against him. He dug his fingers into his fists and prayed that his desire for vengeance against Willis would dissipate. “Thanks for talking me down with Willis. If not for you, I’d have killed him.”

  “It’s part of my job as a negotiator, remember?”

  “To have such a rough beginning, we get along most of the time.”

  “About 30 percent. You can crawl up from the floorboard. Nothing but black countryside out here.”

  He gave her directions to the dirt road where his truck was nestled deep in thick brush.

  “Jason, have you told me everything about the night Russell was killed?”

  “Think so. But I must have forgotten something,” he said. “Willis threatened Russell, and while I don’t know for sure, it has to be about finding Billie and Zack. Have you run backgrounds on all the deputies?”

  “I sent the request to Simon. But since I’m not working in an official capacity, I may be delayed in receiving the info or anything at all. The FBI has a resource called the FIG—Field Intelligence Group. The techs have access to security intel. If there’s anything out there on Willis or his deputies, they’ll find it. The problem is if I’m able to access it.”

  “By now, I’m sure my name is deep in their trenches as a suspect in a murder case and nabbing a federal agent.” Jason thought through the years of small-town living with Willis. “How about later I write down what I can remember about Willis over the past few years. You can send it to Simon. Have him analyze it.”

  “I like you.” She flashed a smile his way. “I mean the way you process things.”

  He chuckled. “I’m trying to shove emotion out of the way and look at Willis like he’s a house to build with far too many structural demands. His support beams are his weak spots.”

  “You majored in architecture and what else?”

  “Ready for this?”

  “Sure. I asked, didn’t I?”

  “Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic. Thought I might be an interpreter or translator, but I sensed God wanting me to build homes and shape character through day-to-day living.” He shrugged. “So here I am in Sweet Briar.”

  “The FBI could use your skills.”

  “Fugitive turned agent?” He laughed, and it momentarily released the tension.

  “Does anyone really know you?”

  A hint of sadness settled. “Lily.”

  “I bet you’ll find a woman to love again.”

  “Maybe if I’m not scared off.” He instructed her to take a series of turns. “Take this tractor path on the right. Watch, there’s a ditch. No headlights.” When she’d driven the short distance, he asked her to stop. “I’m going to retrieve the night-vision goggles from my truck. Will take about ten minutes.”

  “I’ll contact Simon while you’re gone.”

  “For updates?” He hesitated. Hostage negotiators performed their jobs well because they knew how to gain the fugitive’s confidence. She disagreed with him on not allowing the FBI to handle the investigation. Her words of belief could be a ploy. “What if I asked for your phone? Would you argue?”

  April dug into Miss Ella’s purse for the burner phone. She held it out to him. “I’ve already bent the law for you. If I haven’t arranged for the FBI to pick you up by now, don’t you think I can be trusted?”

  He swallowed hard. Was he being smart or alienating his best ally? “Keep it. I’ll call or text if there’s a problem.”

  “I’d rather go with you.”

  “Sorry. If both of us are shot, who’s going to get the truth out?” He left the car and jogged across the fall grasses leading into a pine grove where he’d hidden his truck. His body protested the hour after hour of stress. How long did he expect the adrenaline to flow? Without rest soon, the migraine had reason to stop him cold again.

  Using the flashlight app on his phone, he explored the surroundings and wove his way to his truck. After retrieving the goggles, he shut down the light and walked back to April. This time he took over driving to the construction office. “What did Simon say?”

  “He didn’t pick up. I checked Google Earth while you were gone. The ground around your office is open, flat,” she said. “There are no woods either. Where do we hide the car?”

  “I’m having you park about a mile down from the office to wait for me.”

  “Jason, I’m a trained agent.” Her tone piled on a ton of irritation. “What makes you think you have expertise to handle an ambush?”

  “It’s enough to say I grew up hunting and tracking. Avoiding being detected by an animal is no different from outsmarting Willis.”

  “I’ve seen where that’s gotten you.” She punched each word.

  “April, I’m through putting your life in danger.”

  “You need backup. Any other move is ludicrous. I’ve been in these kinds of situations before.”

  “Don’t pull the investigator card. Won’t work.”

  “I came to help, and you deceived me.”

  “You figured out my plan when you saw the terrain. I’m going alone.”

  She lifted her chin, and he’d have laughed if the circumstances had been different.

  “All right. I’ll make a concession,” he said. “Give me ten minutes to get there and about fifteen to look around. I want to check my office floor and outside for glass. Also see if the office’s been compromised. Then I’ll text you.”

  “That means in twelve minutes I’m walking your way.”

  “Twenty-five, and I’ll text.”

  “Twelve minutes.”

  He gave up and drove past the office. It looked deserted. Nearly a mile down, he turned left and parked the car on a grass and dirt road. He switched off the lights. “Keep an eye out.”

  She flashed him her disapproval. He ignored her and climbed a fence to a pasture bordering one side of his warehouse. The fence also housed the orneriest bull this side of Texas. He wanted neither the bull’s horns nor a bullet in his backside.

  He needed to hurry before April decided to follow him sooner than his instructions. The only way to get past the guilt of blaming himself for Russell’s death was to dig up the evidence Willis thought he’d buried. The Beretta tucked into the back of his jeans waistband felt foreign. Would he use it if necessary? A decision he didn’t want to make.

  Jason jumped the fence beside his construction warehouse. The building and surrounding area still appeared deserted. If anyone lay in wait, they were invisible in his night-vision goggles.

  Dread hit him—Willis might have changed the locks on his office. Or reset the alarm.

  He no longer had his original phone with the alarm company’s app. But he had a master password memorized. Thank goodness he had connectivity.
He downloaded the app on the burner phone and logged into the alarm system. Sure enough, Willis or someone had changed some settings. How had Willis obtained access . . . unless Russell had given it to him?

  Jason pushed the goggles back on his head and made modifications to remove all codes except his foreman’s. The FBI already had this number, so what did it matter to download the app? Too late to rethink his actions. He’d toss this phone for the third burner later. Entering his own business could backfire. He stole around his warehouse to the rear door of his office. After inserting the key into the lock, he turned the knob.

  Quiet greeted him, confirming he’d successfully disabled the alarm via the app.

  Using a flashlight from his office drawer, he checked the broken window. Repaired, as he expected. How had someone located a piece of glass this size and replaced it late at night? Another critical piece of the crime. He checked his desk drawer and found it a disorganized mess. Shining the light onto the concrete floor, he saw it had been swept clean. He brushed his fingers near the floor and the wall. No glass slivers. Jason turned to where Russell had fallen. His breath caught. The dark stains on the floor brought it all back, a hideous reminder of blood first spewing from Russell’s arm and the second bullet exploding into his chest.

  He shone the flashlight on the wall where the first bullet had entered and ran his fingers over the area. A slight indentation revealed the hole had been patched and painted. Moving to the office closet, he found the patching compound and paint can were not sitting on the storage shelf but on the floor.

  Willis or whoever had killed Russell might think he could walk free with a flawless plan, but arrogance paved the way for mistakes.

  Jason stood from the cold floor. For a moment yesterday afternoon, he’d doubted his faith. Why would God take Lily and Russell and endanger Isabella? So many things he didn’t understand. For certain, God had used April to stop him from destroying not only Willis’s life but his own. Never again.

  Help me to honor You. And make decisions so no one else is hurt.

  An empty space beside his file cabinet indicated his safe was missing. Whoever swiped it would only find his business licenses and five hundred dollars in ten- and twenty-dollar bills, used to help out some of his crew when the stretch between paychecks and poor money management left their families without necessities.

  He’d text April to join him once he double-checked no one had walked up while he was inside. Leaving the office through the rear, he remotely set the alarm and stayed in the shadows. Eeriness nipped at his heels.

  “Jason. Put your hands up.”

  22

  JASON PLANTED HIS FEET on the sidewalk leading to the driveway and raised his hands. “Kevin, are you sure you want to fall into the same sty as Willis?”

  “Listen, you fool. I’m trying to keep you alive. Figured if I stuck around here long enough, you’d be stupid enough to show up. So I waited. You just had to see for yourself the evidence’s gone.”

  Jason heard the wariness in Kevin’s voice. “Can I turn around? Or are you here to take me in?”

  “Haven’t decided. Put that gun on the ground. Then keep your hands above your head.”

  “We’re friends. We share the same faith.” He lowered his hands to his thighs and slowly faced Kevin. “Or you’d have shot me when I jumped the fence.”

  “Your stubbornness is going to get you killed.”

  “Is this how you want to pave the future for your sons? Have them afraid of the law? Worse yet, pick up Willis’s torch and follow in his footsteps? ’Cause it won’t get any better.”

  “My family means everything to me.” Kevin’s voice dropped a notch. Fear crusted his words.

  “Send them away. Tell Willis I threatened them.”

  Kevin clenched his fists. “I’ve already stepped over the line. He has eyes everywhere. Ordered your place searched, though I know he didn’t find a thing.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Drove to Woodville. Said he had a meeting with his attorney before giving additional testimony to the FBI in Houston.”

  The gnawing problem persisted. Kevin showed up at too many scenes . . . always urging Jason to turn himself in. The suspicion cut raw into his heart and mind. “Does Willis have other men on his payroll?”

  “Who knows.”

  “Remember our senior year when we played Woodville for district? Willis got vertigo. Couldn’t stand up. We thought we’d lost the title, but we played and won the championship. Without him.”

  “You made your point. My family is my life. I’m not doing a thing that might get one of them hurt.”

  “How about talking to the FBI?”

  “Willis has a way of eliminating troublemakers—and keeping his hands clean in the process. Enough of this. Find anything in your office?”

  “New window. Swept floors. Patched wall. Missing safe.”

  “I have no idea who cleaned up the crime scene.”

  “You were there!” Jason tried to shove the exhaustion mixed with bitterness into some place manageable. Instead he mushroomed with the injustice sprouting up like weeds. Jason breathed in and out. “You told me to take Isabella and hide. Are you going to look the other way again when he intimidates or kills the next person?”

  “What’s he want from you?”

  “I’m not giving that up.”

  “Must be about Billie and Zack. Do you know where they are?”

  Was Kevin attempting to be one step ahead of Willis or betraying Jason? “No clue. Are you going to help me put Willis behind bars?”

  Kevin gestured to the once-broken window. “Show me how when everything I have is at risk.”

  “Isn’t God bigger than Willis?”

  “I can’t stretch myself any more than I already have.”

  “At least talk to an FBI agent who can bring justice to our families and those we care about.”

  “Justice doesn’t mean a thing if my family’s dead.”

  Something had gone wrong with Jason’s plan. She’d decided to wait eight minutes, but the time had passed on to ten. He said it would take him ten minutes to walk to his office. April texted him, and when he didn’t respond, she drove Miss Ella’s Buick past the construction office. A light mounted on a tall pole outside a warehouse revealed only buildings. She drove back to the original spot, pushed the clutch, downshifted, and parked.

  Leaving the wide-brimmed hat resting on the seat, she grabbed her Glock and hurried to the pasture. If Jason found it necessary to move along the inside of the fence, she’d do the same. The lack of stars and a cloud-hidden moon concealed any animals, though she assumed there were none. Tugging up on the barbed wire while bending to crawl through it in Miss Ella’s dress and SAS shoes, stuffed with Charmin, brought back memories of physical challenges at Quantico. A fence in East Texas should be a piece of cake. As long as she didn’t rip any of Miss Ella’s clothing.

  She managed a brisk pace, listening for ominous sounds, like a stirring of activity at the construction office and warehouse ahead. At the first sign of a headlight, she’d drop to the ground. Her phone vibrated, and she stopped to check it. A report from Simon about Willis Lennox. Good, she must have received clearance. She would read it once she confirmed Jason hadn’t gotten into trouble.

  A rustling and a snort caused her to whirl around. What in the world? Her fingers found the light on her phone. A bull with horns a yard wide snorted behind her and was gaining speed.

  April stifled a scream and raced to the fence. She stumbled, the shoes hindering every step. Kicking them off, she kept her momentum. Needlelike brush pierced her feet and caused her to wince. Something squishy eased up between her toes. The bull heaved closer, his hooves pounding into the ground. The dratted dress tangled between her legs. If given the opportunity, she’d jerk it over her head and hurl it at the bull. She spotted the outline of the fence.

  Just a few more feet.

  No way would her obituary read she’d died of a bull attack
while aiding a fugitive in East Texas.

  She reached for the fence post. The barbed wire tore at her hands and legs. Miss Ella’s dress ripped. Still she scaled the fence much faster than she’d slithered through it. The bull stopped short of the fence, his hooves grinding his agitation and his massive body pushing against the structure intended to keep him in and idiots out. For a moment, she feared he might topple the fence and continue his pursuit.

  She left him to his distress, but her flesh stung. A horrid smell met her nose, and she realized what she’d stepped in. After cleaning her feet on the rough grasses, she picked up her original pace to find Jason—outside the fence.

  What a story—full of bull.

  Clearing her mind and willing her pulse to decelerate, she focused on taking her stance beside the warehouse. Stones dug into the bottoms of her feet and slowed her progress. She crept along the side of the building, to the corner at the rear. Silhouettes showed two men. Once closer, she recognized Jason’s build. He stood with his back to her and faced a second man, Kevin Viner. They appeared to be alone. Drawing her weapon, April bent and crept closer behind Jason.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” Kevin said with his gun holstered. “If it were only me involved, I’d be helping you hide and searching for the evidence you need.”

  “Kevin, you’ve made three commitments in your life—to Jesus, to your wife, and to uphold the law. Which of these dictate blindly following Willis’s lead?”

  April questioned if Jason should be a politician or a preacher.

  “I need a favor,” Jason said.

  “Better be an easy one.”

  Jason shifted to one leg. “Find out who replaced the window.”

  “Are you deaf? Haven’t you heard a single thing I’ve said?”

  April chose to speak up. “Deputy Viner, stand down.”

  “Who’s out there?” Kevin pulled his gun.

  “Drop it nice and easy,” she said. “We’ve met.” She took cautious steps with her gun on target. When Kevin obliged, she walked toward him. “What side of the law do you walk on, Deputy?”