by Debra Webb
“Considering the nature of the investigation in which she was involved, we have good reason to believe that case may be the motive behind her murder.”
Tension rifled through Bree. The Bureau wasn’t always so forthcoming with local law enforcement, at least not at this level. But everyone present wanted this crime solved—fast.
“This briefing,” Ortiz went on, “is need-to-know only. Any leaks could jeopardize the homicide investigation. I don’t have to spell it out. Though the Bureau will be handling the main thrust of the investigation, support from the sheriff’s department as well as other local police departments will greatly enhance our ability to get the job done under the circumstances.”
Around the long conference table the faces remained grim but the determination to do just as Ortiz suggested was thick in the air.
“For several months,” Ortiz went on, “Agent Grainger has been investigating the disappearance and whereabouts of Vincent Del Gardo.”
Next to Bree, Callie MacBride caught her breath. The sound was so soft Bree was reasonably sure she was the only one to hear it. From the corner of her eye Bree studied Callie. Her face had gone deathly pale, her features even tighter with tension.
Before Bree could analyze the reaction, Ortiz drew her attention once more.
“…based in Las Vegas, Vincent is the head of the Del Gardo crime family. Nearly three years ago he escaped custody and we’ve been trying to find him ever since. Agent Grainger, after months of intensive work, had tracked him to the Four Corners area.”
Bree tried not to let her attention drift back to the woman beside her, but it was hard not to. As Callie reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, her hand shook. Bree reminded herself that Callie and Grainger may have been very close friends as well as colleagues. Her reaction might simply be stronger than most due to the personal connection.
“Agent Grainger’s investigation had revealed that Del Gardo had purchased a large estate in the area. Unfortunately, before we could close in on him, the estate was sold to a civilian, Griffin Vaughn, who has no ties to Del Gardo. We can only assume, of course, at this point that Agent Grainger’s death is somehow related to her investigation. But Del Gardo has a reputation for erasing any presumed nuisance in just this manner.”
Ortiz leaned forward, braced his hands on the back of his chair. “We will get this bastard and whoever he hired to take down our agent and friend—one way or another. As badly as we want Del Gardo for many other reasons, right now our primary goal is to determine who murdered Agent Grainger.”
The escalating tension seemed to press all the air out of the room. All present wanted to do exactly as Ortiz suggested. To find this killer. Now.
Ortiz briefly reviewed the few details they had on the Grainger investigation already. No real evidence had been discovered at the scene. The hope was that Grainger’s body would reveal crucial evidence and lead them to her killer. At last Ortiz got to the 9-1-1 call.
“Are we ready to listen to the call?” he asked Callie.
She stiffened as if she’d been tugged from deep thought, then cleared her throat. “Yes.” She gestured to Olivia. “As you may have already heard,” the lab’s head forensic scientist began as she stood and cleared her throat again, “Burt Hayes, a Ute guide at the Tribal Park, found…the body and made a call to the Towaoc Police Department. During that same time the county’s 9-1-1 system received a call as well. This one from a male caller who did not identify himself.”
A flurry of movement and muttered words at the other end of the long table drew the room’s collective attention there.
Agent Parrish shot to his feet, as did Agent Tom Ryan.
“Sorry. I…I’m all thumbs today,” Parrish stammered. He grabbed his overturned coffee cup. Mopped at the spill with a lone napkin.
“It’s all right.” Ryan waved his hands as if erasing the incident. “We’re all out of sorts today. Anyway, you’re the one who caught the spill.”
Coffee had dripped onto Parrish’s khaki slacks.
“Excuse me.” He shook his head in disgust. “I’ll…I’ll be right back. Tom can bring me…up to speed,” he said to Ortiz and the room at large as he hurried toward the door.
Ortiz didn’t look pleased but carried on. “Let’s hear that recording.”
Callie nodded to Olivia, who pressed the necessary buttons to play the recorded call.
The 9-1-1 operator’s practiced greeting resonated first. A moment of silence. Then, “I need to report a…murder.” The voice sounded distant, as if the mouthpiece of the phone was too far away or partially covered. Some muffled sounds and something like, “Oh, God.” The male voice continued, “At the Ute Reservation Tribal Park…the body’s…oh, God.” During the silence that followed, the operator asked the caller to identify himself and that he provide additional details. The caller severed the connection.
As the recording ended the room remained dead silent.
Agent Tom Ryan abruptly pushed out of his chair. “Play that again.”
Callie stiffened.
Bree studied first the woman beside her, who seemed suddenly even more flustered, then the man. The cold fury on his face was different than before…had moved to a new level.
Olivia obliged and replayed the recording. Not a single word was uttered by anyone present as the clearly emotional caller’s voice filled the air. There was something familiar about his voice, Bree realized this time. The first time she’d been focused on the information relayed. This time she analyzed the voice. Bree knew that voice. Had heard it before.
As the recording ended Agent Parrish reentered the room. That was when Bree recalled where and when she’d heard that voice.
“It was you.”
Bree’s gaze snapped to the woman next to her.
“You made the call,” Callie said, the accusation directed at Agent Ben Parrish.
Agent Ryan stared at the man who’d stalled halfway back to his chair. “What’s going on here, Ben?”
All hell broke loose then.
Dylan Acevedo and Parrish almost came to blows. Patrick and Jacob pulled the men apart with Ortiz’s assistance.
The already suffocating tension in the room rocketed to a whole other stratosphere even as Ortiz demanded order. The silence that instantly replaced the chaos was even more unnerving.
What was going on here? Bree couldn’t believe what she was hearing and seeing. Agent Parrish had discovered the body? Why would he conceal that fact? Why had he left the scene?
“You want to explain this?” Ortiz suggested, his voice hoarse from shouting.
Whatever was going on with the three agents at the other end of the table wasn’t good. Bree’s first thought was that if Parrish was guilty of something he could have made a run for it as soon as he realized the 9-1-1 recording would be played. But he hadn’t. He’d come back into the room knowing what he would face.
“I received a text message,” Parrish explained, his tone emotionless, exhausted, “that I should meet Julie this morning.” He shrugged, his shoulders rounded with the weight of his confession. “The number the text came from raised my suspicions immediately since it showed up as unknown. Julie’s number is on my contact list. And when I sent a text asking her to call me it was ignored.” He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself.
“I hadn’t heard from her in weeks and I wasn’t about to risk ignoring the request. I was aware that she was deep into her investigation.” He heaved a heavy breath. “I figured she needed me and had used whatever means available to contact me. So I went. And…” He dragged a ragged breath into his lungs. “She was dead. Had been for a couple of days.”
“And you didn’t call it in and stay with her?” Ryan demanded. “What the hell were you thinking? How could you leave her like that?”
“What’s the motive?” Dylan demanded. “Why would anyone send you a text to meet her? That doesn’t make sense. Why you? You’re not involved in the Del Gardo investigation.”
More of that consuming silence pressed in on Bree’s chest as everyone in the room waited for Parrish to give a reasonable explanation for his actions.
Parrish shook his head. “I don’t know. I can only assume it was a setup.” He looked around the room. “One that appears to have worked.”
The tension between the three agents erupted into another heated exchange, only this time without the physical tactics.
“Enough!” Ortiz commanded. He held up his hands and waited for silence.
The glare-off between Ryan, Parrish and the visiting Acevedo brother would have cut through steel.
“We will get to the bottom of this,” Ortiz promised. His openly suspicious gaze nailed Parrish. “We’ll start by having you turn over your cell phone, Agent. If there’s any chance we can trace the number where that text came from, we might have a starting place.”
Parrish tossed his cell onto the table. “Be my guest. I have nothing to hide.” He said the last sentence with considerably less conviction than the first.
“Yeah, right,” Dylan muttered.
Ortiz let his glare speak for itself. When the moment had passed, he doled out assignments. “Detective Hunter,” he said as his attention rested on Bree, “talk to your contacts among the Ute reservation residents. See if anyone has heard any rumblings regarding the murder of a federal agent. Someone, somewhere will have heard something.”
“Yes, sir.” Bree could definitely do that. The murder of a federal agent was a major deal, even in Colorado’s so-called murder capital. There would be gossip.
Ortiz gave Patrick the same basic order. The agents in the room would attempt to reconstruct Grainger’s activities to date. Another briefing would be scheduled in forty-eight hours or sooner if necessary.
As the meeting was dismissed, Bree watched the agents fall into their respective groups. Callie and her lab team huddled to discuss strategy. Agents Tom Ryan and Dylan Acevedo spoke quietly but tensely with Ortiz.
Ben Parrish stood alone, accused and outside the circle of his peers. Bree didn’t know the guy, but she couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. Surely if he was guilty of wrongdoing he’d have made a run for it. To stand here and face all this…it was hard.
But then, she didn’t know him. The one thing she did know was that time would tell. If Parrish was involved with Grainger’s murder, given time, the investigation would nail him.
The lab folks began to filter from the room. When Callie would have followed her team Tom Ryan stopped her at the door. Callie had been visibly stressed to the max all through the briefing, but her reaction to Ryan was different. The same fierce tension but with another layer. Bree couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but there was definite tension between the two that transcended the case.
“I guess you’ll have to give me a ride back to my vehicle.”
Patrick’s voice tugged Bree from her disturbing musings. “Sure.” The sooner she was free of his constant analysis the better.
She made her way out of the building and to her SUV. Stopping by the office before going home was essential. She would have messages and she needed to put some of her conclusions into notes. And she wanted to see what she could find on Parrish, if anything.
“I was thinking,” Patrick said as they loaded into her SUV.
She could pretend not to hear him but he’d only repeat himself. “Thinking what?” That he couldn’t wait to be rid of her? If so, they were on the same page.
“We should coordinate our efforts. There’s a lot about this investigation that will fall under Bureau domain and we won’t be privy to. But what we can do is put out feelers, follow up on any leads and rattle cages. That effort would be far better served if we work at it jointly.”
So much for going her own way.
She’d spent the last eight years attempting to put the past behind her. Now the primary part she’d tried to avoid was smack dab in the middle of her present.
And there wasn’t any way to avoid the momentum-gaining collision she felt with every fiber of her being was barreling her way.
Chapter Four
Bree parked in front of her sister’s home and shut off the engine. She was exhausted. Mentally more so than physically. She leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes.
How was she going to get through this?
It was bad enough a member of law enforcement was dead, but being joined at the hip with Patrick for the duration of the investigation was nearly more than she could bear.
After eight years she’d hoped the past wasn’t going to catch up to her.
Boy, had she been wrong.
She opened her eyes and peered at her sister’s home. Her son was waiting for her. She couldn’t keep sitting out here trying to pull herself together. She had to go inside and pretend that she hadn’t spent the day with the father he didn’t know.
That she wasn’t lying to him for her own selfish reasons.
And she wasn’t…was she?
“No more stalling.”
She climbed out of her SUV and trudged up the front walk, then the steps. It was dark and she was so tired. Maybe a long, hot bath and some quality time with her son would rejuvenate her.
Tabitha met her at the door, her face clouded with worry as always. “Are you okay? That federal agent’s murder has been all over the news this evening. Is that the case you’re working on?”
Bree nodded, hoped her sister didn’t ask any more than that. She couldn’t talk about the investigation and she didn’t want to talk about having to spend time with Patrick.
“I’ll bet you haven’t eaten all day.” Tabitha took hold of Bree’s arm and tugged her inside. “I’ll warm you up some soup. Peter’s already eaten and done his homework. He’s watching TV with Layla.”
Before Bree could ask, Tabitha tacked on, “And don’t worry. Layla and I talked. There won’t be any more discussions about you know who.”
Bree appreciated that. “Thanks, sis.”
The door had scarcely closed behind her when Peter rushed to give his mom a hug. Bree missed her son so when a day dragged on and on like this one. She mussed his dark hair and kissed the top of his head. “I hope you’ve been good for your aunt Tabitha.”
Peter dragged his mom to the kitchen table and reviewed his day’s work with her while Tabitha warmed up the soup. Peter was not only a talented little artist he was a bright pupil. His work ethic and grades continued to make her proud. He was such a good boy.
But he was growing up. Before long he wouldn’t want to share his schoolwork with her, much less talk about his day.
Maybe she had made a mistake. He yearned so for a man in his life. His uncle Roy tried to be there for him but Tabitha’s husband worked for an oil company and spent more time away from home than not.
When Peter had been a baby and then a toddler, Bree had been totally convinced that her decision was the right one. But after what she’d gone through with Jack and now as she watched her son grow into a young man, she questioned every decision she had made.
By the time Peter had been drawn back to the television by his favorite show, Tabitha had placed a bowl of steaming potato soup along with a glass of chocolate milk in front of Bree.
“Eat,” her sister ordered. “And tell me what I can do to clear those worry lines from your face. You make me worry.” She scrubbed at her brow. “And God knows I don’t need any more lines.”
Bree had to smile, even if only a little. Her sister had taken over the role of mother after their mom had died. Bree had been only fourteen. Four years older, Tabitha had put off going to college to stay home and help their father raise Bree. College had gone by the wayside permanently when Tabitha met Roy. Love at first sight. But Tabitha’s had been a good choice. She had a wonderful husband who treated her with respect.
Bree picked up her spoon and stirred her soup. She really had no appetite. Who could eat when she kept thinking about Julie Grainger lying alone in that desolate place for two days before she was found.
“What worry?” Bree countered her sister’s suggestion. “I have no worries.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh, that’s right. Denial. They have therapy and drugs for that disorder, little sister.”
Bree might as well come clean. Tabitha had ways of prying until she dug up the truth. She was relentless when she picked up the scent of something. Why waste the energy trying to outmaneuver her?
After a quick check to see that Peter was fully occupied with the TV, Bree spilled her guts. She carefully worded each revealing statement so that even if her son did overhear something he’d have no idea who she was talking about.
“You were with him the entire day?”
Bree nodded and forced a spoonful of her favorite soup past her lips. She didn’t feel hungry but she recognized the need to refuel her body. The next few days and weeks would require all the strength she could muster.
Tabitha chewed her lip thoughtfully. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Bree wasn’t sure she wanted to hear her sister’s assessment. “A pain in the butt, that’s what I know it means.”
Tabitha dismissed that explanation with a wave of her hands. “It means he still has feelings for you.” Before Bree could protest that statement, Tabitha went on, “He’s using this case as an excuse to get close to you again. To find out what you’ve been up to all these years. Like you said, he could assign one of his deputies to work with you.”
All these years. Bree was sick to death of thinking about all these years. “This isn’t an episode of your favorite soap. This is real life and the case is why we’re stuck together. My guess is that if he’s really as curious as he seems it’s only because he wants to hear how miserable my life has been. Men are like that.” She licked her spoon and pointed it at her sister. “They want to believe your life is crap without them even if they don’t want to be in your life. It’s some sort of genetic obsession.”
