by Laura Scott
“I see it.” Julianne still couldn’t shake the nagging worry that someone else was helping Otwell and Royce in the quest for revenge. Then again, why bother sticking around at all? If they really had a cop working with them, they could easily have gotten far away from Clover County where they had a much higher likelihood of getting caught.
“Do you want to call for backup?” she asked as Brody shut down the computer.
“No, not yet. Let’s see if we find anything, first.” His expression remained grim as he stood and rounded the desk. “Let’s hurry, though. It would be nice to try and get there before darkness falls.”
Julianne bit down the urge to once again offer Brody some sort of physical comfort as she and Thunder led the way back outside to where they’d left her borrowed vehicle. He was taking this case against Nate extremely personally.
She hated to see him suffering for mistakes that had happened a long time ago. Mistakes that included standing up for Nate, rather than believing in her, the woman he’d claimed he loved. Her heart squeezed in her chest and it hit her, then, how much she still cared about him.
Making her realize how difficult it would be to find the strength to leave Brody for a second time.
* * *
Brody gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to corral his deep-seated anger. He was furious with Nate Otwell and Kurt Royce.
But even more so at himself.
Why hadn’t he anticipated that Nate would go back to his old ways? Why hadn’t he thought about the fact that it wouldn’t take much, say meeting up with an old friend like Kurt Royce, to drag him back down to a life of crime?
What if they never managed to catch up with Otwell and Royce? The thought of the two of them escaping from the law was almost too much to bear.
He glanced over at Julianne, wondering why she was being so nice to him. He didn’t deserve her support.
Or her friendship.
And for sure he didn’t deserve her love.
Because no matter how hard he tried to justify his actions six years ago, he should have trusted her instincts. At least where Nate was concerned. Granted he didn’t believe his former friend had anything to do with Lilly’s disappearance but Julianne had been right not to trust Nate. After all, Nate had certainly proven himself to be a hard-core criminal.
“Brody.” Julianne placed her hand on his forearm. “Please try to trust in God’s plan, okay?”
That was the second time she’d mentioned that, and he remembered how nice it felt to let go of all his self-recriminations and nagging doubt. He tried to lift his heart and his mind to pray, but for some reason, the words wouldn’t come.
When they were within fifty feet of the driveway leading to Kurt’s ranch house, he pulled off to the side of the road and cut the engine. “From here we go in on foot.”
“Understood.” Julianne pushed out of the passenger side door, then went around to the back to let Thunder out.
Brody slid the strap of his automatic rifle over his shoulder and grabbed his Glock. For a moment he second-guessed his decision not to call for backup, then he shook it off. Julianne was a trained FBI agent and Thunder was a K-9 officer, as well. Three against the two of them, but he didn’t really expect to find Otwell and Royce.
They may have felt safe using the place to hide that first night, but probably wouldn’t have stayed for a second and for sure not for a third night.
Still, they’d go in quietly, just in case.
Julianne was kneeling beside Thunder, encouraging him to sniff Nate’s scent. “Find, Thunder,” she commanded in a quiet yet firm voice. “Find.”
Thunder sniffed along the ground in front of the driveway and on either side of the opening, but didn’t alert. Which did not come as a surprise because if Nate and Royce had driven here, their scent wouldn’t be easy to detect. But up at the house would hopefully be a different story.
He took the left side of the driveway, gesturing for Julianne to stay to the right. According to the satellite map, the driveway curved to the left, and he intended to go in first. Once they’d cleared the house, they’d search for clues.
The trees surrounding the house made it difficult to see clearly. Julianne and Thunder moved stealthily on the other side of the driveway, and the moment he rounded the bend, he froze, raking his gaze over the house.
There were no lights on indicating anyone was inside, but he wasn’t going to take chances. Gesturing for Julianne to stay back, he eased forward. One step, then two, until he reached the front door.
It was locked, and he edged over to the closest window. He pressed his face against the glass and peered inside.
No one was in the living room.
He heard a footstep land with a soft thud on the wooden porch, and whirled around.
Julianne.
“I told you to stay back,” he gritted out.
She gave him a yeah, right look and gestured to the door. “Should we break in? Thunder alerted on Nate’s scent near the base of the porch.”
“Not yet. I want to make sure the place is clear.” He moved toward the next window and was irked when she went off in the opposite direction.
He should have known better than to expect her to follow orders. Fifteen minutes later, they met up in the back of the house.
“I didn’t see any sign of life, did you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, but Thunder keeps alerting on Nate’s scent so they must have spent a fair amount of time here.”
Guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. “Okay, I checked the windows. One is open, so I’ll go in first.”
“Should we wait for a search warrant?”
He hesitated, knowing she had a point. “I saw bloody dressings on the kitchen table, so we can use that as reasonable suspicion.”
“It’s your case,” she said.
He hesitated, then quickly called the judge who’d presided over Nate’s case. When he explained about Royce’s home and the bloody bandages on the counter, the judge agreed to execute a warrant.
“Okay, we’re all set,” he told her.
She waved a hand. “You’re the sheriff, lead the way.”
I’m sheriff for the moment, he thought. But not for long if I don’t find Nate.
After shimmying through the bedroom window, no easy feat, he made his way through Royce’s ranch house, verifying that no one was hiding inside. He opened the back door, letting Julianne and Thunder in.
“Find, Thunder. Find,” Julianne said.
Thunder went to work, moving from one room to the next, alerting nonstop until Julianne called him off.
“Thunder, heel.” The foxhound came over to her side, standing at attention. Brody realized he hadn’t heard the dog let loose with his musical howl in the past twenty-four hours and wondered why.
“They were here,” Julianne confirmed. “Have you seen anything other than the bloody bandages?”
“Not yet, but let’s get to work.” Brody swept his gaze over the room. He didn’t intend to leave without some sort of information.
Even if that meant staying all night.
* * *
Julianne sighed as Brody returned to the living room to begin his search. She doubted there would be much to find, but took Thunder with her down the hall to the three bedrooms.
They were sparsely furnished with a decor that looked as if it belonged to another era. Either Royce had inherited the place from his folks, or he hadn’t bothered to change anything left behind by the original owners.
She tackled the master bedroom first, searching every square inch for—what? She had no idea. But that didn’t stop her from dropping down on all fours, checking beneath the bed and dresser for any scraps left behind.
Nothing but fuzz balls of dust, indicating no one had bot
hered to clean the place over the past few months.
Thunder bumped his head into her side, as if upset at the thought she was taking over his duties. She kissed the top of his head, then continued her investigation into the closet.
It was full of men’s clothing, including a pair of worn cowboy boots. She picked one up, and turned to look at the sole. Hard to say for sure, but she thought it matched the print they’d seen outside the veterinary clinic. But that would mean Royce came here and changed out of the boots into a different pair of shoes.
Unless he had two identical pairs of cowboy boots?
She shrugged and set the boot aside, ignoring the tiny pang in her heart over the way she’d ditched Brody’s red cowboy boots. Now her actions seemed petty, and Brody’s dismay over hearing she’d given them away bothered her.
Focus, she reminded herself. There was nothing more of interest in the closet, so she finished up in the master bedroom and wandered into the first guest bedroom.
The bed was nothing more than a bare mattress, and there were scuff marks on the metal rails of the headboard. For a moment her stomach knotted as she imagined someone being held here against their will. She shivered and tried to shake off the sense of foreboding.
This wasn’t the time to let her imagination run wild. Turning away from the mattress, she inspected the scuffed hardwood floor.
There were deep cracks between some of the warped boards. She crouched down, running her fingertip across the board. When she raised her hand, her fingertips were blackened with dirt. A glint of something shiny caught her eye, and she realized there was something stuck between the boards.
She rubbed the spot again, revealing more gold. “Brody?”
“Yeah?” His husky voice was faint, but she heard him coming toward her. “Did you find something?”
“Maybe. Do you have a knife?”
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small red penknife. He opened the blade and carefully handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She went to work, prying the tip of the knife around the sliver of gold. Whatever was down there must have been in there a long time. Thankfully, the wood slats were old and hadn’t been taken care of, so they eventually gave way, giving her enough room to pry the object out of the floor.
“What is it?” Brody asked, hunkering down next to her.
“Some sort of charm.” She doubted there would be usable prints, so she rubbed the circle of gold on her pants in an attempt to clean it off. After a few minutes, she could make out the letter R engraved in the surface.
Then she turned it over, and her stomach dropped like a rock. On the other side of the charm, the letter L was clearly visible.
L. R. Lilly Ramos.
Lilly!
Julianne clearly remembered the charm Lilly wore like a talisman around her neck. The same charm that Nate Otwell had given to Lilly on her twenty-first birthday.
In that instant, Julianne knew that her initial fears all those years ago were right. Her best friend hadn’t decided to run away, leaving Clover for Houston to find a job.
Finding the charm meant that Lilly had been there. In Kurt Royce’s house. Back when she and Brody were still in college. Eighteen months before Brody had left to join the army.
“Is that a piece of Lilly’s necklace?” Brody asked harshly, his face twisted with agony.
She closed her eyes and nodded.
A strangled sound rose from deep in his throat, seconds before he bolted from the room.
ELEVEN
I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong. The words beat against his skull with the force of a jackhammer, causing him to stumble as he made his way outside. Low-hanging tree branches slapped him in the face as he rushed through the woods.
I WAS WRONG!
He clenched his hands into fists and wrestled back the urge to hit something. How could he have been so clueless?
Julianne had been right all this time. Lilly hadn’t run away. There was only one explanation for her necklace to be here in Royce’s house. Her disappearance was obviously the result of foul play.
Had Nate turned on his girlfriend? The woman he’d claimed to love? The woman Nate himself had tried to find after she’d disappeared?
Had Nate Otwell been working with Kurt Royce on his human trafficking scheme even back then? Before he’d graduated from college? Before Brody had gone into the army?
Nausea clawed up his throat and he tamped it back with effort, determined to face his failures head-on.
His fault. He could have saved so many innocent lives if only he’d believed Julianne, instead of the lonely kid he’d met in juvie.
The same guy who had actually saved his life, interfering when the others had ganged up on him in an attempt to beat him up.
The man he’d once called friend.
Brody dropped to his knees, bowing his head, battling wave after wave of self-loathing.
Dear Lord, why? Why not reveal the truth about Nate before now? Why let so many years pass by? Why?
Soft, warm arms wrapped around him, Julianne’s honeysuckle scent somehow managing to penetrate the depths of his despair. “Don’t do this to yourself, Brody,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his back. “Please don’t. God is the one in control here, not us.”
He shook his head helplessly. “I—it’s my fault—I can’t...”
“No. It’s Nate’s fault. No one else’s. His fault and Royce’s. Besides, we’re onto them, Brody. They’re on the run because we’re hot on their heels, tracking them down. You can’t give up now, not when we’re so close to finding them. This is the time to lean on God’s strength.”
Her hands were splayed across his chest, and he found himself covering them with his own, needing something good to hold onto. She squeezed him tighter, supporting him in a way he didn’t deserve.
Julianne was once the best part of his life, and now he knew what a colossal mistake he’d made in letting her go.
He tried to open himself up to the Lord, silently begging for help in finding Otwell and Royce, before any more innocent people were harmed.
Please, Lord. Please show me the way.
The nausea faded, and the tight bands around his chest loosened. Julianne was right, this was the time they needed to lean on God the most.
“I called Max, he’s on his way with Zeke.”
He nodded and sucked in a deep breath. Okay, enough wallowing in things he couldn’t change, there was still plenty of work to do. He turned his head, barely able to see her in the darkness. “Thanks, Julianne.”
She surprised him by capturing his mouth in a tender kiss before releasing him. Thunder nudged him with his nose, and he found himself smiling at the dog’s attempt to cheer him up. He stood and offered her his hand. She clung to it, not letting go.
“How long before Max and Zeke get here?” he asked, trying to focus on their next steps. “We still need to scope out the area around the house, in case there are other dwellings here that they might be using as a hideout.”
“Good idea. Max and Zeke said they’d be here within fifteen minutes. Cheetah, Zeke’s Australian shepherd, is also good at tracking, so we can easily split up to cover the woods.”
“We should finish up our search of the house, then,” he said. “There may be other clues.”
She nodded, continuing to hold his hand as they went back inside. It was only once they returned to the bedroom that she let him go. “This room gives me the creeps,” she muttered, heading toward the closet.
“Would you rather I stay?” he asked from the doorway.
“No, go ahead and check out the other bedroom.”
The next bedroom looked exactly like the previous one, bare mattress on a metal-frame bed. Determined to find something—anything—that may give them more i
nformation, he meticulously examined the flooring and the dresser drawers, which were all surprisingly empty.
Weird. He expected the closet to be empty, too, but it wasn’t. The sight of rusty handcuffs and other bindings lying haphazardly on the floor made the nausea return in full force.
This was where they’d held the women, he deduced. Keeping them against their will, possibly injecting them with drugs. He swallowed past the large lump in his throat, and forced himself to turn away.
Otwell and Royce would pay for their crimes.
The sound of a vehicle approaching had him moving swiftly toward the front door, weapon ready as he peered through the window. Seeing the familiar SUV with the small K-9 logo on the back helped him relax.
Reinforcements had arrived.
Julianne and Thunder came out of the bedroom to meet him. “Find anything?” she asked.
“Cuffs and bindings in the closet.”
She grimaced. “Same thing I found. I didn’t disturb anything, though. We may be able to lift fingerprints or skin cells with DNA evidence from them.”
He nodded and opened the door, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. “Let’s hope we find something more when we search the grounds.”
“Julianne, Sheriff,” Max greeted them. “How did you figure out the gunman’s identity?”
Julianne glanced at him, as if unsure how to respond. He stepped forward. There was no point in hiding the truth about his past. “I found an old photograph from my time at the juvenile detention center. That’s where I met Nate Otwell, and thankfully, Julianne recognized one of the other kids, too. When I pulled up his mug shot, she identified him as the shooter.” Brody glanced at the ranch house. “Kurt Royce owns this place, and we have reason to believe he and Otwell have been working together for years. The judge presiding over Nate Otwell’s case agreed to grant a search warrant. We found bloody bandages inside, but now we’d like to spread out and search the grounds before we lose all the light.”
