The Survivor

by DiAnn Mills

  More bad news. “So Amy was right about the custom rims. But if it wasn’t Baxter, then who was it?” She shook her head. “Of course you don’t know.”

  “What have you done to make someone angry enough to possibly want you dead?”

  She startled. She hadn’t considered anyone wanting her dead, just deterred from writing Amy’s story. Tigo was overreacting. “Could this be carryover from the gun-smuggling case?”

  He lifted a brow. “Those guys are either buried or in jail, so they couldn’t have run your car off the road. Bad guys play for keeps. If they wanted you dead, they wouldn’t have run you off the road and then left without making sure they finished the job.”

  Oh yes, she recalled the repercussions of upsetting the wrong people.

  “I’ll rest my case on your observations—for now,” Tigo said. “But what about the emails? Would you forward all of them so we can put a trace on them?”

  “Sure.” Kariss reconsidered the content of the emails and grew perturbed at her lack of sleuthing skills. “I must be losing my touch.”

  He smiled. “What have you put together?”

  “The emails sent from S. Todd and J. T. Ripper? Sweeney Todd and Jack the Ripper slit their victims’ throats. The sender must have thought he was being clever. That pattern also fits the sender of the card and funeral wreath.”

  “More evidence of someone’s instability. Garrett probably arranged to have the second email sent at a designated time. Ties in too closely to his sister’s attack.” Tigo took a long drink of iced tea. The look of desire he gave Kariss made her shiver. Especially since she felt the same. She stared at the canoe displayed on the wall … it had a huge hole and no bucket.

  Her iPhone buzzed, alerting her to a Facebook post. In an attempt to keep her feelings for Tigo at a distance, she took a glance. “Amazes me the number of weirdos roaming the streets. Mike McDougal is one of them.”

  “What now?”

  “He tagged me regarding his latest blog. Why can’t the man leave it alone? Find another female to exasperate.”

  “He can’t get you out of his system. You’ve handled him before and done a fine job.”

  She frowned. “Right. He called today wanting information about the accident. Warned me about my lack of cooperation.”

  “Oh, let’s hear the blog post. It’ll give us some comic relief.”

  Kariss doubted Mike’s blog would offer any humor, but she brought it up and dived into his latest post.

  “‘Houston’s own Kariss Walker, New York Times bestselling author, has proven again that her past friends are exactly that—the past. Upon learning she’d been in a hit-and-run accident, I called to make sure she was okay. I wanted to check to see if she was hurt or needed anything. What a waste. She tossed me off like yesterday’s trash. I’d seen her in December at Houston’s Annual Authors’ Dinner, and she’d ignored me then too. Odd, she didn’t have her FBI bodyguard boyfriend with her at the event. Probably why she wore a low-cut, red-sequined gown and a come-on look that said she was single again. Saw her alone at a New Year’s Eve gala as well. Whoa. Short and black. The sirens went nuts. In any event, Ms. Walker’s attitude will one day cost her admirers. Could be today.”

  Tigo chuckled. “I missed the red-sequined gown and the short, black getup?”

  “Neither was cut low.” She shook her head. McDougal infuriated her. “Just simple evening dresses.”

  “Did he ask you out, or shouldn’t I ask?”

  She wanted to smack the smirk off Tigo’s face. “He did, but I was strong and didn’t fall for his charms. At least he doesn’t know about my friendship with Amy Garrett, or he’d be after an exclusive.”

  Tigo studied her. His face softened, indicating his teasing had vanished. “Kariss, why do you think you’re being targeted? The sender of those emails is aligning himself with villains who enjoyed a neck spray.”

  “No clue. That’s your department.” She remembered what Amy had said about her assailant quoting lines from Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood. The email sender’s names … Fiction … A man who read stories about violent crimes …

  No, that wasn’t possible. Why would he know about her or have her email address? She wouldn’t even mention it.

  Tigo reached for her hand. The moment his fingers touched hers, she slid her hand back. Burned. Every definition of the word raced across her mind.

  “Sorry.” He picked up his glass again, but it didn’t reach his lips. “Is there someone else?”

  How could there ever be? “No. Just me and my laptop. Living in a fiction world keeps me busy.” She wanted to laugh but couldn’t.

  “I miss you, more than I ever thought possible,” he said. “What I wouldn’t give for an opportunity to start over. To show you I can be the man who makes you happy.” He sighed and set the glass on the table. “I want to tell you the truth—about everything.”

  She missed him too, ached for him. But she chose silence.

  “Kariss, we can’t keep running around the track. To make things work between us, we’ve got to jump the hurdle.” He leaned back in his chair. “Let me tell you what I do know. I’ve read enough of the Bible and listened enough in church to understand that you’d never consider a serious relationship with a guy who doesn’t share your beliefs. But even if I became a Christian this very minute, it wouldn’t make any difference if I couldn’t tell you why I kept my divorce from you.”

  He’d said it. The big ugly. She nodded and noted the thickening in her throat.

  “I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He brushed his hand through his hair. “I kept putting it off. Then it was too late. You found out from Linc.”

  Kariss knew this was hard for Tigo, but she wouldn’t interrupt or talk about Linc’s role.

  “The Monday after Thanksgiving, he told me what happened,” he said. “I was down. Told him we’d split. He said he’d told you it had been a long time since he’d seen me happy. Thanked you. Told you that after Erin lost the baby and divorced me, I’d lost focus. That I’d headed off to Saudi.”

  “You can’t blame Linc.”

  “I don’t. Only my own stupidity.”

  Why did Kariss fear losing Tigo by asking for more information? She couldn’t lose someone she no longer had. “Do you want to continue?”

  “No. But I will. There’s a lot at stake.” He sipped his iced tea. A frown creased his brow. “I could use something stronger, but liquid courage isn’t my poison anymore.”

  Kariss wondered how the rest of the story would affect her heart.

  “Erin and I met in college and married two weeks after graduation. We were young. Thought a good time in bed was the basis for life. We argued right from the start. Sarcasm was at an all-time high. Within the first year, we got pregnant. My dad hadn’t been there for me, and I refused to be the same as him. So I tried to keep our marriage afloat. Really tried. Later I learned Erin had given up on the marriage before she even learned about the pregnancy. Then she miscarried.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “When the doctor released her from the hospital, she went to a hotel. While I was at work, her parents drove in from West Virginia and moved her home with them. That’s it. Pathetic, huh?”

  “No, Tigo, it’s not. When did you plan to tell me?”

  “No idea.” He moistened his lips and returned to his story. “I called her cell a few times. Called her parents’ home. But no one ever returned my messages. The divorce papers came. I signed them. Got drunk. Signed up for a security job in Saudi, making use of my experience in the marines.” The pain in his eyes matched the hurt she was attempting to hide. “I didn’t fight hard enough for my marriage.” He paused. “I was afraid of getting hurt again. The truth doesn’t set anyone free. It only makes bad issues stink.”

  “I would have listened.”

  “I know. So what’s the verdict?”

  Kariss wanted a relationship with Tigo. But God wanted one more.

  CHAPTER 34
>
  8:15 P.M. MONDAY

  Tigo shoved the situation with Kariss into a holding pattern until he could think through his options—and their talk. Her eyes said they still had a chance, but he had work to do on himself. He knew it, and he avoided it. Seeing a shrink was not his style. Probably his so-called pride.

  Linc and Ryan had given him the same advice—God would help him if he opened his heart. Canned response. But if Tigo gave up searching for meaning in his life, he’d break his promise to his mother and never have a relationship with Kariss. Was God blackmailing him, or was this indecision and doubt part of the process?

  Driving to Jonathan Yeat’s home, where he’d meet Ryan, Tigo shifted into agent mode. He knew it was unlikely they’d find anything of note among Joanna’s and Alexia’s personal belongings. Investigators from the FBI and HPD had searched every corner of the house and found nothing pointing to the bomber. Computers and other communication devices had been confiscated, imaged, and returned. Every cabinet and drawer emptied. And all of it had yielded nothing. But a killer had been successful in snuffing out two lives, and Tigo couldn’t rest until the person was found.

  Tigo greeted the guard at the community gates and showed his ID before driving through. He parked his truck outside the Yeat entrance and surveyed the crime scene while he waited for Ryan. When Ryan arrived, they walked to the house together, where Jonathan greeted them at the door. The man had aged in less than a week. Traces of gray wove through his closely cropped hair, his face looked haggard, and his shoulders slumped. Still he welcomed the agents inside his home. Always the gracious host.

  “Can we talk in my study?” The creases on his forehead were new. “I haven’t told the boys what I learned from you today, and until I make peace with it, I can’t expect them to understand this new … devastation.”

  “Jonathan,” Ryan began, “unfortunately, there’s been a media leak. Sources tell us they’ve learned about Joanna’s past. Media outlets will break the story by morning.”

  The man paled. “That means I have to tell my sons tonight.”

  Behind the closed doors of the study, Jonathan sat at his desk and stared at a photo of his now-shattered family, a replica of the same portrait that hung in the foyer.

  “A man believes he knows his wife.” Jonathan’s voice quivered. “Loves her. Trusts her. And then his whole world collapses. I should have asked about her past when she offered, but it didn’t matter then. I’ve discovered more about Joanna since her death than I ever did while she was alive.” He glanced up. “Have you located David Smith?” Tigo could see the man was nearing a breakdown.

  Tigo nodded at Ryan to field the question.

  “Not yet. David Smith is one of several names this man has used. Our people are working on it. Have you uncovered anything?” Ryan said. “A receipt? A questionable entry on a credit card statement? Do you recall any conversations with Joanna that didn’t make sense?”

  “Nothing. She didn’t talk much about her life here before we met. Our conversations were more about her growing-up years in Memphis. She attended college in Houston. We met at church while she was working at the medical center downtown. Then her sisters moved here seven years ago, and the chaos began.”

  “How did their move change things?” Ryan’s gentle voice seemed to help Jonathan relax.

  Jonathan folded his hands on the desktop. “Joanna’s mother died, and the sisters relocated here with their father. It was Joanna’s idea so the family could live closer. We paid all the relocation expenses.” Bitterness dripped from his words.

  Did Jonathan regret his marriage? Certainly the heartache would leave a question in any man’s mind.

  “Was their father at the funeral?” Ryan said.

  “He died about three years ago. Heart attack.” Jonathan lifted a bottle of water to his lips. He drank in fully, as though it would give him new stamina. “I appreciate your tag-team approach. Tigo, you’re all about the facts. Ryan, you take a gentler approach, and you’re a man of God. It’s not surprising Linc says you two are the best.” He blew his nose. “I’m okay. Today’s been the worst since the bombing, but I’m committed to whatever it takes to find out who stole my girls’ lives. I firmly believe I was the target, but I know the investigation has to look at every angle.”

  “Thank you, Jonathan.” Ryan smiled. “We’re not the bad guys, and we’re glad you see that. We have another tough question for you, so brace yourself.”

  Jonathan lifted a brow. “All right.”

  “Ian has a reputation for being rebellious. We understand you and Joanna didn’t agree about disciplinary measures.”

  Jonathan’s eyes sparked. “Guess the FBI finds out everything people try to hide.” His words weren’t harsh but were filled with passion. “I was the lenient one.” He paused. “Lately I’ve been thinking about things. Regarding Ian, she may have been right. He’s the middle child. Doesn’t know where he fits.” He lifted his chin. “But my son would not have attempted to take my life or his mother’s and sister’s.”

  “We understand, but we’ll need to talk to him later about the man he saw with his mother. That man might have been David Smith.” Ryan nodded at Tigo to take over.

  Tigo hesitated over the direction his questioning needed to take, but the more they learned about Joanna’s personal life, the sooner the current suspects could be narrowed and possible new ones added. “What else can you tell us about Darena and Joanna? Why didn’t they get along? Other than Joanna attempting to break up Darena’s affair with Taylor.”

  “One dirty mess after another. Knew you’d find out about it sooner or later.” Jonathan frowned. “Darena was jealous of what Joanna had, every aspect of Joanna’s physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. But my girl never gave up. Loved her sister unconditionally, even when Darena spit in her face.”

  “Do you think Darena despised Joanna enough to kill her?”

  Jonathan picked up the photo of his family. “I’ve thought about it. She definitely has her own agenda.” Contempt curled the side of his mouth.

  “The bomber was a professional.”

  “Darena could have hired him. I’ve seen her in action … But murder is a terrible accusation. I did a little research about Semtex,” Jonathan said. “Points more to the bomb having my name on it. Or was that a ruse to throw off investigators? I’m so confused.”

  “We’ll get the answers.” Tigo needed to probe further. “We wanted to hear from you about your brother and Darena.”

  “How did you find out about those two?”

  “I overheard a conversation the day of the funeral.”

  “Joanna tried talking some sense into Darena. Her husband adores her, and he’s a good provider. But he lets Darena walk all over him. When Joanna got nowhere with her, I asked Taylor about his unfaithfulness. He said God had put him and Darena together.” Jonathan sighed. “Probably a direct quote from her. My brother knows the consequences of sin. I threatened to go to his wife but didn’t follow through.”

  Tigo listened while Jonathan complained about Joanna’s sisters—their selfishness, their repulsive behavior, how they used Joanna. He despised them both.

  “Now Darena has her clutches in my brother, a man of God. The church will crumble when this surfaces … I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem.” Jonathan pushed back from his desk. “It’s time to go through Joanna’s and Alexia’s things.”

  Tigo studied the anguish on Jonathan’s face. “It’s not our purpose to invade your privacy. We’ll work fast.”

  Jonathan stood. “One more thing you should know … The last time Joanna talked to Darena about her affair with Taylor, Darena said she’d see Joanna dead before she allowed her to ruin her life.”

  Tigo tucked the statement into his arsenal of questions for Darena’s interview in the morning.

  Jonathan opened the office door. “I’ve been sleeping in the guest room since the bombing. Been in the bedroom only for clothes. It feels haunted to me.” He gasped as tho
ugh reality had suddenly plunged into his heart. “I’ll do anything to get to the bottom of this.”

  Joanna and Jonathan’s master bedroom was bigger than Tigo’s living and dining rooms combined, and he had a large home. Windows lined a circular sitting area that overlooked the pool outside, which allowed natural light to focus on a bed that appeared larger than a king. Shades of dark orange and gold added to an opulent feel. A foot-wide wood molding framed a hand-painted ceiling.

  Whoa.

  Tigo couldn’t imagine such luxury … But wealth may have cost Jonathan the lives of his wife and daughter. The investigation could still lead to a disgruntled worker or someone in competition with Yeat’s Commercial Construction. If someone had been plotting to kill Joanna for a long time, he couldn’t have anticipated the exchange of cars the morning of the bombing. So many scenarios.

  “Just do it.” Jonathan shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Maybe an item will trigger a memory. The mattress has already been flipped and the bedding analyzed.”

  Tigo didn’t comment on the latter statement. Slipping on latex gloves, Tigo and Ryan painstakingly sorted through each drawer assigned to Joanna. Undergarments were neatly folded. Everything was in place. They repeated the procedure with Jonathan’s drawers. Nothing out of the ordinary. No receipts or purchases. No perfume or jewelry items that Jonathan didn’t know the origin of. When they asked Jonathan about an anniversary necklace containing a diamond surrounded by their children’s birthstones that he had given Joanna five years ago, tears filled his eyes.

  A hidden vault behind a picture didn’t offer any leads either.

  “I have a safe-deposit box that you’re welcome to search,” Jonathan said. “I went there today to see if I could find anything of question. Found nothing that would help you. According to bank records, I was the last person to examine the contents.”

  Tigo wished he’d accompanied Jonathan to the bank. “Did you have your bodyguard take you?”