by Marlow Kelly
Tim was halfway across the lot, heading towards Eva, when Victoria accosted him. “Timothy Morgan, what do you think you’re doing? Luring Eva like this.”
Dana had no idea how the women knew about Eva’s meeting with Tim, but it was obvious they didn’t approve.
Zoe Harris stood next to Mrs. Anderson, nodding. She had a little dog tethered to her wrist that yapped as Victoria talked, as if it, too, were telling Tim off.
He stepped back, his movements stiff and controlled. “I’m not—”
“Levi’s going to skin you alive.” Victoria spun around, and Zoe followed. The dog flew off the ground and then landed, unfazed, as they walked across the parking lot in the direction of the police station.
“Wait.” Dana jumped out of her truck and ran to catch up with them, ready to reassure the older women.
Eva strode toward the group, joining them in the middle of the empty lot. “This is none of your business.”
Dana moved between Zoe, Victoria, and Eva. She opened her leather jacket to reveal her badge and gun. All three women knew who she was, but flashing her badge was a display of power and a reminder she could take action if things got ugly. “Don’t worry, I won’t be leaving Mr. Morgan’s side. Nothing untoward will happen.”
Eva gasped. “You’re not coming.”
Tim joined them, standing beside Dana. He gave Eva a slight nod. “I think she should.”
“We’ll take my truck,” Dana announced, taking control of the situation.
Eva slipped her arm through Tim’s and then leaned close so her red lips almost kissed his cheek. “But I thought we were going to have some fun—you said you had a friend.”
Dana resisted the urge to shove the widow away from him, which was a ridiculous reaction. Her job was to tail him and report her observations. Not that the chief had asked her for a detailed report. He just wanted the facts and had even tuned out when she’d mentioned Tim’s close friend, the FBI agent, which reinforced her suspicion that Booley had his own agenda.
Tim stiffened, but didn’t push Eva away. Instead, he escorted her to Dana’s truck, opened the passenger door, and shifted the front seat so Eva could climb in the back.
Dana waved goodbye to Zoe and Victoria who stood in the middle of the parking lot, watching them. Once again, there was something about Victoria that made Dana squirm. Maybe Mrs. Anderson thought Dana was indecent because she was a single mother who had never been married.
Dana shrugged it off. She couldn’t change the mistakes she’d made as a teenager, and wouldn’t, even if she could. One of those mistakes had resulted in Logan, and he was worth all the condemnation the town busybody could throw her way.
Zoe Harris on the other hand, always smiled and greeted Dana as if she were a friend. The mayor’s wife looked as if she’d stepped off a magazine cover. Her short fair hair was perfectly straightened, and her complexion and make-up were flawless.
Dana drove out of the parking lot, spewing gravel in her wake. Tim’s jaw was clamped tight, and every muscle seemed tense, ready to strike. He was right. He didn’t have a future in Hopefalls. He couldn’t even be in the same vehicle with a woman without someone thinking the worst. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Eva undoing the top button of her blouse, revealing even more of her ample bosom. She was a real man-eater. Then Dana remembered her promise. Tim didn’t want to be left alone with her. Victoria and Zoe had it wrong. Eva didn’t need protecting from Tim. He needed to be protected from her.
****
The drive to Granite City was long and silent. She’d inserted her favorite country CD into the player. She would’ve preferred a playlist from her phone, but her truck was too old for Bluetooth. The music had cycled through the songs twice before they reached the city. Tim directed her through the streets until they came to a small building near downtown. A sign on the front lawn read St. Mark’s Church.
“We’re here,” Tim announced. He jumped out and slid the seat forward so Eva could climb out.
They entered the church by a side door, which led to an annex. Long tables stood at one end of the room, and stacks of chairs lined the walls. There were no windows, but skylights in the ceiling made the church hall sunny and bright.
He faced Eva, taking her hands in his. “Sex won’t help you get over Frank. Trust me, I know. When my fiancée died, it took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that playing musical beds wasn’t helping. You live in a small town. If you go down that path, it will be bad for you in the long run.”
Tim had a dead fiancée. That was another unexpected revelation. She hadn’t considered his previous relationships, mainly because she didn’t want to think about them.
“This isn’t what I want,” Eva spat. “I want a good fuck. What the hell is the point of being a bad boy if you don’t fuck?”
He dropped her hands and stepped back, wincing as if he’d been struck. Pain shone in his eyes. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
A balding, middle-aged man wearing a priest’s collar entered the room. He adjusted his coke-bottle glasses and then held out his hand. “Tim, it’s so good to see you.”
“You too, Father Meade.” Tim smiled at the priest, seeming to shake off his pain from a moment ago, or maybe he was just masking it. “I’d like you to meet one of my oldest friends, Eva Bryant. Eva recently lost her husband.”
He didn’t introduce Dana, and she didn’t care. She was too busy witnessing the scene and absorbing the information. Eva had clearly hurt Tim with her words. He’d believed she was a friend, possibly the only friend he had in Hopefalls.
Dana didn’t know Eva well. The diner had been closed after Frank’s death and had only opened a few weeks ago. They’d said hello to each other on a few occasions but had never talked. All the town gossip suggested she was an upstanding woman who was a pillar of the community. Dana wasn’t so sure about that. Her opinion of Eva had nosedived in the last few hours. She understood the widow was hurting and could also see how having a lover could be a short-term comfort. But Eva was totally selfish in her quest and didn’t seem to care that her actions could harm Tim in immeasurable ways. Maybe her grief had blinded her to the very real chance that Booley would kill him.
Dana found the whole thing distasteful and wanted to get away from Eva as fast as possible. She would’ve walked out, but she’d made a promise to Tim, so she had to stay. Besides, this way she could report back to her boss and assure him she had played chaperone.
“Father holds a bereavement meeting here every Sunday afternoon,” Tim explained.
Father Meade stepped forward and took Eva’s hand. “I find Sundays are hard for those who have recently lost a loved one. So I hold a non-denominational meeting mid-afternoon. Nothing formal, we just chat while we drink coffee.”
Eva stared at the priest without saying a word, but she didn’t pull her hand out of his grasp.
“Eva, give it a chance,” Tim ordered, his voice sounding military in tone.
“Come and help me set up. We can talk while we work.” Father Meade guided Eva to the stacks of chairs.
“Let’s go.” Tim grabbed Dana’s elbow as he beat a retreat out of the church.
Dana’s phone pinged as she reached her truck. It was Booley. She sucked in a calming breath and then answered, “Hello, sir.”
“I want my niece returned to Hopefalls—now.”
“She’s in a bereavement meeting at St. Mark’s church in Granite City. I left her in the company of a priest.”
“She’s what?”
“We just dropped her off.”
“What do you mean we?”
“Didn’t Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Anderson tell you? I’m driving. I thought it would be best for all concerned if I took control. I accompanied Mr. Morgan so you could be certain your niece was in good hands, and the counseling might help.”
Booley didn’t reply.
“She’s fine, and I’ll pick her up once the session is done.”
“Make sure you do.�
� He hung up without saying goodbye.
Chapter Seventeen
Finn Callaghan sat in his ergonomic swivel chair. Whenever possible, he spent his Sunday afternoons catching up on paperwork. As a rule, FBI agents had to be ready to go twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, but Sundays were generally quiet.
Unable to concentrate, he slid the form he’d been working on across his desk. Stashing Michael at Tim’s had been a bad idea. Even a rudimentary investigation would turn up Tim’s name as an associate.
Finn stared at his phone. Maybe he should call Ramirez and ask for the details of the case. No, that wasn’t a good idea. The detective wouldn’t appreciate the interference, and Finn had no doubt if Tim was a suspect, sooner or later Ramirez would question him.
But Michael…he was another matter. He was injured and vulnerable.
Finn picked up his phone and called Sinclair. Sinclair Quinn was David’s twin sister. Gifted with languages, she had served in the army before becoming an investigator for the non-profit organization, Child Seekers International. The charity had safe houses all over the globe. Maybe she could help.
“Hello,” she answered on the first ring.
“Sinclair, this is Finn.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I call and something has to be wrong?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated for a moment. She was right. He only ever contacted her when there was trouble. Maybe he needed to take more time out for his personal relationships, especially his friends. He decided to get to the point. “Michael needs your help.”
“I’m in Russia.”
Fuck. “Any idea when you’ll be back in the country?”
“It’s hard to say.” She was being deliberately vague. It could be that she was in the company of a human trafficker, or maybe someone was listening in on her calls.
“Michael was wondering if you still had that holiday cottage?” As codes went, it wasn’t great, but then being cryptic wasn’t his forte. If he’d known beforehand, he might have come up with something better.
She was quiet for a moment. He pictured her twirling her long strawberry-blond hair as she thought about his request. “Not a problem. Give me a few days.” The line went dead. He wasn’t sure if she’d lost her cell signal or if she’d hung up.
Finn threw his phone on the desk. She’d been abrupt, but she’d understood. Good. Hopefully, Michael would be safe at Tim’s until Sinclair could move him to a secure location.
Getting back to work, he switched on his computer and opened the file containing the surveillance photos of Lucy Portman. Deluca had wasted no time in assigning agents to the case. Lucy sat at a table in the Big Sky Steak House. It was a five-star restaurant in Granite City and served a delicious, award-winning menu.
One picture showed Lucy Portman sitting at her table, sipping her water. Beside her sat a classically handsome man with neatly trimmed, graying hair. His coloring, coupled with the deep contours that lined his face, suggested he was in his late-forties. He wore an expensively tailored suit that must have cost a small fortune.
Lucy now owned her husband’s power company, Public Domain Energy. She had also inherited a commodities brokerage, Holstein Brothers, from her father. She was a powerful woman. Was her companion equally powerful?
Another photo captured Lucy’s hand under the table, touching the stranger intimately. Obviously, this was not a platonic relationship.
In the third image, the couple were joined by Lance Ackerman. In his sixties, with a large waistline, Ackerman was famous for ruling his empire with his bullish personality and hardline tactics. His firm, Ackerman Enterprises, was a Fortune 500 company with interests in newspapers, electronics, and social media outlets.
Finn was convinced Lucy Portman was part of the Syndicate. Was Lance Ackerman also a member? This meeting could be anything: friends getting together to share a meal, a legitimate business dinner, or two members of the Syndicate planning Michael’s death. It was impossible to know without listening in, and there was no way they had enough evidence for that kind of monitoring.
He needed to know the identity of the third man. He could just be an escort, a paid lover, but would Lucy bring a gigolo to a business meeting?
Kennedy strode into their shared office. They’d moved to the federal building around the corner from the police station a month ago and had decided sharing an office enhanced their working style rather than hindered it.
“What are you doing here?” She threw her windbreaker over the back of her chair.
“Catching up.” He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew what he meant.
His cell phone played the annoying jazz ringtone he’d been meaning to change. Finn accepted the call from Detective Ramirez, preventing the melody from grinding on his nerves.
“I need to talk to you about your friend, Tim Morgan.”
Finn grimaced. There were times when he hated being right. “My place or yours?” The location of the interview could set the tone of the conversation. If Ramirez chose the police station, then he was probably about to charge Tim, but if he decided to come to the federal Building, there was a good chance the detective was just working through the variables.
“Your office is fine. I can be there in five minutes.”
On the other hand, he might just want to go for a walk and stretch his legs, and meeting Finn here was a good way to do that.
Ramirez strolled in, minutes later, looking as confident as ever. The corruption of the Granite City–Elkhead County Police Department at the hands of Marshall Portman didn’t seem to bother him at all, but Finn knew morale within the department was at an all-time low.
“What can I do for you?” Finn pointed to the cheap, hard plastic guest chair that was situated on the other side of his desk.
“I need to ask you about Timothy Morgan’s movements on the day of Ben North’s homicide, which was last Thursday.”
“I can only account for his whereabouts between twelve and one. We had lunch together.”
“Where was this?”
“At the Dumb Luck Café on the Square.” Finn always went to the Dumb Luck for lunch. Not only did they serve good food, but they also had the best coffee in Granite City.
“Did you have to wait for him?”
Finn shook his head. “No, he was there when I arrived.”
“And he left with you.”
“No, he had his laptop out. He said he had some work to do. I assumed he was going to use the free Wi-Fi. His ranch is too remote to get a signal.”
“Do you know what time he left?”
“No, but Peggy might.” Peggy was the owner of the Dumb Luck who’d purchased the coffee shop with the insurance money when her husband was killed in a freak fishing accident.
“If she doesn’t know,” Finn continued, “ask if she still has last Thursday on file.” Peggy’s security cameras covered the interior of the coffee shop and the sidewalk outside.
“Sounds good. I’ll probably pull the surveillance anyway so there’s no question of bias.”
“Is there anything you can share?”
“I don’t think there’s any harm in telling you…the medical examiner changed the time of death. The color of lividity suggested the body had been exposed to freezing. On further investigation, the ME discovered the temperature on Molly’s Mountain dropped to below freezing Thursday night—”
“Which delayed decomp?”
“Correct. The new time of death is between eleven a.m. and two p.m. on Thursday.”
“So Tim’s in the clear.” Finn breathed a sigh of relief.
“Not necessarily. He could have raced back and killed North within our timeframe.” The detective shifted his chair closer to the desk.
Finn’s gut cramped. “Is there anything else in the ME’s report?”
“The gunshots didn’t kill Ben North. That much was obvious at the scene. He died of a heart attack, which was induced by poisoning. The ME thinks it was an accident. Ben d
idn’t ingest the poison, and there are no needle marks on the body, but his face was covered in a white powdery substance.” Ramirez placed his elbows on Finn’s desk. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. “It will take a few days for the lab to give us a name, but presumptive tests indicate it belongs to the nightshade family.”
“Do you think it was self-induced?” Kennedy asked. “Perhaps he mistook the powder for cocaine.”
“Anything’s possible. We’ll know more once we know what kind of poison was used.” He crossed his arms on the desk, used them like a pillow, resting his head on them. Closing his eyes, he said, “Coffee isn’t keeping me awake anymore.”
“You need sleep. Go home,” Finn ordered.
“I will.” Ramirez opened his eyes and stared at Finn’s computer screen. Finn turned the monitor away but not before the detective glimpsed the photo of Lucy, Ackerman, and the mysterious third man. “I know that guy.”
“Yeah, he’s Lance Ackerman.”
Ramirez sat up straight. “No, the other one.”
Finn glanced at Kennedy who was halfway out of her seat, ready to cross the room. “Who is he?” she demanded.
“He’s the mayor of Hopefalls. His name is…” He put a hand to his mouth. “I shook his hand. His name is…” He snapped his fingers. “Harris. That’s it.”
Finn tilted his head to the side. “Does the mayor have any connection to Ben North’s homicide?”
“Umm. He was at North’s place when the police arrived. According to Officer Hayden, who secured the scene, Chief Booley, Mayor Harris, and his wife, Zoe Harris, were stomping all over the evidence when she arrived.”
“Seriously?” Kennedy joined Finn.
“He’s also behind the push to put a mine on Ben’s land,” Ramirez added.
“What can you tell us about this mine?” Kennedy asked.
“I don’t have all the details, but it seems that Third Estate Mining has filed condemnation proceedings for Ben’s land. They were forcing Ben off his property, using the Eminent Domain Law.”
