by Terri Reed
After the sheriff and the crime scene unit left, Tyler crouched next to Colin. “Let’s get that healthy lunch your mother was talking about so we have fuel in our bellies to get the job done.”
With a solemnness that tore at Tyler’s heart, Colin nodded and tugged on Heather’s hand. “Come on, Mommy. We need fuel.”
Tyler rose. The gratitude in Heather’s hazel eyes gripped him by the throat. She smiled and mouthed, Thank you.
Forcing himself to stay on task, he turned to Nathanial and gestured toward the living room. “Can you deal with this?”
“Yep. Nothing a little duct tape can’t fix,” Nathanial said. “I have some in my to-go bag.”
Not taking the time to ask the Canadian why he traveled with duct tape, Tyler ushered mother and son into the kitchen. Drawers had been removed from their railings; cupboard doors were open and the shelves empty. Dishes were knocked haphazardly on the counter and floor. Fortunately, several had escaped damage.
Without comment, Heather picked up the silverware drawer and threaded the roller on the slide frame to put the drawer back into place. Tyler caught Colin’s eye and pointed to the pots on the floor. The boy immediately replaced the pots and pans to their rightful cabinet, while Tyler tackled putting the dishes in their proper place. Once the kitchen was in working order, Heather shooed Tyler from the room.
“Go help Nathanial,” she said. “Colin and I have this.”
Sensing her need for space, he agreed. “I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”
She smiled her thanks, but her eyes glittered suspiciously. Struggling to maintain his focus and pushing back the urge to pull her into his arms, he turned and left the kitchen.
He joined Nathanial in the living room. He was working on restuffing the couch cushions and securing the insides with long strips of silver duct tape.
“The lady okay?” Nathanial asked.
Tyler gathered books and replaced them on the bookshelf. “Rattled.”
“The good news is, whoever did this won’t be looking here again,” Nathanial stated. “The bad news is they will be looking elsewhere on the farm.”
“We have to get to Seth Larson’s notebook before they do.” Tyler’s fingers flexed around the thick book in his hand. “I wish I knew who ‘they’ were. The farm employs nearly a hundred people, way more than I originally estimated.”
“We start taking names and running them.” Nathanial righted an end table and lamp. “Something will pop.”
Finished with the bookshelves, Tyler repositioned the throw rugs on the hardwood floor. “We need to search the grounds. How many cabins are there?”
“I counted six plus another small house where the tightlipped Rob lives.”
“It might be worth checking that the cabins and Rob’s place haven’t suffered the same fate as the farmhouse.”
“Right.” Nathanial tipped his chin. “You got this?”
“I’ve got this.” Tyler would put everything back in place, sure. But he wouldn’t be able to make this right for Heather until they found that journal. Everything rested on the notebook Seth had hidden. Where was it? And why were the bad guys one step ahead of him? If he failed to catch them...
The fear of failing Heather burrowed in deep, making him even more determined to protect her and her son.
* * *
Later that evening, after restoring Colin’s room to its original form, Heather put Colin down to bed earlier than usual. The day had taken an emotional toll on them both.
She was thankful her bedroom hadn’t suffered the same degree of assault that Seth’s room had. Had the intruder assumed Seth wouldn’t hide the journal where Heather might stumble upon it? The thought that whoever had done this knew her family so well made her skin crawl.
She’d had to bag up Seth’s ruined clothes. No sense in putting them back in the drawers or on the hangers in the closet. Thankfully the bedding had been spared.
The living room looked almost normal. She’d have to replace the lamp, but that was easy enough. The cushions now had duct tape on one side. She appreciated the men’s attempt to patch things together. But nothing could change the fact that her brother was dead and bad people were roaming her family’s farm.
After kissing Colin good-night, she headed downstairs. Tyler sat at the kitchen table with a laptop and a printed list of the farm’s employees he’d obtained from Payroll, which she’d given him access to. She stood in the shadows, watching him work. His broad shoulders were hunched, his fingers pecked at the keys and his focus darted back and forth between the computer screen and the list of names on the sheets of paper at his side.
Two days’ worth of stubble darkened the contours of his strong jaw. The planes and angles of his face were deepened by the play of light from the drop-down light fixture hanging over his head. It was strange to have him in her house, underfoot. Despite the chaos of her home being ransacked and the stress of knowing someone on the farm had killed her brother and was using the farm to peddle drugs, she had every faith that Tyler would keep her and Colin safe. He had a way of making them both feel cared for.
But Tyler was only here temporarily. She would do well to remember that. Soon he would be gone, and her life would return to...what it was before he’d shown up. She could hardly remember what that felt like despite it being less than twenty-four hours ago. She had to guard against letting Tyler break into her heart.
He glanced up and smiled, knocking the breath from her lungs. “Colin settled in for the night?”
She was glad he couldn’t see the heat in her cheeks. “For now.” With a deep breath, she pulled back the attraction zinging through her blood and walked briskly into the kitchen. “I’m making tea. Would you like some? Or would you rather have coffee?”
“Coffee, thank you.” Tyler rose and stretched to his full height. Heather was momentarily dazed as she watched, appreciating his trim muscular frame. When he moved to lean against the kitchen counter, she quickly busied herself with the coffeemaker and the electric kettle.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Her first thought was to prevaricate. Tell him she was just dandy. But she was far from all right. She was freaked out by the danger, attracted like crazy to him and totally irritated by the circumstances she’d found herself in.
All control of her life seemed to have run out the door. She was on the edge and not sure how much more she could take. But she had to hold it together. Be strong. Colin needed her to be strong. “I’m hanging in there.”
Needing to redirect his interest away from her, she asked, “Have you made any discoveries?” He’d told her he wanted to check the employees against the National Crime Information Center’s database.
“So far I’m not finding anything to indicate who might be working with the drug cartel.”
“That’s good, I guess.” She set the kettle to boil for her tea, then readied a coffee mug. “If I hadn’t received that phone call and someone hadn’t trashed my house, I would question whether or not Seth had really helped smuggle drugs using our farm. We saw no sign of drugs today. And I’m assuming your men didn’t either.”
“No, they didn’t. But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s been my experience that those in the drug trade are crafty. They know how to hide their stash from even experienced agents.”
“What about dogs?” She grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and dropped an herbal teabag in one. “Couldn’t you bring in a K-9 unit to sniff out the narcotics?”
“We could and may if we don’t find anything soon. But once we do that, our cover will be blown and we can kiss any chance of shutting the pipeline down goodbye.”
“And you won’t settle for the minions,” she said, remembering what he’d said the night before. She poured hot water into her mug. “You want the head bad guy.”
&
nbsp; He inclined his head. “That’s the goal.”
She admired his dedication even as she prayed his quest to take down the drug cartel didn’t harm her or her son. She prepared his coffee and slid the cup to him. “How long have you been with the DEA?”
“Eight years.” His hand wrapped around the hot mug. “I applied to become an agent right out of college.”
He’d started out young. “Did you always want to go into law enforcement?”
“Yes.” He sipped the black liquid, apparently impervious to the heat causing steam to rise in the cool air.
She waited, using her own heated mug to warm her hands. When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “What drew you to the drug enforcement agency?”
He stared into his cup. For a long moment, he was silent.
She told herself to stop pressing. Learning more about him may appease her curiosity, but it would also endear him to her even more than he already was, and that wasn’t a good plan.
“My mom was an addict,” he finally confessed. “The drugs killed her.”
“I’m so sorry.”
No wonder he’d followed the path he had. His relentless pursuit of those who imported and exported the poison that had destroyed his mother made sense now. And it formed a bond between them. One she couldn’t undo with the knowledge that drove him. They both had lost people they loved. She’d lost Seth to drugs, just as Tyler had lost his mother. But bonds of grief weren’t enough to build a future on, not that she was looking to build anything with Tyler.
He shrugged. “Nothing for you to be sorry about.”
His nonchalance didn’t fool her. She knew the heartache of watching someone battle an addiction. And lose. As much as Seth had wanted to be clean and stay clean, he’d still found a way to let drugs kill him. “How about your father?”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Don’t know him. Mom never said who he was, and when I asked, she’d get mad so I stopped asking. Even my grandparents didn’t know who he was.”
Empathy gripped her heart again. That had to be tough on a boy. At least Colin knew his father had loved him and had died a hero.
Tyler was a hero, too. He was driven by a need to rid the world of the drugs that had robbed him of his mom. Just as drugs had robbed her of Seth.
The flash of headlights sweeping across the kitchen window sent a jolt through her system. She wasn’t expecting anyone at this late an hour.
Tyler set his mug down. With a hand on the weapon at his side, he moved to the kitchen door and looked out the window. “It’s Liv.” He hid his sidearm beneath his black T-shirt.
Surprised Olivia had returned, Heather moved to open the door as Liv stepped up to knock. Liv’s gaze widened slightly when she saw Tyler. He moved to the dining table to close his laptop and gathered the papers to stuff into his leather backpack.
Unmistakable curiosity gleamed in Liv’s eyes. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
“No,” Heather said. “Not at all. Come in.”
Liv had changed into black leggings tucked inside tall black boots. She slipped out of her classy black-and-white houndstooth wool coat. Beneath she had on a knee-length sheath dress. She looked elegant and smart. Heather wished she’d changed out of her grubby jeans and sweater into something more... She mentally snorted. Stop it. It didn’t matter how she looked. She wasn’t trying to gain anyone’s attention, and she certainly couldn’t compete with Liv when it came to fashion.
“What’s brought you out here so late in the evening?” Heather asked.
“I was going stir-crazy in my apartment,” Liv explained. “I needed to get out. And next thing I knew, I was here. I hope it’s okay. I should have called first.”
“It’s fine,” Heather assured her. “We were wrapping up anyway.”
Liv bit her lip, uncertainty lighting up her eyes. “I was thinking about what Tyler said this morning about staying together to help each other through our loss.” Her voice broke on the word. “I was hoping you’d let me stay here. I don’t have to be back to work until Friday afternoon. I just can’t be in the apartment anymore.”
Sympathetic to Liv’s grief, Heather debated the wisdom of inviting her to stay. But short of telling her about the drug ring, Heather couldn’t really say no. “I’ll make up—” Heather swallowed back the sudden lump of sorrow “—Seth’s bed for you.”
Relief swept over Liv’s face. “Thank you. I’ll go get my bag.”
Liv left the room and went out the back door.
Tyler scoffed. “She packed a bag.”
Heather was perplexed, too. But then again, she’d never really understood Liv. Heather had been looking forward to getting to know her better and to calling her sister. An ache throbbed in Heather’s chest. She’d never have a sister now.
Liv returned with a large designer bag in tow. “I was also hoping you’d have some childhood photos of Seth,” she said as she dragged her bag all the way inside. “I’d like to get started on a memorial board.”
Heather gritted her teeth. She’d thought she’d been clear that morning she wasn’t up for tackling a memorial for Seth. “Yes, we have photos. They’re stored in the attic. But, Liv, I’m not ready to do this.”
“I will take care of it,” Liv said as tears welled. She blinked several times, visibly gathering her composure. “I need the closure. Point me in the right direction, and I’ll find what we need.”
Closure. Heather wouldn’t have closure until she knew who’d killed her brother. But she couldn’t tell Liv that. “I’ll show you where they are.” She turned to Tyler. “The key to the carriage apartment is under the doormat. We keep the place stocked, so it should be ready to go.”
He held her gaze. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”
“Of course,” she assured him. He’d programed his number into her cell phone already and had made her promise to keep the phone on her person at all times.
“Where’s Colin?” Liv asked.
“In bed,” Heather replied. “We had a big day.”
Disappointment dampened the other woman’s expression. “I didn’t get to see him this morning either. I could really use one of his hugs.”
Heather had no words for Liv. She wasn’t about to tell the woman to go wake Colin.
“I’ll check in with you later,” Tyler said, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “Nice to see you again, Liv.”
“And you,” Liv replied politely.
Once Tyler left the house, the exhaustion that Heather had kept at bay threatened to send her to her knees. But Liv was staring at her expectantly, so Heather bolstered her stamina. She would get through this. She sent up a silent prayer for God’s strength. “Follow me.”
A few hours later, with the kitchen table covered in Heather’s and Seth’s childhood photos, Heather accepted a second cup of tea from Liv, who’d taken it upon herself to boil more water and scramble some eggs for them both. Once they’d brought the boxes of pictures down from the attic, Heather had intended to walk away and leave Liv to her project, but for some macabre reason, Heather needed to see the photos, even though the memories created pain deep in her core.
“These photos are wonderful,” Liv said as she took her seat next to Heather. “I so wish I could have met your parents. They seem like the best.”
“They were.” Heather picked up a family photo taken at Christmas Heather’s freshman year of high school. Seth was so young and gangly in the photo. Heather had thought herself so trendy in her skinny jeans, cropped cardigan and slipper boots that were comfortable but not functional. Her parents had looked so happy, so alive.
Her heart pulsed with anguish. She missed them so much. They’d been so caring and supportive. Of both her and Seth. She remembered how proud her father was to walk her down the aisle when she married Ken. And she also rem
embered her father’s tears at Ken’s military funeral.
Heather hadn’t cried until the folded flag had been placed in her hands. Then the numbness had broken. Her mother had held her in her arms. That moment was imprinted on Heather’s heart like a scar.
To hide the tears burning behind her eyes from Liv, she sipped from her tea.
“I love this picture of Seth.” Liv held up a photo from his high school graduation.
Heather remembered that night. After the ceremony, Seth had taken off. Her parents had been frantic when he hadn’t returned. And when he did show up three days later, he was high and combative. Her parents had hidden the incident from her. Like so many other times.
It wasn’t until after Ken died that her parents had confessed that Seth was in a bad way. Heather had been grieving her husband but had come home to talk some sense into Seth. He’d tuned her out. She’d gone back to Washington, only returning for holidays and then after the tragic car accident two years ago that had claimed her parents’ lives.
Pressure built within Heather. Suddenly nauseated, she quickly rose. “I need some fresh air.”
She stumbled out to the porch, down the stairs and hurried around the side of the house where she dry heaved into the barren rosebushes.
Wrapping her arms around her middle, more to keep herself from breaking into a million pieces than from the cold, she walked away from the house to the lone lodge pole tree in the backyard. At the base of the tree was a bench where her father would often sit to whittle.
She sank down on the bench. Snow flurries swirled in the air, but she hardly noticed or cared. All that had happened over the past week crashed in on her. Everything hurt. The first tear slid slowly down her cheek. The rest came out in gushing sobs. Dropping her face into her hands, she let loose the grief she’d bottled up inside.
The snap of a branch blasted through her sorrow. With dawning horror, she realized how foolish she’d been to leave the safety of the house. She jumped to her feet. In her peripheral vision she saw movement. Panicked, she ran and prayed she made the safety of the house in time.
