“I don’t know.” Allan Knight stepped closer. “We’ll find them, Clint. PAVAD won’t stop until we do.”
Yeah, well, Clint didn’t put much stock in empty law-enforcement promises. He’d seen them broken far too many times.
48
Miranda had disappeared. No one knew where she or Agent Lorcan were.
Or Clint’s family.
Knight tried not to let worry settle in. He hadn’t heard from Miranda since before they’d gotten the call that someone had ambushed Clint’s home. The man had seriously pissed off someone, somewhere.
Enough that they’d targeted the man’s housekeeper and eight-month-old daughter. It sickened him. It pissed him off.
Anyone who sent a bullet toward the innocent pissed him off, but when babies and children were involved, he was a thousand times more pissed.
He wanted the shooters beneath his hands. Wanted them to feel the same fear Clint was no doubt feeling right now.
Clint had already lost his wife. Now, there was a real possibility he’d lost his daughter, too. “Tell me about Maggie Tyler. What kind of relationship do you have with your housekeeper?” Odds that the housekeeper had just taken the baby and run or had been involved in this attack were slim, but they were possible. And would have to be ruled out.
Anger flashed. In an instant. Clint tensed. “Maggie didn’t do this.”
“I know. But we need to know all that we can right now.” It was the truth. PAVAD apparently prized victimology just as much as any other form of profiling. Maggie Tyler was an unknown in this game now. But all that was going to change.
“Maggie and I…she…” Pain flashed in the man’s green eyes. “Maggie’s perfect.”
Not what he was expecting from a man describing his housekeeper. Far from it. “How so?”
“She…”
That’s when Knight got it. It wasn’t Miranda Clint had a thing for. It was another woman a lot closer. “How long have you been involved?”
“She’s worked for me since Violet was about two months old. Just…just before Vi Preston went after her cousin Pandora. About the time Rowland Bowles was here. He had her in his movie. She showed up one day, the flyer for a housekeeper I’d hung in her hand, and still wearing makeup from that movie set.” Clint’s voice broke. “I wanted her to leave, but I was desperate.”
“Why?” There was so much pain in the man’s words, Knight wondered at it. He’d never felt that strongly about a woman. He could say that without a doubt.
He probably never would.
“She’s a Tyler. I’m a Gunderson. I…no Tyler has any business being near me since everything went down with Clive and my brother Jay. But Maggie said she’d work for half pay. Room and board. I think she felt sorry for me. Or Violet.” He gave a grimace. “Or she was trying to escape those brothers of hers. They can be a bit wild. But they crack down hard on Maggie when she even wants to do something normal. Overprotective.”
“Overprotective enough to take her and your daughter and shoot up the house?”
“No. They may be a bit on the troublemaking side, but the Tylers wouldn’t do anything like this. Law-abiding, for the most part.”
“Dr. Talley said there was recent trouble between them and your family.” Miranda needed to get her ass there, where Knight could see what she knew.
She should have checked in by now. She and Agent Lorcan should have been back hours ago. Knight pulled his phone free and dialed Miranda quickly. It was a satellite phone, encrypted with bureau software. It was guaranteed to have signal just about everywhere.
It was a PAVAD luxury.
She didn’t answer.
He followed with a text. Nothing.
Carrie Lorcan was silent, as well. And that shocked him most of all. Carrie Lorcan was one of the biggest sticklers for protocol he’d ever seen. She wouldn’t have let a text go unanswered.
Something more was going on. Knight would bank on that.
Someone called his name softly. Knight turned. Kelly Compton waved him over. Knight stepped in her direction.
“You hear from Dr. Talley or Carrie Lorcan?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, but I did find this in Maggie Tyler’s bathroom.”
Dr. Compton held out an evidence bag, already clearly labeled. Knight took it and looked inside. He bit back a small curse when he saw the pink-and-blue package.
He looked at the man next to him. And made a judgment call. He held the envelope out so Clint could get a good look at it. Not exactly protocol, but he didn’t give a damn.
They had a missing young woman and an infant out there somewhere.
Clint’s curse was low and filled with more emotion than Knight cared to quantify. More pain.
“How far along?” Knight asked, quietly, well aware that Clint’s colleagues surrounded them. And that the other man didn’t trust a single one of them. Knight wouldn’t either. Not now. “And who would know?”
“Two months. Two months and three days.” Clint’s eyes met his. Tortured. “I…buried my wife two weeks after my daughter was born. Three months later, Maggie moved in. And I did something stupid with her a few months ago. Something I never meant to happen. She is eleven years younger than I am, naive, and too good for the likes of me. It didn’t happen a second time. We argued a few days ago. I… she called me this morning. Told me we needed to talk. About something important. I told her…it had to wait. Until after this case. I thought she was going to tell me she was quitting. I should have talked to her last night. But we argued. We argued. She told me…after this case, she was leaving.”
“And this morning? When did you last see her?”
“I left her and Violet still sleeping. I looked in on Maggie to make sure she was ok. I heard her up in the middle of the night. I should have gone to her. I should have gone to her and just talked to her. Maybe she would have told me about the baby. I…who did this, Knight?”
It wasn’t Clint. Shots had been reported ninety minutes ago by a neighbor about half a mile up the road who’d been driving by on their way home from the pharmacy.
Ninety minutes ago, Clint had been in Masterson forty miles away. With Knight and the sheriff.
There wasn’t a tighter alibi than that.
Knight surprised himself when he put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’ll find them, Clint. I promise.”
Knight looked at the law-enforcement officers surrounding them as Clint was led away by his own boss.
He looked at Dr. Compton. “Process that yourself. And…make certain that the WSP doesn’t see it at all. Not until absolutely necessary.”
“You think it’s important?” she asked, softly. “I can get creative. For a few hours or so. Unless it’s relevant to the investigation. It could get inadvertently misdirected to PAVAD. As could the beer can and samples from the vomit. I’d prefer it go that way, myself. I could have Ally run it tonight. Keep it with our people. Just in case.”
“Do that. Quietly.” Not his call, but someone had to make it. And Miranda was nowhere to be found.
Someone was out to get Clint Gunderson. He wasn’t about to deliver another tool for hurting Clint right into their hands. And he didn’t have a clue how it tied into their current investigation, but he suspected it did.
These types of coincidences just didn’t happen. “Maybe not to the investigation. But…If someone is looking for a way to get even with Clint Gunderson, finding Maggie Tyler and his daughter and his unborn child would be an excellent place for them to start. I am not about to let that happen.”
Green eyes met his. Dr. Compton nodded. “I’ll see if I can rally my creative side.”
“Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”
“I’ll remember that.”
49
It took several hours to process Clint Gunderson’s home. The sheriff of Masterson County had arrived halfway through the process, both of his Deputy Lowells trailing after him. It had caused some confusion at first—until Knight had reali
zed the male and female deputies weren’t married—but were first cousins.
Small towns. Of course.
He observed the proceedings with a poker face.
Joel Masterson’s wife was Maggie Tyler’s cousin, and they were close. But Joel held himself like the professional that he was.
Finally, Knight and Joel were able to extract Clint from the WSP and the DCI and take him back to Masterson. Joel forced Clint to sit, to drink something.
“We need to talk,” Joel said softly when it was just him and Knight and Clint.
“I need to find my daughter. My…Maggie. I need to find Maggie. She’s got to be terrified right now.”
Someone knocked softly on the door. It slid open, and there Miranda was.
A knot of tension that Knight hadn’t been fully aware of loosened. She’d been within a mile of Clint Gunderson’s house today. A part of him had worried that she and Agent Lorcan had been victims of the shooter, too.
Masterson had sent his deputies searching the area around the ranch—but all they’d found had been some fresh gray paint on a nearby guardrail and tire tracks where a larger truck had skidded on the road. That had been it. It had been enough to have Masterson sending a third deputy up the road searching for them. Quietly.
Knight had been trying Miranda’s phone every twenty minutes since.
Miranda went straight to her old buddy Clint and knelt in front of him. “Clint? I want you to look at me. They’ll be ok. I promise.”
“I—I don’t know where they are.”
Miranda smiled so softly that Knight did a double take. The woman was gorgeous when she smiled like that. And up to something.
Dangerous. The woman was dangerous. In more ways than one.
“I do.”
Clint stiffened.
“What the hell, Sunny?” Knight couldn’t help but ask, the nickname slipping out against his will. Miranda shot him a quick look and shook her head lightly. “What do you know?’
“Carrie and I found Maggie and Violet walking on the road from the ranch about fifteen minutes after the attack. After a patrol car almost sent our truck over the cliff on Wreck Curve Road. Carrie is texting the partial plate to Zach Lowell now. Once Maggie informed us what had happened, and that she definitively recognized a WSP patrol car in the drive, we made the decision to remove her from the area for her own safety, after getting her medical attention in a safe place. They are currently on a jet out of the state.” She shot a look at the sheriff. “Her uncle Phil was there, and he’s agreed to go with her.”
“Where are they going?” Clint demanded, hands clenching on the chair arms. No doubt he was resisting the urge to grab Miranda and shake the answer out of her, if necessary. “Randi, where is she? I need to talk to her, to know they are all right. All three of them.”
“Three?” Joel asked.
“Maggie’s pregnant,” Clint said. The poor man still looked shell-shocked. “The baby’s mine.”
Miranda covered his hands with hers. She said his name a few times, until he looked at her. “Clint, we…we decided we’re not releasing her location to anyone for now, except those in this room. Just to be safe. Carrie also accompanied them to their destination—in Finley Creek. They are well-guarded—and away from the WSP and DCI. We thought that was important, as she did state that a WSP patrolman was the one responsible for the shooting; Carrie and I can confirm one was near your home. She just didn’t get a good enough look at him to identify him fully.” Miranda leaned closer, resting her forehead against the other man’s. Clint didn’t pull away. Knight observed as Clint pulled in several deep breaths and tried to regain some sense of composure. “Only Carrie and I know her ultimate destination. They are ok. I promise.”
Clint’s hands slipped out from hers and tightened around her forearms. Knight straightened. A man in Clint’s frame of mind could snap and turn dangerous in an instant. “You swear to me she—they—are all safe? Not hurt?”
“They are safe. As far away from here as I could arrange that quickly. You know I won’t let anything happen to Violet, Clint. Or Maggie. I’ve known her since I was nine. And I know you love them. I’ll keep them safe until they can come home to you. And I’m going to find the man who took potshots near my goddaughter. I need you to trust me right now. They’re both ok. Maggie was hit by a piece of the barn when it was struck, but we got her medical help, and she’s fine. Less than a dozen stitches. She didn’t even need a painkiller.”
“I do love them. So much, I can’t breathe. They are my life. Both of them. They…they are what matters. Why I am even still here.” Clint pulled himself together right there. “I’m going to find the son-of-a-bitch responsible, WSP or not. And when I do, I’ll kill him. With my bare hands. You’d better be ready for that.”
Knight tried not to flinch.
How was Clint Gunderson holding himself together right now? Knight didn’t know if he would have been able to be as strong. Maybe not having people who mattered was a blessing in disguise.
At least he’d never hurt like that.
There was no way he was letting Clint ruin his life like that.
Knight wasn’t going to let Clint out of his sight until the shooter was caught.
50
Joel pushed back the worry for Maggie and baby Violet and watched as the crime scene team continued to work on Clint’s ranch. He’d never been out there before, but this was his second time tonight. He’d left Clint with Knight and returned to the scene in time to find Clint’s yellow lab hiding under a chicken coop at the back of the property, licking a graze on his side.
Joel had coaxed the dog out and had made contact with Miranda’s cousin, Dusty. Dusty was on her way in to collect the dog and take him back to Joel’s brother’s vet clinic, until Clint could collect him himself.
The dog’s wound explained some of the blood. Joel was just glad it was canine blood in the front yard instead of human. More blood had been found in the barn near an older gelding’s stall. The horse had been beside himself, but unhurt.
The diaper bag had been found in the middle of the barn. Fully stocked—and covered in blood.
Miranda had reported the blood was Maggie’s, but Maggie hadn’t been seriously hurt. Thank God.
The baby didn’t have a scratch. Joel thanked the man above for that, too.
The place reminded him of his father-in-law Phil’s place. Phil’s ranch had the same run-down feel, but where Phil’s home was bursting with life and kids and drew a man in before he could resist—Joel knew that from personal experience—this place seemed sad and broken. It lacked the hope that Phil’s place exuded. The welcome.
There was new wood on the porch where Clint had replaced the old support beams. It hadn’t been stained to match yet.
Bullet rounds were embedded in some of that new pine. Glass from the shattered windows nearby littered the porch itself. There were six windows on the front of the small ranch house. Four of them were shot out.
Maggie and an innocent baby could have died here today. Maggie; his wife’s cousin, a sweet woman who would do whatever she could to help her family.
And for what?
He didn’t have a clue. Yet. But he would.
Knight had assigned himself to Clint, and Joel appreciated it. The two men had hit it off, though neither had exactly said anything.
The man’s baby was missing. It was a wonder Clint was holding himself together at all. Both his babies, in a way.
That thought had him wincing. Joel had his own pregnant wife at home. The pain Clint had to be feeling right now sickened him. He was just glad Knight had gotten Clint off scene while forensics could process.
Any minute now, Maggie Tyler’s brothers were going to show up, all five of them, demanding to know where she was. He was happy Clint was not going to be there when they arrived.
He didn’t want a Tyler mob ripping Clint apart for touching their baby sister right now. Joel made a quick decision—one for the peace of his county. Maggi
e’s pregnancy was just going to have to remain a secret for the time being. Besides, it wasn’t his place to tell her brothers that information.
Joel didn’t have a clue what to tell them. He’d better think of something fast.
Tylers had a reputation around town. And he just didn’t have the time to diffuse a bomb right now. And when they learned Maggie was missing…
He was actually contemplating calling in the Wyoming National Guard for the moment that happened.
There were a lot of Tylers in his county. And they protected each other, fiercely. Joel had seen it firsthand.
His cell rang. Sage Lowell was usually one step ahead of him, and Joel greatly appreciated her. “Sage? What have you got for me?”
“Eight reports of a WSP patrol car being driven erratically on the highway between Clint’s place and town.”
“Reputable?”
“Well, since four came from your family members—your mother and brother, Matt, not to mention your wife, who was with her sister, Perci, who corroborates—I’m going to say yes. Highly reputable.”
“Do we know who?” There was a good possibility they had a WSP patrolman in pursuit of the shooter—but they would have already heard about it. He’d just ignore the mention of Phoebe being near any of what had happened today. For his own peace of mind.
Clint Gunderson wasn’t the only man who had a Tyler woman they loved out there to worry about.
“Boss, partial plates and tentative identification by a witness says it was most likely Officer Jim Hollace. I called as soon as I put the name together. Isn’t he the officer who we’ve already spoken to regarding the Caudrell case?”
“Yes.” Joel’s mind ran all over the angles. Nothing made sense, unless he factored in that Jim Hollace was as dirty as his old buddy Clive Gunderson.
And had targeted Clint because of it. Weatherby had told him himself there was history between Hollace and Clint. None of it good.
Buried Secrets: PAVAD: FBI Case File #0005 (PAVAD: FBI Case Files) Page 18
