by Laura Scott
“You found my note?” Clark looked relieved. “I’m glad.”
“What kind of car was he driving?” Brody asked as he resumed typing.
“A black pickup truck, with a black cover over the bed.”
Brody wondered if Otwell and Royce had been sleeping in the back of the truck since they’d joined up. “You’re giving us lots of good information, Clark,” he told him encouragingly. “Did they take you to your house for some reason?”
Clark shook his head. “No, the man with the scar took me to a ranch house in the woods. He told me no one would hear if I tried to shout for help.”
Something didn’t add up. If that were truly the case, he couldn’t figure out why Thunder had alerted on Nate’s scent at Clark’s place. “And you said the bald guy met you at the ranch house?”
“Yeah. Not long after we got there. That’s when the guy with the scar called him Nate.”
“Maybe they split up,” Julianne offered. “One of them took Clark’s house and the other went to the clinic.”
“But that means they were looking for him, specifically,” Brody countered. “And had two cars, which really doesn’t make sense.” He turned toward Clark. “Did you recognize the bald guy? Do you know who he is?”
Clark hesitated, then nodded. “I think I figured it out. He’s Nate Otwell, right? The guy you arrested for hurting my sister, Renee.”
“Yes.” Brody didn’t like that the puzzle pieces weren’t meshing neatly together, but he moved on. “Okay, so now both men are at the ranch house. Then what happened?”
Clark described how he’d cleaned and treated Royce’s wound and told him how much of the antibiotic to take. “But I wasn’t completely honest about that,” he admitted, ducking his head.
“What do you mean?”
“I underdosed him.” Clark’s cheeks grew pink. “I was hoping the infection would start to spread, forcing them to go to a hospital.”
Brody couldn’t blame the kid for fighting the only way he knew how. “Good job. Anything else?”
“No. When I finished dressing his wound, they restrained my arms and gagged me. Then they hauled me into the woods and tied me to the tree.”
Brody finished Clark’s statement and printed it out. “Take a moment to review this for accuracy before you sign it.”
Clark laboriously reviewed the statement then picked up the pen and signed it. “Now can I get my dog and go home?”
“Sure.” Brody set the statement aside. “Julianne, are you and Thunder ready to go?”
“Of course.” She gathered up Thunder’s dishes and carried them back through the main office area.
Brody stopped at Sandra’s desk. “I’m driving Clark Davenport home. If anyone needs me, I’ll be sticking around Clark’s place, keeping an eye on things there for the rest of the night.”
“I’ll let the deputies know, Sheriff,” Sandra said with a smile. “But wouldn’t you rather have one of the other guys doing guard duty?”
“Not this time.” He turned and escorted Julianne and Clark outside.
Once everyone was settled in the car, he started the engine and headed in the opposite direction of Clark’s house.
“Where are you going?” Julianne asked.
He glanced over at her. “To the Sunflower Motel. Clark is going to hang around with us for the night.”
“But...” Julianne’s voice trailed off. “You did that on purpose.”
“Yeah,” Brody admitted grimly. “I don’t want to believe that anyone working for me is helping Otwell and Royce, and I’m hoping this little trick will prove me wrong.”
Julianne nodded. “The way we were found so quickly at the Thoroughbred Inn was suspicious.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised that she made the same connection he had. After all, she was smart and savvy. But he was perturbed that she hadn’t mentioned her suspicions before now.
“You have a candidate in mind?” he asked.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’ve only met a couple of the deputies reporting to you. You’re the one who would have the best insight into who might be swayed to do something like this.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” he said gruffly. “I’ve only been sheriff for a little over three years.”
Julianne glanced over her shoulder to where Clark was slumped against the window, apparently asleep. “You should start by identifying anyone that has cash flow problems. Maybe someone recently divorced or a guy who likes to gamble.”
Brody nodded, thinking through the guys who reported to him. He didn’t have any women on staff other than the three dispatchers. The deputies all took turns rotating through dispatch to fill in for vacations.
The inside leak, if there was one, could be any one of them, he thought with a sense of frustration.
This time, though, he wasn’t going to let his personal feelings get in the way. He’d look at every single one of his men regardless of how much he liked them, in order to identify the one who may have turned on them.
* * *
The Sunflower Motel wasn’t exactly inspiring, but Julianne was so exhausted she couldn’t find it in her to care. She let Thunder out of the back, clipped his leash on, and took him out for a walk so he could do his business.
She was still grappling with the fact that Brody had actually set a trap for whatever deputy might be in cahoots with Nate.
The day had been one emotional roller coaster, that was for sure. She slipped her hand into her pocket, fingering the charm engraved with Lilly’s initials.
Her best friend had been gone for years, but it seemed as if they may finally be able to put her to rest. If the remains Cheetah had found actually did belong to Lilly. Julianne wasn’t sure if she wanted them to belong to her best friend, or not. Yet deep down, she suspected they’d found Lilly. She’d never believed the runaway story, the way Brody had.
There was no denying she had a bad feeling about the site Cheetah and Zeke had found. When you considered men like Otwell and Royce, finding one body likely meant there were more.
Many more.
With Thunder at her side, she circled the motel, checking the place out. The building was just two stories high and ten rooms along its length. She hoped Brody remembered to request rooms on the ground level.
The way he’d reacted so strongly after finding Lilly’s pendant made her feel bad for him all over again. Being right about Lilly’s fate didn’t matter anymore.
Brody did. And she wanted, needed him to find a way to forgive himself.
The place looked innocuous enough, so she cleaned up after Thunder and met up with Brody and Clark who’d emerged from the lobby. The young man wasn’t thrilled with the change in plans, but he didn’t complain.
Brody handed her a key. “Clark and I are in room eight, you’re in ten. They’re connecting rooms in case you need anything.”
“Thanks.” She remembered all too clearly what had transpired at the Thoroughbred Inn. As she unlocked the door and entered her room, she frowned. Now that she thought about it, Brody hadn’t reported in as to their location for that night.
So how would a deputy figure it out? Tracking via GPS? Catching a glimpse of their SUV outside the motel?
Or were they on the wrong track believing someone within law enforcement was involved?
She tried to put a halt to her whirling thoughts. They’d find out one way or another, but the possibilities plagued her as she cleaned up.
Thirty minutes later, she stretched out on top of the bed. It felt good to be clean, but so much had happened over the past few days she was finding it difficult to shut down her thoughts.
“Julianne?” Brody’s soft voice came from the doorway between their rooms.
Thunder thumped his tail on the floor acknowledging Brody as a fr
iend. She swung upright and went over to open the door wider. “Something wrong?” she whispered.
“Can’t sleep.” Brody glanced over his shoulder with a grimace. “And Clark snores.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Wow, you’re not kidding.” She opened the door and gestured for him to come inside.
Brody crossed over to the chair in the corner. “It’s not all Clark’s fault,” he acknowledged. “I don’t think I’d be able to sleep regardless of his snoring.”
“I know. I seem to be having the same problem.” She sat on the edge of the bed and dragged a hand through her hair. “Things have been crazy between our attempts to find our kidnapped agent while tracking down Otwell and Royce.”
Brody’s expression was thoughtful. “I feel like we’re missing something. I just don’t understand why they’re hanging around here.”
“The roadblocks you set up may have something to do with it,” she pointed out.
“But that wouldn’t be a problem if they really have a deputy helping them out.”
“True.” She’d thought the same thing. “Okay, so why else would they stick around? To find supplies? Maybe get their hands on some cash?”
Brody leaned forward propping his elbows on his knees. “Money. It’s not easy to go on the run without it.”
Julianne found herself staring at Brody’s familiar features, wishing for something she didn’t dare name. He obviously regretted believing in Nate’s story about Lilly running away, but she still couldn’t deny the feeling that he hadn’t cared about her enough to believe in her. Was she crazy to think they could try again?
Would Brody even want to?
With an effort, she concentrated on the facts of their case. “Okay, so let’s review the timeline. Royce helps Otwell escape. They’re surprised to discover I’ve witnessed the jailbreak and Royce comes after me. But I wound him, instead, creating the first wrinkle in their plan.”
Brody was nodding in agreement. “They manage to find your vehicle outside Rusty’s long enough to plant a bomb. Only Thunder saves us and gets a piece of Royce’s clothing. Later that night, they break into the veterinary clinic, stumbling across Clark who poses another problem for them to deal with. But they use him to their advantage, kidnapping him and forcing him to render first aid. When he’s finished, they tie him to a tree and leave him to die.”
“That’s when they head out to the Broke Spoke, to plant the bloody towels,” Julianne said. “Maybe they slept there, too. Royce’s scent was all over the place, but we didn’t get a chance to check other rooms for Otwell’s scent.”
“Two separate rooms?” Brody shrugged. “It’s possible. Maybe they’re not worried about spending money because they have a stash squirreled away somewhere.”
“They hide somewhere nearby, using the grenade in yet another attempt to kill us,” she continued. “Seems strange they wouldn’t just shoot.”
“We may have gotten there earlier than they expected,” Brody pointed out.
She nodded. “But here is where the timing really doesn’t make any sense. We have a fisherman who sees men dressed in black outside a cabin where Thunder picks up Jake’s scent. We find a bit of orange string and Thunder alerts on Otwell’s scent. There’s a dead body, likely there at least ten days, likely longer, either related to Otwell’s criminal activities or to the Duprees’. Then we’re shot at again, at the Thoroughbred Inn.” She looked at Brody. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Me, either.”
For several moments, neither of them spoke. Was it her imagination, or were his blue eyes reflecting the same hint of attraction she felt? She placed her hand on his arm. “I know it’s been a rough few days, but we’re going to find him, Brody.”
His mouth flattened. “Too late for Lilly, or all the other women he hurt or worse over the last ten years.”
She winced at the self-recrimination in his tone. “The crimes belong to Nate, not you.”
“I wish I could believe that,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“I know you befriended Nate at the juvie center, but that doesn’t make you guilty by association. He had the same opportunity to turn his life around that you did. He failed. You didn’t.”
Brody didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he turned to look at Nate’s case file, “Maybe I should review it again, see if I can figure out where he may have stashed some money.”
She nodded, her hand slipping from his arm. She understood his need to right a perceived wrong, but she wished he’d turn to faith, rather than beating himself up about things that couldn’t be changed.
Brody rose to his feet, the same time she did. Only a foot of space separated them, the room shrinking around them.
“Julianne?” Hearing her name spoken in Brody’s southern accent made her shiver.
“Yes?” Her voice was a breathy whisper.
He stepped closer then lifted his hands to cradle her face. “Thanks for being such a great partner,” he said before covering her mouth with his.
The hot sweetness of his kiss turned her mind to mush. She clung to his chest and lost herself in his embrace. There hadn’t been anyone for her since she’d left Clover County and Brody Kenner behind.
Nobody.
She’d intentionally kept people, men mostly, at arm’s length, unwilling to open herself up to the deep slashing pain of caring for someone who didn’t feel the same way.
But all of that seemed ridiculous now, as she returned Brody’s kiss.
Her heart still belonged to him.
When Brody lifted his head, taking ragged breaths, she rested her forehead on his chest, listening to the thump, thump, thump of his heart.
Was it possible he felt the same way?
Or was their past too much to overcome?
She lifted her head to look up at him, determined to get answers, but his phone rang. She moved away, listening as he answered it.
“Kenner,” he barked.
“Sheriff? Are you all right?” Julianne could hear the concerned tone of Sandra, the dispatcher, even without the speaker being on.
Brody frowned. “Yes, why?”
“Because of the fire! I’ve been told that Clark Davenport’s house is completely engulfed in flames.”
Julianne sucked in a harsh breath as the realization sank deep into her bones.
Their trap had been sprung. Confirming her worst suspicion.
One of Brody’s deputies was leaking information to Otwell.
THIRTEEN
Brody tightened his grip on the phone in disbelief. When he’d told the dispatcher he was heading to Clark’s house to keep an eye on things, he hadn’t expected someone would actually torch the place.
Obviously one of his deputies listened to the police scanner and betrayed him.
But who? And why? He couldn’t imagine anyone, other than Nate and Royce of course, hating him this much.
“What happened,” he asked hoarsely. “Do you have any idea how it started?”
“Neighbors heard a loud boom and then saw flames. We won’t know anything more about what happened until the firefighters have extinguished the blaze.”
“Sandra, I don’t want you to say a word about talking to me, understand? I want you to tell anyone who asks that I haven’t checked in yet, and that I’m not answering my cell phone.”
“But Sheriff...”
“That’s an order,” he interrupted sharply. “Do not talk to anyone.”
“Yeah, sure. Okay.” Sandra sounded hurt by his tone, but he didn’t care. He quickly disconnected the line, stared at the device in his hand, and promptly dropped it on the ground and smashed it with the heel of his boot. Then he picked up the pieces and tossed them into the trash.
“Brody, I’m so sorry,” Julianne said in a hushed tone.
He sighed and scrubbed the bristle along his jaw. “I should have thought of another way to prove there’s an inside leak. But I never expected—” He paused, battling a wave of anger intermixed with guilt. “I’m not sure how to tell Clark his home has been destroyed.”
She grasped his arm. “This isn’t your fault. Whoever is working with Nate caused the damage, not you.”
He shook off her hand and moved away, needing distance. Julianne was wrong, the blame for everything rested squarely on his shoulders. Starting all the way back to the night Lilly had disappeared, when he’d allowed Nate to convince him that she’d run away.
If he’d listened to Julianne all those years ago, none of this would have happened.
“You’re doing it again,” she said, her tone full of sadness. “I can tell you’re questioning God’s plan.”
He ground his teeth together so hard he was surprised the enamel didn’t shatter beneath the pressure. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t take any responsibility for my actions? I don’t think that’s what God had in mind.”
“Of course not,” was her swift response. “But what did you do, other than tell a white lie about where you were planning to spend the night? How does that make you responsible for the actions of two men desperate to kill us?”
She made it sound so easy, so simple, when it was anything but.
“Something wrong?” Clark Davenport asked, looking rumpled and fatigued in the doorway connecting their rooms. Obviously their raised voices had woken him up.
Brody braced himself as he faced the young man who’d already been through so much: his sister Renee’s abuse at the hands of Nate Otwell, being kidnapped and left for dead, and now losing his home.
“Yes, Clark, I’m afraid so.” Julianne crossed over to the young man. “You might want to sit down. We have some bad news...”
“Renee?” Clark asked harshly, stumbling as he headed toward a chair. “Is my sister all right?”
