by DiAnn Mills
He had a lawn service.
A housecleaning service.
A reputable dealer to service his car.
A dry-cleaning service to keep his clothes clean and repaired.
Phone service to ensure he stayed connected to the world.
Internet service so he could search out global information.
But he didn’t have a service to repair the crack in his spirit.
He understood loneliness, but he knew Kariss couldn’t cure the longing in him for something he couldn’t name. So he searched and often wondered if God held the missing piece. If God had all this unconditional love, why did He allow countless crimes against the innocent? Or the premature death of Tigo’s mother? Or the big screwup with Kariss? All the songs and Scripture and sermons about a great God didn’t make sense when violence erupted and tragedies hit. Did Tigo believe in God or not?
He exited his truck and noted chores that needed to be done to keep the garage spotless. But why bother? Who cared? He wasn’t simply frustrated—he was furious.
If only he could have a discussion with God, ask Him why He allowed psychopaths and genocides to exist. Or the countless other questions that kept him up at night.
His work phone rang, and he snatched it from the seat of his truck as though the caller were God.
“We located Carolyn Hopkins in Arkansas, and she’s in transit back to Houston,” an agent said. “You and Special Agent Ryan Steadman can interview her around three o’clock. He’s confirmed the time.”
“I’ll be there. Has she given a statement?”
“Nothing other than she hates Yeat and claims she was driving to see her family during the time of the bombing.”
“I doubt her parole officer gave her permission to leave the state. Anything else?”
“She was packing a stolen gun.”
“Looks like she just renewed her reservation at the state prison.”
Tigo ended the call, dropped the phone into his pocket, and opened the truck door. He could use answers today, beginning at three o’clock.
2:15 P.M. SUNDAY
“Why are you so antsy?” Vicki said.
Kariss swallowed the butterflies hatching in her stomach and smiled at her sister. “Your color is much better today. Having Mom here to keep you in bed was a good idea. Glad she canceled the family lunch today. You couldn’t have handled the drive to Texas City.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“I told Tigo I’d call. Give him an update on how you were doing.”
Vicki tilted her head. “Rose and I are going to nap. We don’t need a babysitter. So take your cell phone to your office and be a good girl.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I’ve made a decision.”
Kariss lifted a brow.
“I’m not going to bother you about what happened with Tigo until you’re ready to talk.”
“Thanks, sis. Probably wouldn’t seem big to you, but—”
“Go call him.”
Kariss tossed a frown at her sister and headed to her office. After staring at the phone for several seconds, she placed the call. And hoped it wouldn’t be confrontational.
“Hey. Can’t sleep on a Sunday afternoon?” His familiar voice ushered in sweet memories.
“Too full. Mom made carrot cake, and I ate the last piece.”
Tigo moaned. “Okay, you won that round. How’s Vicki?”
“Minding Mom, which is worse than taking doctor’s orders. Mom’s been assigned to bedroom duty since Friday afternoon.”
“Good, and thanks for the update. Tell her that mommies and FBI agents have to keep up their strength.”
Kariss giggled. She’d missed their talks … and the wit … and the laughter. “I will.”
“Do you still play Word Family?”
“Every chance I get.”
“When was the last time you were challenged by a winner?”
Word Family was an app on her phone, a game they used to play together. “I believe I have the trophy on the last three games.”
“I’m out to cut my losses. Be expecting my word. Gotta run to an interview now.”
After disconnecting, Kariss gingerly laid her cell phone on the desk as though it were Rose. Sixty seconds later, her phone alerted her to a Word Family play. Tigo had chosen R-E-G-R-E-T.
CHAPTER 23
3:30 P.M. SUNDAY
Tigo watched Carolyn Hopkins, who was seated across from him. The years of drug and alcohol abuse, along with a belligerent attitude that came with a total of six years in prison and an aversion to rehabilitation, had hardened the woman’s features. Her bloodshot eyes and slurred speech indicated she’d recently dived into the devil cocaine, her drug of choice, according to her record. This type of interview always challenged Tigo, seeing what it took to draw out the truth. But she’d stretched his patience to the limit. In the past thirty minutes, Hopkins had pleaded the fifth so often, Tigo wanted to toss her rear back in jail.
He gave Ryan a smile before focusing on her again. “You’re a lousy liar, Carolyn. Your stories don’t line up. Which tells me you’re guilty of murder.”
Carolyn brushed a strand of strawlike hair from her face, revealing fingernails bitten to the quick. “I despised Jonathan Yeat, but I didn’t plant a bomb in his car.”
“What did he do wrong? Didn’t he give you a job after you were released from prison?”
Lines splayed from the corners of her eyes. “He paid diddly. Then took the job away. Called it cutbacks due to current economic times.”
“What did you do for him?”
“Cleaned toilets and swept the floors. Got paid barely above minimum wage.”
Not enough to finance a drug habit. Tigo picked up her work record. “You’d been warned about absences.”
“Some days I didn’t feel work was important. People shouldn’t have to clock in if they’d rather be doing something else.”
Tigo had met people with her type of work ethic before. “Did you want Jonathan Yeat dead?”
“Nice thought, Agent Harris, but I didn’t do it.” She paused and rubbed her nose. “I was on the road to Arkansas for a family reunion.” She leaned in closer, giving Tigo a clear view of wrinkled cleavage.
“If you didn’t plant the bomb, then who did?”
“Do I look like a walking Wikipedia?”
“You broke your parole by leaving the state, and you have a stolen gun in your possession. That says you know more than you’re telling us.”
Her lips trembled. “I needed protection.”
“From who? Your pimp?”
“Business associates.” Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.
“Special Agent Steadman and I can help you there. Because violating your parole will get you all the protection you need. Even a guard and three squares for as long as you’d like, probably longer.”
She played with a strand of hair at her temple. “You think you’re so smart.”
“I’m sure of it.” He watched her gaze dart around the interview room. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll see the judge goes easy on you.”
“If I had a name, I’d give it to you. But I don’t know nothin’.”
“What about Semtex?”
“No clue what that is.”
“Really? So you aren’t going to help us. Hey, I heard you had a kid.”
“She’s in a foster home where she belongs. So don’t pull the ‘be a good mama’ routine. I’m not buyin’ it.”
Tigo stood. Pathetic. Carolyn didn’t care about anything or anyone but herself. “We’re done here until you’re ready to talk.”
“You sending me back to Huntsville?”
“A limo is waiting.”
“You’re signing my death warrant.”
Tigo leaned on the table and captured her attention. “Your choice.”
She pressed her lips together.
Who was she afraid of? What would it take to make her talk?
&nbs
p; 5:25 P.M. SUNDAY
Kariss walked through the security gate of her community and returned the guard’s wave, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. Even with an umbrella, the slow drizzle chilled her to the bone, but it matched her disheartened mood. After her parents had left, Kariss decided to take a walk while Vicki rested and attempt to sort through the thoughts warring against her heart. As the cold splatters of rain pelted her umbrella, she pondered the situation. She’d used Tigo’s past to shape her future, but not in the way her loved ones believed.
What if her parents knew the truth about Tigo? She wished she knew the circumstances. Losing a baby and then having his wife leave him had to have been horrible, but why hadn’t he told her? Had enough time passed that the two could talk without arguing? Then there was the problem of his lack of faith. Why did love have to be so hard?
Living alone wasn’t so bad. Kariss had lived as a single since graduating from college and had adjusted quite well. Her habits were like cured concrete. Those things that ordered her life would be difficult to change. But her life was empty.
She missed Tigo, and swapping words on a phone game wasn’t going to make her feel any better. Just before leaving her condo, she’d used the first R in regret to play T-R-U-T-H. Together, she and Tigo sounded like candidates for group therapy. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she typed a text.
WE NEED 2 TALK
When he didn’t respond, she walked back to the security gate, where the guard waved at her again.
“Miss Walker, I have a delivery for you,” the white-haired man said.
On a Sunday?
“I didn’t know anyone had died.” He handed her a funeral wreath covered in lilies. “I’m real sorry.”
Kariss startled. “There must be a mistake.”
“Take a look at the card. Maybe that will help.”
She opened the envelope and read the typed note.
“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”
Ice pelted Kariss’s veins. Edgar Allan Poe.
CHAPTER 24
5:30 P.M. SUNDAY
Tigo sat in his recliner with his secure laptop and listed what he knew about the Yeat bombing. Months before, he’d done this kind of work at his mother’s bedside. While she was unconscious, teetering near death, he’d labor over his latest case, often sharing with her what puzzled him … and his dilemmas about unsolved aspects. Close to the end, he’d talked to her about Kariss. His mother’s inability to communicate hadn’t mattered. He knew she cared. Now her absence left an ache in his heart. He missed her and hoped she’d died knowing how much he loved and treasured her.
He glanced down the hallway that led to what had once been her bedroom. She’d wanted him to consider mentoring teen boys who were headed down the wrong path, but he hadn’t pursued it—yet. Probably a topic to bring up with Ryan, since his church had a large youth group, and some of the kids lived in Hispanic neighborhoods. Tigo could relate to the pressures, do the big brother thing. Someday soon he needed to act on it.
Turning his attention to the Yeat case, he pushed aside his loneliness to concentrate on finding who’d bombed the car. Forensics hadn’t turned up anything further, but the investigators were still sorting through rubble and running diagnostics. This bad guy knew how to cover his tracks.
Before spreading out his notes on the table, he made a list of suspects and noted whether follow-up had been done or needed to be done. The interviews and various reports were only a click away, and somewhere in all of this mess was a bad guy who’d made a mistake.
Angela Bronston—Joanna’s sister. Joanna persuaded her to give up her baby. Need to question.
Roger Collins—Ex-con, laid off from work. Unreliable alibi. Being tailed.
Carolyn Hopkins—Ex-con, caught in Arkansas. Hostile. May have information. Currently incarcerated.
Darena Willis—Joanna’s sister. Having an affair with Taylor Yeat. Hostile. Need to question.
Jonathan Yeat—Favoritism between his sons caused marital issues. Body language indicates denial of such problems.
Ian Yeat—Angry, rebellious teen. Quarreled with Joanna about unidentified man.
Taylor Yeat—Seemed to grieve for Joanna, but that could be an act. Having an affair with Joanna’s sister. Need to question.
The unidentified Caucasian man Ian saw with Joanna.
No one else fell under Tigo’s scrutiny. But with the right connections, any of these suspects could have accessed Semtex. Roger Collins and Carolyn Hopkins most likely knew how to make a bomb or had a source with those skills. The other suspects would have had to find an explosives expert to do their dirty work. Tigo’s informants were working on leads.
He started another list for anyone who might be withholding information. Two people made that list.
Vanessa Whitcom—Worked for Jonathan for eight years. Joanna’s friend. Didn’t attend the funeral. Need to question again.
Curt Yeat—Responsible teen who covers for Ian. What’s he hiding?
Jonathan didn’t have a partner in his firm. The interviews with contractors and subcontractors indicated an allegiance to a man who’d built his commercial construction company with integrity. Even those companies in direct competition with Jonathan’s company cleared investigation. But the killer had overseas connections somewhere.
Tigo rubbed his face, frustrated with the complexity of the case. Going undercover was more to his liking. When he was undercover, all he had to do was catch someone in the act of breaking the law. He saved his documents and texted Ryan.
SENDING YEAT INFO. CAN U TALK?
N 10 MIN.
A few minutes later, Ryan called. “Who do we interview first?”
“I’m thinking about going to church.”
“What?”
“Pastor Taylor Yeat’s church. There’s a Sunday-night service at seven o’clock.”
Ryan chuckled. “Got it. I’ll drive. Pick you up in a few minutes. Grabbing my keys now.”
“What are our chances of talking to a couple of sisters tonight?”
Tigo heard the hum of Ryan’s garage door opening and the sound of an engine roaring into action. “The conversation you overheard was pretty toxic.”
“I also want to find out why Vanessa Whitcom didn’t attend the funeral. She’s a church member too.”
“And here I thought you wanted a dose of God’s Word.”
Tigo smiled, understanding that Ryan wanted him to step into Christianity with both feet. “I’m sure I’ll get it. One way or the other.”
“I prefer sooner rather than later. Did you see what Vanessa turned over on her desk when we walked into her office?” Ryan said.
“Missed it.”
“That’s why you have me. You were too busy carrying her cranberry slush and turning on the charm. Anyway, it was a photo of Jonathan, and she laid a pad of paper over it.”
“Interesting. This thing weaves tighter and tighter. I wondered if she had more than a loyal interest in him.” Tigo typed “Possibly in love with Jonathan” after her name on his list.
“Right. Did Linc have anything to add after the funeral?” Ryan interrupted himself with a moan. “A car’s stalled in front of me.”
“We have plenty of time. Linc suspected Taylor and his wife were having problems, but he didn’t think the man was stupid enough to have an affair, and certainly not with Darena. She must have quite a reputation.”
“Gives hypocrite a whole new flair. I hope you aren’t judging all Christians from a few rotten apples.”
Tigo laughed. “I do understand the difference.” He remembered his mother’s strong beliefs … and those of Kariss’s family. “I’m wondering if Darena hated her sister enough to hire a killer. I also wonder if Joanna had approached her about the affair.”
“I imagine so.”
“We’re going to raise a few eyebrows tonight,” Ryan said. “Let’s find out who
doesn’t want to cooperate. See you in a few.”
Tigo’s phone alerted him to a text from Kariss. He typed out a response.
WILL CALL LATER. GOING 2 CHURCH.
He needed time to think about her text.
CHAPTER 25
6:40 P.M. SUNDAY
Kariss dropped the funeral flowers into the trash bin but kept the card. Her insides knotted. Why the flowers had been sent was obvious, and the who was Baxter Garrett. As she walked into the house, she decided she wouldn’t mention it to Vicki. She’d just pretend everything was fine. She smiled at her sister, who started chatting away about their parents and Rose.
“With all that’s been going on, I didn’t ask about yesterday’s meeting with Dr. Garrett,” Vicki said, changing the subject. She lifted Rose to her shoulder and patted her back. “Did I ever tell you I attended one of her seminars?”
The announcement took Kariss by surprise. “When was this?”
“Last December when you were in New York visiting your publisher. Her talk about dealing with violence helped me forgive Wyatt.”
But Kariss wasn’t so sure Amy had forgiven her abductor. Yesterday afternoon her tone had been matter-of-fact, even dismissive at times, but Kariss had sensed an undercurrent of raw emotion behind the controlled facade. “I’m glad, sis. She’s helped a lot of women.”
“Because of her, I decided to continue counseling.”
Kariss despised the physical and mental trauma her sister had experienced over the past year—a divorce, an unplanned pregnancy, Wyatt’s criminal involvement and subsequent death. Everything. Vicki deserved peace in her life. Kariss could use a little too.
“I wish I could change what happened Friday morning,” Kariss said. “My prayer for you and baby Rose is for a sweet life filled with blessings.”
Vicki glanced away, her eyes moist. “We can’t change the past, so we move on.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not frail, and I’m working through my mistakes with Wyatt. The shame and guilt still jump into my mind. Nightmares rake at my heart. It’s hard to trust again when you’ve been hurt.” She smiled. “Listen to me. I’m talking in idioms. Like one of the characters in your novels.” She sobered. “Although you’ve never admitted it and the media reports never indicated it, I know in my heart that Wyatt set you up to be killed.” Her expression turned grim. “See, I said the dark ugly for you. No reason for you to harbor guilt either, and don’t tell me it’s not there.”
