Quentin.
“Are you up for this?” Clayton asked.
She nodded, and he handed her the phone. Lenora pressed the answer button, put the call on speaker and waited for Quentin to say something.
“Lynnie?” the man asked.
It was Quentin all right, and it was her real name. Lynnie Martin. But she’d stopped using it not long after she began working for the task force. Somehow, though, Quentin had learned about her Lenora Whitaker alias, because he’d found her house. The photo in his file had proven that.
“How are you? Where are you?” Quentin asked.
“I’ve been better.” And she didn’t intend to answer the second part of his question. “Someone’s trying to kill me, and I wondered if it was you.”
“God, no.” There was no hesitation, and he sounded surprised. Sounded. “What happened?”
“Someone shot at me,” she settled for saying. After all, this was a fishing expedition, and she didn’t want to give him too many details. Just enough to possibly hang himself.
Quentin cursed. “Are you all right?”
“No. And I want to know why you were at my house in Eagle Pass.”
“I wasn’t...” But then he stopped. “Okay, I was. I was checking on you, or rather trying to do that. I’d read about Jill’s shooting, and I was worried. How did you know I was there?”
“A friend told me,” she lied. “How’d you find me?”
“Through an old contact.”
And with that vague answer, the conversation ground to a halt. She looked at Clayton to see if he was buying Quentin’s innocent act, but he obviously wasn’t. He was glaring at the phone as if he wanted to jump through it and beat Quentin senseless. If he was guilty, Lenora wanted to do the same thing.
“My old contact also told me you were pregnant,” Quentin finally continued. “Who’s the father?”
She sucked in her breath. Mercy. Lenora hadn’t wanted Quentin to know about the baby. Especially since he could be insanely jealous. Or at least he had been when they were together. At the time she’d thought that only showed how much he loved her, but in hindsight, it only showed that he could be possessive and abusive.
Hardly love.
“The father is someone I’d rather not discuss,” Lenora answered.
“It’s that marshal from Maverick Springs, isn’t it?”
A chill went over her, because it wasn’t just what Quentin said, but how he said it. He sounded past being just jealous, and she knew from experience that jealous men often did dangerous things. And Quentin was a criminal. Heaven only knew just how far he would go.
“I’ve been trying to find out how you’ve been,” Quentin continued. “And other things. Like your location, for instance. I want to see you.”
“Why?” Clayton mouthed, and Lenora repeated it aloud to Quentin.
“Why?” Quentin mimicked. “Because I’m in love with you, that’s why. Because we were torn apart because someone ratted on me and forced me to work with the justice department.”
Even though he hadn’t said she was the one to rat him out, he probably knew it. He seemed to know everything else about her. But thankfully, not her whereabouts.
“It’s too dangerous for me to see you,” she explained. “Someone wants me dead, and until I find out who that is, I’m staying in hiding.”
“Agent James Britt,” Quentin tossed out there. “I’m betting you can trace the danger right back to him. He’s a dirty agent, Lynnie.”
“You have proof of that?” She wasn’t disagreeing with him, and she definitely didn’t like James’s association with the man who’d shot Clayton.
“Not yet, but that’s why we have to meet,” Quentin insisted. “We have to figure out a way to bring him down. When and where can you meet me?”
Clayton shook his head again, probably to make sure she didn’t agree to anything Quentin wanted. “I’ll have to get back to you on that,” she said.
Quentin cursed again. “I can tell a put-off when I hear it, and you’re making a big mistake.”
That sounded like a threat, and Clayton’s glare heated up.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Quentin went on. “You’ve got a dirty agent on your trail, and you’re trusting a man you shouldn’t trust.”
Lenora definitely didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
“Marshal Clayton Caldwell,” Quentin spat out like profanity.
She looked at Clayton to see if he knew what this was all about, but he only shook his head. “What about him?” Lenora asked.
“He’s trouble. The worst kind of trouble that can get you killed the hard way.” Quentin punctuated that with more profanity. “Lynnie, you weren’t the target of the shooting at the diner in Maverick Springs. Clayton Caldwell was.”
And with that, Quentin hung up.
Chapter Nine
Lynnie, you weren’t the target of the shooting at the diner in Maverick Springs. Clayton Caldwell was.
Quentin’s words repeated through Clayton’s head, and even though he wanted to dismiss it as the ranting of a jealous man, it wouldn’t be wise to do that.
Because it could be true.
With the triggerman dead and no proof of who’d hired him, Clayton could have indeed been the target. And worse, it might not even be connected to Lenora or Jill’s murder. He’d been a marshal long enough to make plenty of enemies who would want to see him dead.
But how could Quentin be so sure that triggerman had been gunning for him and not Lenora? Or for both of them?
Clayton silently cursed. He was tired of not having answers. And he was especially tired of seeing that worried look on Lenora’s face.
She had that look now while she was watching him set up the computer in the office for the interview with Riggs. Even though she wouldn’t be in the same room with Riggs, just seeing him would no doubt trigger nightmarish memories of Jill’s murder.
Bad for her.
Maybe good for Clayton, though.
Because it might jog his memory, too. A lot of that night was still a blur. Bits and pieces of things. He remembered seeing the gun in Riggs’s hand, the shot fired and Jill collapsing on the ground. Broken pieces, but pieces that he could still mesh together. But then the memories stopped.
Riggs’s lawyer would use those memory gaps to try to discredit his testimony, and while it wouldn’t be needed to convict Riggs of murder, his legal team might continue to chip away at the evidence and witnesses. All it took was a little reasonable doubt, and the jury might not convict Riggs of murder.
Yeah, getting his memory back was critical.
Not just for the trial, either.
He looked at Lenora’s stomach. In just a few months she’d give birth, and while he would love the child no matter what, he wanted to remember the sex that had resulted in the pregnancy. It was one gap he didn’t want to live with for the rest of his life.
“What is it?” he heard Lenora ask.
And Clayton realized he was staring at her. Not just her stomach, either. Her body. He got a split-second image of her naked and in bed with him.
But maybe that was wishful thinking. After all, he was attracted to her, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to picture her as his lover.
“Nothing,” he said.
Her left eyebrow lifted a fraction, but she didn’t have time to press him for a real answer, because at that moment, there was a beeping sound to indicate that Riggs was in place at the prison for the interview.
Clayton had already taken some precautions by making sure there’d be nothing on the screen that Riggs could use to identify their location. The dark curtains were drawn, and he’d positioned the desk so that the only background visible was a now-bare wall. Of course, that didn’t mean Riggs wouldn’t guess where they were, but Clayton didn’t want to give the killer any kind of confirmation of that.
“Ready?” he asked Lenora.
She nodded, and more concern went through he
r eyes, but she faced the screen head-on. So did Clayton, and he pressed the button.
Riggs’s face instantly came into view.
“Marshal Caldwell,” Riggs greeted, flashing a smile. He was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and his slumped-forward posture indicated that he was cuffed at the ankles and wrists. “And Lenora’s here, too. To what do I owe the pleasure of this interrogation?”
“It’s not an interrogation,” Clayton corrected. Not officially, anyway, since Clayton wasn’t the investigating officer in charge of Riggs’s case. “We just want to ask you a few questions.”
Riggs wasn’t alone. There were two men in suits, one on each side of him. His lawyers, no doubt. Clayton had figured they’d be there, but he hoped their presence wouldn’t discourage Riggs from talking. Of course, even if Riggs did talk, he might not tell them anything.
“Questions?” Riggs repeated. He made a show of looking surprised by that. “Guess you’d want to figure out what’s going on. Heard you and Lenora had a bit of trouble. You two are regular bullet magnets, aren’t you?”
Clayton tried not to have any outward reaction to that, but he hated this man making light of an attack that could have killed Lenora, him and their baby.
“Did you have anything to do with these latest bullets?” Clayton asked.
“Certainly not.” Riggs’s tone was mocking, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re mistaken again. Just like you were about the other incident involving that pretty little thing, Jill Lang. I didn’t have anything to do with that, either.”
“Other than killing her,” Lenora mumbled.
Riggs made a tsk-tsk sound. “That’s all speculation at this point. That’s why we have trials in this country.”
Clayton had to admire the man’s audacity, but it was that same audacity and cockiness that would make it harder to get info from him. All he needed was for Riggs to slip up and say something they could use. Clayton didn’t have anything specific he could use to unhinge the man, but he was ready to bluff and make Riggs think that he did.
“You have a powerful motive for wanting Lenora and me out of the way,” Clayton tossed out there.
Riggs shrugged. “I’m sure you have a lot of confidence in your skills on the witness stand, Marshal, but I have that same confidence in my lawyers. So there goes any motive you might think I have to silence you.”
It was pure bravado. There was too much evidence against him, but Clayton didn’t want to get into the specifics of the trial.
“If you didn’t hire someone to fire those bullets at us,” Clayton said, “then who did?”
“Oh, so now you want me to do your job for you?” Riggs taunted.
“No. But if you didn’t have anything to do with it, you might want to use this opportunity to clear your name. Well, clear your name about this, anyway.”
Clayton braced himself for another smart-mouth reply, and to help motivate Riggs, he added, “We’ve been studying your prison visit logs and communications we have authorization to view from your lawyers. Not just their communications with you, but with others. It seems as if everything we uncover about this attack leads directly back to you.”
One of the lawyers, a bald guy with a shiny head and face, immediately leaned over and whispered something to Riggs. The other lawyer, who was much younger, nodded. Which meant they’d likely told their client not to comment.
But Riggs spoke anyway. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’ve done something illegal, like wiretaps or peeking at privileged lawyer-client communications.”
Now Clayton shrugged. “The justice department’s involved.” And that was a reminder that the JD could indeed get wiretap approvals. They hadn’t in this case, not that Clayton knew of, anyway. But it was a threatening reminder that secrets often didn’t stay secrets for long.
“Agent James Britt is investigating,” Clayton added.
More whispers from the lawyer, but Riggs pushed him away with his forearm and nailed his gaze to Lenora and Clayton. “You’re both fools to trust Agent Britt.” He practically spat out the man’s name. “Yeah, he’s investigating the shooting, but it’s only to save his own hide.”
Clayton didn’t like the way James’s name kept coming up in conversations that linked him to what was going on with them.
“What does that mean—he’s trying to save his own hide?” Lenora pressed.
Again, Riggs pushed aside his lawyer’s attempt to say something to him. “I mean if you want to check some communications, take a long look at Agent Britt’s.” Riggs paused, smiled again. “He’s connected to the shooter at the diner.”
That felt like a punch to the gut. Clayton already knew about that connection, that Dayton was a criminal informant, but he’d only recently found out.
How long had Riggs known?
And how had he found out? Judging from Riggs’s smirk, he wouldn’t volunteer that, but Clayton tried anyway.
“What do you know about James and the dead hit man?” Clayton pressed.
“Only what I’ve heard through the grapevine. A lot of talk goes on here in prison. Talk about you, for instance.” Riggs was looking at Lenora now. “Talk that you’re a lot more than you claim to be.” He leaned closer to the screen. “Ever worry that your involvement with Agent Britt could have caused your friend Jill to die?”
Lenora didn’t react. Well, no facial reaction anyway, but Clayton saw the slight tremble in her hands. Yeah, this was the bad-memory part.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Lenora answered.
“Sure you do, sweet cakes. But if you want to keep your secret life a secret, that’s fine with me. I suspect the marshal already knows it all anyway.” Riggs paused, got that smirky look again. “But what Marshal Caldwell might not know is how all of this points right back to him.”
“Great,” Clayton mumbled. He met Riggs eye to eye. “More word games. Why don’t you just come out and say what you’re skirting around?”
“All right.” And Riggs’s smile returned. “If you want to know who’s behind these plots to kill you, you should look in your own backyard.”
Clayton cursed before he could stop himself. Lenora reached out, took his hand. She shook her head. Obviously she thought he was about to lose it, but Clayton was in control.
Mostly, anyway.
Maybe it was yesterday’s visit from the Ranger or the whole mess with Webb’s murder, but he was just sick and tired of hearing allegations like that.
“You’d better not be implicating my foster father or brothers,” Clayton said through clenched teeth.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Riggs leaned closer to the screen again. “I meant you should look in your own DNA backyard.”
Clayton didn’t have to choke back any profanity that time, because his throat snapped shut. He reminded himself that Riggs was a killer and a liar, and he would say anything to get Clayton to snap, for the pure pleasure of it.
“Oh,” Riggs said. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “I see you didn’t know. Finally, I have news that even the marshals haven’t been able to uncover.”
“What news?” Lenora snapped, and she gripped Clayton’s hand tighter.
Riggs made them wait while he gloated for what seemed an eternity. “That Melvin Larson, Clayton’s father, is, well, a person of interest in your investigation. At least, he should be.”
Lenora’s gaze flew to Clayton’s. Clearly she wanted an explanation, but he couldn’t give her one. He had no idea why Riggs had just mentioned his worthless father.
“What does Melvin have to do with this?” Clayton demanded.
But Riggs was already standing. “This interview is over.” And with his lawyers on each side of him, Riggs disappeared from view.
Hell.
It was an answer all right, but it wasn’t an answer Clayton wanted.
“Why did Riggs say that about your father?” Lenora asked.
Clayton nodded but didn’t add more, because another face appeared on the
screen. It was the prison worker who’d set up the interview with Riggs.
“Get what you needed?” the worker asked.
Not even close, but Clayton mumbled a “thanks” and cut the feed.
Lenora quickly got to her feet. “Riggs is probably lying about your father’s involvement.”
“Birth father,” Clayton automatically corrected. Melvin Larson wasn’t much more than a sperm donor in Clayton’s eyes. “And he doesn’t even deserve to be called that. My mother and he never married, so I use her maiden name.”
She paused, studied him. Paused some more. “Is Riggs lying?”
Clayton had to shake his head. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
He reached for his phone so he could get some calls started, but Lenora stopped him. “Maybe Riggs said that to get us off track. I mean, it won’t be easy for you to confront your birth father. Riggs could be doing this to distract us so we won’t focus on the real culprit—him.”
Clayton couldn’t discount that, but he had to check out the lead Riggs had just given him, and that meant he had to face down the bastard who’d abandoned him at Rocky Creek when he was just a kid. Part of him welcomed it, because he was no longer a scared kid, but the other part of him worried that Lenora was right.
That this was some kind of setup or distraction orchestrated by Riggs.
Before Clayton could start the arrangements for a chat with Melvin, the house phone buzzed, and he saw on the screen that the call was from the senior ranch hand, Cutter Flores. Since Cutter rarely called the house, Clayton snatched up the phone.
“A problem?” Clayton immediately asked, and he put the call on speaker so Lenora could hear.
“I’m thinking yeah, it’s a problem all right,” Cutter replied, his voice and tone crusty.
Clayton groaned. “What happened?”
“I’m holding a Colt forty-five on a fella who just rode up on a Harley. We’re out here at the end of the road on the cattle guard, and he says he’s gotta see you and Miss Lenora right away. I messed up and let it slip that you were both here.”
Great. Just what they didn’t need. He didn’t want anyone knowing Lenora was there. Of course, that cat was already out of the bag with James, and heck, even Riggs might have suspected her location.
One Night Standoff Page 9
