“This is Perci and Nate’s daughter, Ivy. The adoption will be final in three months,” Phoebe said proudly. Ivy rested her head against her aunt’s shoulder and blinked shyly at everyone.
“Tell Perci congratulations for me, will you?” Miranda didn’t know the details, but she’d no doubt hear them from her grandmother soon. Miranda’s grandmother and the Masterson brothers’ mother were good friends. Joel Masterson’s brothers—Matt, Nate, and Levi—had married all three of Phoebe’s sisters.
A bit odd, but small towns were like that sometimes.
Ivy giggled and reached for the last person Miranda would have ever expected.
Allan Knight took Ivy quickly and slipped her onto his hip like he’d held a small child a thousand times before. He smiled—a real smile— and greeted the little girl like an old pro. Miranda tried not to gawk.
Well. That was certainly unexpected. Miranda would have expected Allan Knight to eat small children with his breakfast sausage.
He’d been almost hostile to the rest of the team at breakfast just an hour ago. No. Not hostile—wary and defensive.
Like he didn’t trust a single member of PAVAD all that much.
Max was the only one who hadn’t seemed to draw his surliness. All the women had. Especially Miranda herself.
He was an enigma she was going to have to figure out.
None of his vitriol was visible now. No, he was smiling and talking to the little girl without hesitation.
The ass.
Apparently, it was grown-up girls he couldn’t get along with. Maybe he was just a misogynist.
Miranda deliberately turned her back on him. She had introductions to make. “Joel, we’re ready to get started whenever you are.”
“Gunderson will be here shortly. He’s turning the case over and will consult with your team as liaison. We’ll use WSP, DCI, and my deputies, if needed.”
That made her hesitate. It wasn’t how PAVAD usually operated. Usually, they acted as auxiliary to the locals. Jurisdiction was always a sore point on just about every case she’d ever worked. “The case is being turned over to PAVAD completely? How is that even possible? This isn’t a federal crime.”
Joel waited until his wife, her brother, and their niece stepped out of his small office before answering. “There’re some local conflicts of interest. I’m sure Gunderson will explain when he gets here. We’ve already discussed it with the DCI supervisor. Rex Weatherby, from the WSP, is offering manpower if we need it. Your team handles everything, and they’ll share the arrest.”
Miranda nodded. One thing PAVAD prized was adaptability. And one of their hallmarks was that they weren’t out for glory—sharing arrests was the most they were after. In most instances, they let the locals have the collars, and they faded into the shadows.
She looked around the room quickly. Technically, she didn’t have to be the agent-in-charge on this one, either. Not if she didn’t want to.
Max had the most seniority with the bureau, though they had all started with PAVAD at about the same time. Jac, too, could run the investigation fully. But no. This was her case. Her home. No one would give it as much attention as she would. “Joel Masterson, Sheriff of Masterson County, this is Special Agent Maddox Jones, Jaclyn Jones—not related to one another, just the work of the naming fairies, and Dr. Kelly Compton, our forensics supervisor who’ll be reviewing everything again.”
“Nice to meet all of you,” Joel said, giving his characteristic beautiful grin. “The office is small, but it’s home. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Thanks, Joel. Do you have a room we can work out of?”
“There’s a small room in the back. It’s not big, I’m afraid. It’s about all I can spare for a cold case like this. But it’ll give you some privacy. No doubt we’ll have people wandering in.”
Curiosity seekers. The FBI in Masterson County would be a big deal. “We’ll make do.”
Miranda looked at Max and Jac. Any of the three of them could run this case. Jac shook her head and pointed lightly. Max didn’t say anything. This time. He usually was the most talkative of the bunch, but whenever Jac was around now, he was silent as a clam, unless necessary. No one really knew why. Well, no one besides him, Jac—and Miranda. And she had some very definite theories.
It would be entertaining—if it wasn’t hurting her friends so much.
Miranda nodded. “I’m taking point on this.”
Max would act as her second. Him and Jac. Two people she could count on in the darkest hour. Miranda trusted them both completely.
“Let’s get started. Jac and Kelly, you’ll come with me. We’re going to the ME and finding out what we can.”
She looked at the other man. Knight wasn’t technically a member of PAVAD yet. But she was in charge now, and that meant she had to find something to do with him—without letting him alienate anyone else on the team.
She was going to have to keep him as close to her as a puppy on a leash.
“You can come along, Knight, if you mind your manners. Think you can do that?”
“I think I’ll managed just fine, Talley.”
Miranda was used to doing what she wanted and getting what she wanted. The looks she kept shooting him amused him. He would let her have her way; it was her case, after all. This time.
He wasn’t PAVAD, and he knew it. He was there strictly to observe. See how PAVAD worked in action. That meant keeping his eyes on the people around him. It took him a short moment to study them all.
Miranda was the one he couldn’t help looking at.
Every time she smiled, her entire face lit. The green eyes sparkled.
He resented that kind of happiness. Knight understood that. He even knew that was a bit unreasonable.
“The coroner is on maternity leave, Randi. Nate is filling in. Unwillingly. He handled the autopsy and cause-of-death reports,” Sheriff Masterson said. “He’s taken over the hospital for Mom. Should be in his office by now. He brought Ivy here to meet Phoebe before heading in. She watches all the kids out at her father’s ranch.”
Dr. Talley nodded. “We’ll head there now.”
“I’ll call and give him a heads-up.”
Knight wondered at the point of it. Helen Caudrell had been buried for nine weeks now—plus or minus fourteen years if he counted her original unmarked grave. There wasn’t anything they could learn that they didn’t already have in reports.
Knight hated that part about cold cases. Memories often dulled with time. Tiny, crucial details would be overlooked.
Especially in a small town like Masterson.
He was there to learn procedure during what was a PAVAD cold case. That was it. Then, if he took the position, he’d modify that procedure to fit what he envisioned for a unit devoted to his passion. That wasn’t exactly chump change at this point—especially if he was having to deal with a massive irritant standing so close that he could smell her shampoo. Floral, with a hint of vanilla underneath.
“I’ll ride along with you, Doctor. Strictly to observe, of course.”
“Then let’s get going.” Miranda turned toward the sheriff. “Max will help get things started in here.”
“Keys. Matt’s loaned one of his trucks to our office for the time being. It should be large enough for most of your team.” The sheriff tossed her a set of keys. She missed, shifting a bit to her left to catch them. “He doesn’t need the truck for a while—he’s sticking close to home until his wife has the baby.”
Metal rings bit into Knight’s hand when he nabbed them out of the air. Miranda landed against his chest for just a moment. Long enough for Knight to determine she was all woman.
If it wasn’t for her irritating attitude, he almost wouldn’t have minded.
People who dealt with the worst side of humanity like they did had no business being so happy. Smiling and sunny. She was like a tail-wagging, ball-chasing puppy, just oozing happiness drool everywhere.
He wrapped his free hand on her wai
st and helped her right herself. The woman was pure trouble from the top of the cinnamon curls to her toes. “Let’s get going. I’ll drive.”
12
Miranda took charge once everyone was in the hospital’s one conference room. She was aware of Knight next to her, but he hadn’t said anything more than his name during the introductions. Ass. If this was the attitude he was going to bring to PAVAD, he’d probably not go very far. He’d alienate everyone he worked with. “Helen Caudrell, Nate. Joel said you did the autopsy?”
“Not my favorite part of this gig.”
Nate Masterson ran the hospital. His family had been in Masterson since the very beginning—the town and the county were named after his ancestors. He and his brothers were pillars of the community—the sheriff, head of the hospital, the only veterinarian, and one of the most successful ranchers in the region—and were well-respected. His own mother had built the hospital from the ground up over the last thirty years.
“I can see where it wouldn’t be.” But no doubt Nate Masterson had approached it with his characteristic perfectionist tendencies. Mastersons did tend to go above and beyond. “Can you tell us about what you found?”
“There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid. The reports are about as accurate as anything I can give you. I have the notes I dictated during the process. I’ve copied them to a USB drive for you. And the photos taken. I’m not a medical examiner, Miranda. I did a stint in pathology years ago, but to be honest…if there was something there, I could have missed it.”
“Cause of death?” Knight demanded. Miranda shot him a look at the rude tone. Nate stopped speaking and glared back.
Well. That would be a fun match. The men were about the same height, but Nate was a wall of solid muscle. He outweighed Knight by at least fifty pounds. Still, Knight had that dangerous air about him that gave a woman the shivers.
She’d have been an idiot to miss the challenge in Nate’s eyes. He was the most…passionate…of the Masterson brothers. She’d once seen him lay out a drunk who’d been harassing Susie Templeton about ten years back. With one well-placed punch.
And she suspected Nate had pulled the force behind it back at the last minute.
Miranda took it on herself to defuse the situation.
She kicked Knight in the shin—lightly—under the table.
He shot her a glare. It was apparently his customary expression of choice. No doubt they’d be discussing it later.
She shot him a glare right back.
Knight really needed an attitude adjustment if he was going to make PAVAD his goal. There were hundreds of agents nationwide who would want the opportunity about to be handed to him. She wasn’t certain Knight deserved it.
She’d have to ask around, check with other agents who’d worked with him before. Max, perhaps. Max was keenly observant—he’d know everything there was to know about Allan Knight. And Max would be able to tell her if there was something more going on, or if Knight’s bad attitude was just a natural part of his character. “I’m sorry for Agent Knight, Nate. He gets antsy easily. What was Helen’s actual cause of death?”
She remembered the woman. Large, weathered, and mean. She hadn’t exactly been an endearing member of the community. But she hadn’t deserved to be buried in her son-in-law’s barn.
Jac was at Miranda’s left, silently taking notes as was her habit. Kelly was next to Knight, her nose buried in Nate’s copy of the files, looking for discrepancies in the originals versus the photocopies they had.
Nate turned his attention back to her. She studied him, cataloging the differences—and similarities—between him and the only other man in the room right now. Both were tall, but Nate was a solid wall of man muscle that was almost perfection to look at. Well, Knight could be considered pretty perfect to look at, too. If he had a better attitude.
Attitude made all the difference.
“She had injuries to her right occipital lobe and to the back of her skull here,” Nate began, and Miranda tuned back in for the details. “But that wasn’t what killed her. She asphyxiated. Debris was in her lungs. In her eyes, nose, and mouth, as well. That’s what required the decree that it was death by homicide. She was breathing in soil for several minutes until she suffocated.”
That jibed with what information they already had. Miranda had hoped Nate had found something probative, something that wasn’t already in the reports. No such luck. “So basically…”
“Someone struck her on the right side of her head. She probably hit her head again when she fell, and then someone most likely buried her alive. All of this is speculation on my part based on what I found. It’s up to you and Joel to figure out the exact details.”
Now they had to find out who had struck an almost sixty-year-old woman, wrapped her in a pink and orange quilt, and buried her in Luther Beise’s barn, alive.
13
Jim followed the group around the best he could. He thought the Talley girl was the one in charge. That was a real shocker. A far cry from the nerdy girl who had always been with Monica. The two had been as thick as thieves. Jim hadn’t thought much of her then. Just a punk kid who had had everything handed to her by her grandmother.
Strange that she was the one brought here to find Luther’s family. Unless that had been on purpose. He would have thought there was a conflict of interest. She could be considered a material witness if he wanted to get technical about it. Knew Helen and Pauline and Luther and the kids. All of them. Including Jim. Maybe Monica had said something to her.
Maybe she just had to find the answers.
Maybe Helen’s ghost had called to her or something. Jim wasn’t so certain he didn’t believe in that spiritual bull. Not anymore, anyway.
Over the past nine weeks, he’d dreamed of Helen more times than not. How she’d looked when he’d last seen her.
How she’d looked when she’d been sneering at him and telling him he was a worthless piece of crap that didn’t deserve Luther’s help back then. Telling him he was just a worthless freeloader.
She’d known. She’d known what he’d been doing coming around her back door back then. It for sure wasn’t for the food.
Helen had accused him of chasing after her granddaughter. His own cousin’s kid. Well, stepcousin, rather.
Maybe he’d kissed Monica once or twice. Took her shirt off. Gone farther than he wanted to remember now. She hadn’t been a virgin, though. Far from it.
But, then again, her mother had been a bit of a slut, too. He blamed her, mostly.
Had Pauline not pissed Helen off so much, what had happened probably never would have occurred. Jim knew how heat-of-the-moment things could happen.
They had with Monica. That first day he’d touched her.
He’d been high, and drunk, and so had she. She’d come on to him. He’d told her no a couple of times, but he’d taken advantage of what the girl had been offering. He was just glad they’d not been blood related. He didn’t know that he’d have gotten past that if she’d been his cousin by blood.
No, he’d been stupid. The drugs had made him do it.
That Talley girl strolled out of the inn, that stuffed shirt next to her. Jim waited until they were a few blocks up the road, then pulled the patrol car onto the road.
He’d blend in, no doubt. Just another WSP officer out doing his job.
Several hours later, he knew the truth. He hadn’t intended to stay in the area, but he’d pulled into the parking lot across from the Masterson County school system to eat his lunch, and he’d seen her and her partner drive by. They’d been in the Masterson vet’s truck. It was a distinctive blue. It was easy to follow it as they drove around.
What were they really thinking to accomplish?
Luther and Pauline hadn’t exactly been close to many people in Masterson. Pauline had thought most of the people around were totally worthless. She’d had trouble getting along with most people, Jim thought.
Unless they had cocks, anyway. Pauline liked men. She es
pecially liked them when her husband was gone.
Sometimes, he’d wondered if Luther knew that. Maybe he had, but maybe he hadn’t given a damn.
It was hard to tell.
Fourteen-year-old memories could haunt you. But there was always the possibility memories got twisted. He’d studied witness reports. Took long lectures on how ineffective memories could be. He knew.
But Helen…Helen was haunting him. Now.
She’d been all over his dreams last night.
Far worse than she had all those years ago.
Maybe…maybe when they’d found her body, they’d let her soul out or something. And she was haunting. Haunting him for what he’d done.
No. That was just stupid talking.
He pulled the squad car open and reached into the back seat. He’d done his shopping on his way in that morning.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had a drink on the clock. It probably wouldn’t be the last. He’d just sit there, next to the road, waiting for the next speeder to go by. He wouldn’t go track that girl down. Wouldn’t watch what they were doing.
And, hopefully, he’d be able to mute Helen’s caustic voice out of his head.
Somehow.
14
Miranda was quiet when they left the tiny excuse for a hospital. Knight shot her a look, trying to determine what she was thinking by the expression on her face. His shin still smarted from her kick. The incongruity of freckles and her sedate hairstyle—she’d pulled the cinnamon curls up and pinned her hair in place—struck him.
Knight decided he hated her hair like that. It wasn’t her; at least, not the her he was trying to puzzle out. She looked too different, even though she wore dark pants and her FBI: PAVAD insulated windbreaker.
“It had to be someone close,” Jac Jones said a few minutes after they were back in the large truck.
Buried Secrets: PAVAD: FBI Case File #0005 (PAVAD: FBI Case Files) Page 5
