“You shouldn’t have done that,” she protested. Those weren’t the actions of a man who intended to move into another motel room today. They were the actions of a man who had found his roost and had no intention of leaving it.
“Darlin’, I had to do it—it’s called self-preservation.” He grinned and grabbed his fork. “Now, eat. We’ve got a long day ahead of us, and breakfast is the most important meal to kick-start your body and brain.”
Oh, she was kick-started, all right. As she ate, she tried to stay focused off the kiss they’d shared the night before, and tried to figure out a nice way to kick him out of her house.
By the time they were finished eating and had cleaned up the kitchen, she still hadn’t figured it out. Hopefully before the day ended she could make him believe that staying in her place wasn’t a good plan.
Before they left the house she called her director, who already had the details of what had happened the night before at the motel and was conducting an internal investigation among the handful of people who knew where Jackson would be staying while in town.
With that issue taken care of, Marjorie and Jackson were on their way to Mystic Lake to begin a new round of questioning. Despite the fact that they’d agreed the night before to be on the road around nine, they got an early start. Neither of them had slept in later than usual.
Their first stop would be Natalie Redwing’s place. Although they would arrive there fairly early, around eight-thirty, they hoped to catch the woman off guard.
“You can do the interview with Natalie Redwing,” Marjorie said, and gave the handsome man next to her a quick glance. “Maybe some of that smooth charm of yours will work its magic and we’ll actually get some answers.”
“Sounds like a tough assignment to me,” he replied lightly.
She laughed. “Yeah, like breathing.” She turned onto the highway that would take them to the little town. “We also need to talk to Deputy Black and see if he’s heard any gossip about what went down last night and find out if Jeff Maynard has an alibi for the time of the shooting.”
“I’ve got the names of everyone we need to talk to written down,” Jackson assured her. “We’ll get them all covered today unless something else comes up. What we need to focus on is watching our backs. Last night was a heads-up that somebody is willing to kill to keep us from gaining answers.”
A residual chill swept through Marjorie as she thought of those moments the night before when the world exploded around her and terror had shot through her very soul.
“What happened last night doesn’t exactly speak well for Amberly and Cole’s well-being,” she said, the words painful as they fell from her mouth.
“No, it doesn’t,” he replied after a moment of hesitation. She was grateful he didn’t pretend that the couple was probably just fine and being held captive somewhere for some unknown reason.
If they were correct, in that Amberly and Cole had disappeared on Friday night, then tomorrow marked a full week that they’d been missing. A part of her was already mourning the two and that only made her more determined to find out the who and the why of what had happened to them.
It would have been difficult to drive by Natalie Redwing’s mobile home in the trailer park located on the west end of the small town of Mystic Lake without taking notice of it. Painted a brilliant orange, with colorful dream catchers and tinkling chimes hanging down from nails at the top of the built-on wooden porch, it was like a brain freeze to the eyes.
No sooner had they pulled into the driveway than a heavyset Native American stepped out onto the front porch, a shotgun lowered to point to the ground, and a wary frown on her plump face. “Friend or foe?” she asked as Jackson opened his car door but didn’t step out.
“Depends on what you do with that shotgun,” he replied. “We’re FBI and we’re here to ask you some questions.”
She nodded and propped the gun against the doorframe and motioned them out of the car. “A woman alone can’t be too careful these days,” she said.
Clad in a yellow-and-turquoise muumuu with bright orange flip-flops, she was as colorful as her home. When they reached her porch, she gestured them into two old wicker chairs while she remained standing. “I suppose you’re here about the sheriff and his wife. I figured eventually somebody would be by to talk to me.”
“And here we are,” Jackson said, and flashed her one of his devastating smiles. Instantly the frown across Natalie’s face disappeared.
“Why, aren’t you a handsome hunk,” she said, her voice taking on a softer, almost simpering quality.
“Thanks, you’re a fine-looking lady yourself,” he replied. “Unfortunately this is a business visit and not a pleasure one. We need to know about your relationship with Sheriff Caldwell and his wife.”
“Cole and I were good friends,” she said, her gaze never leaving Jackson’s face. Marjorie might just as well have been a pet rock on the porch. “I knew Amberly because we occasionally worked together at the Native American Heritage Center in Kansas City, but we weren’t real close.” She took a step closer to Jackson and leaned toward him. “I thought she was a little bit snooty, if you know what I mean.”
Jackson leaned toward her, as if captivated by anything that might fall out of her mouth. “So, were you upset when the two of them got married? I mean, a good-looking woman like you, maybe you had some plans for yourself with Cole.”
“I won’t lie, I had visions of me and Cole together at one time.” The frown creased her forehead again. “But once I saw the two of them together it was so obvious that they belonged with each other.”
As they spoke the chimes tinkled and clanged riotously in a warm breeze, the cacophony of discordant sound making Marjorie’s head ache.
“I know this sounds crazy for a lovely woman like you, but we heard a rumor that you were kind of stalking Cole,” Jackson said. He shook a quick glance at Marjorie, who had been watching the two of them intently.
“I was never stalking Cole,” Natalie scoffed. “But I suppose somebody might have gotten the wrong impression, because it might have looked like I was stalking them both.”
Jackson leaned back in his chair. “And why would you be doing that, sweetheart?”
Natalie walked over to the porch railing and leaned against it, her gaze distant for a moment, and then she focused back on Jackson. “Being Native American, I’m tuned into emotions deeper than other people. It’s a gift of my heritage. There was something primal between Amberly and Cole, a force, an energy that proclaimed them soul mates. I liked seeing them together.”
“When was the last time you saw them?” Marjorie asked, unable to stay quiet another minute.
“I saw Cole on Thursday, but it had been the weekend before they disappeared that I saw Amberly and him together. They were having dinner together in the local diner and I ate at the counter that night.”
“Do you know anyone who might want to hurt them?” Jackson asked.
“Jeff Maynard and his group of idiots weren’t too fond of Cole, but I can’t imagine any of them doing something like this. You are going to find them, aren’t you? What they had between them was something magical, and it would be a shame if they have somehow been destroyed.”
Her words were filled with emotion, and tears slipped down her face. “Watching them together made me feel like I bathed in their love. It made me believe that there was somebody out there who I could connect with on that emotional, sexual, loving level.”
She gave a harsh laugh. “I know, I’m just a crazy, lonely fat woman living my life vicariously through others. If you came here to find out if I had anything to do with Amberly and Cole’s disappearance, then you’ve come to the wrong place.”
Jackson exchanged glances with Marjorie. Marjorie wasn’t sure what to believe. Natalie came across as a straight-shooter, but really good liars
had the same ability. Still, she knew they wouldn’t get any more pertinent information here, and so she stood, indicating to Jackson that as far as she was concerned they were finished here.
Jackson got up and stood next to her. “We may be back with more questions for you,” he said.
Natalie’s eyes twinkled. “You can come back here whenever you want, you charming devil, but I have a feeling it would still just be business and not pleasure.” Her gaze shot from Jackson to Marjorie and then back again. “I sense more than a little primal energy between the two of you.” She smiled slyly. “If I were you two, I’d get after it.”
“I’m working on it,” Jackson said with a laugh as Marjorie fought both the flaming heat in her cheeks and the desire to punch him in the arm...hard.
Chapter Six
“She sensed something primal between us,” Jackson said when they were back in the car and headed to find Jeff Maynard’s friend Jimmy Tanner.
“The sound of all those wind chimes has obviously scrambled her brains,” Marjorie replied.
Jackson grinned, amused by the straight set of her shoulders, the grim set of her lush lips. “Would it be so bad if there was some primal desire between us?”
“Whether there is or isn’t doesn’t matter,” she replied. “You’re just a man who is in town until this case is solved and then you’ll go back to Baton Rouge and the bimbos you’re accustomed to dating.”
“Now, what on earth would make you think I’d date bimbos?” he asked.
“All I want to know from you is what you thought of Natalie Redwing. Do you think she’s a harmless stalker or somebody more dangerous?”
Although with the memory of kissing Maggie far too fresh in his mind he’d rather talk about primal need, he gave her a pass. “I’m not sure. I think maybe she’s no more than a bit of a voyeur, living her life by stalking people who have what she wants. I’d be more inclined to move her up the suspect list if Amberly was dead and Cole was still alive and here.”
“Agreed.”
“Still, we’ll do a full background check on her and see if anything comes to light.”
“Maybe Jimmy Tanner will have some answers for us. We already know that we need to check Jeff Maynard’s alibi for the night the Caldwells went missing, and we know he might have a motive, in that the last investigation Amberly and Cole worked on together apparently ended Jimmy’s marriage.”
“And from what Deputy Black told us, Jimmy is now working as a freelance sort of handyman carpenter. We’ll see if we can catch him at home at the motel, otherwise we’ll have to see if we can find out where he’s working for the day.”
He could tell she was grateful that the talk had turned to the case, and he knew that was why he was here, that it should be of utmost importance to him. Amberly and Cole were two people who desperately needed help. Jackson wasn’t sure at this point if they’d be found alive or dead, but in either case there were also people who needed closure.
Still, he couldn’t deny that in the brief time he’d known Maggie, she’d touched him in places no woman ever had before. She made him want to be a better man than he’d ever been in his life, and she’d made him more ashamed than he’d ever been of where he’d come from.
Jimmy Tanner’s current residence was at the Mystic Lake Motel. Jackson sighed with relief as he saw the white panel truck parked out front. A ladder was attached to the roof, and it was obviously a work vehicle. It looked as if Jimmy was home.
The motel didn’t appear to be a five-star establishment; rather it looked as if it would have to struggle to make two-star status.
Seeing the broken windows of one unit, an old rusty sports car parked nearby, Jackson got out of the car with his hand on the butt of his gun.
The place smelled like danger...like drug deals and hookers and an alcoholic’s oasis. It held the scent of crime and lawlessness, and he was glad to see that his partner had the same vibe, for her hand was on the butt of her gun, as well.
They exchanged sober glances as they approached the end unit that belonged to Jimmy. The curtains were drawn over the filthy windows, making it impossible for them to get a glimpse of what they might face when the door opened.
Jackson knocked on the door, tensed as he waited for a response. Marjorie stood on the opposite side of the entrance, her features also taut and sober.
There was no reply. He knocked again, harder this time, certain that Jimmy the handyman was hiding out inside. His suspicion was confirmed when the curtain at the window moved slightly and then fell back into place.
“He’s in there,” Jackson said softly to Maggie. He banged on the door once again. “Jimmy Tanner, come outside.” Before he could identify them as FBI agents, a crash of glass sounded from around the back of the building.
“He’s running,” Maggie said, and together she and Jackson took off around the side of the building.
The back of the motel was nothing but a field of weeds, and in the distance were two things: the glittering water of the lake for which the town had been named, and a brown-haired man clad in jeans and a white T-shirt running away as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Halt!” Jackson yelled as he raced to catch him. The last thing he wanted was a damned footrace in this heat and humidity.
He was vaguely surprised that Maggie was matching him step for step. Not only sexy, but fast, he thought with admiration.
“Hey, Jimmy,” she yelled. “If you don’t stop running, then I’m going to shoot you.” Maggie stopped in place and pulled her gun from her holster and assumed a shooter stance.
Jimmy glanced backward, his eyes wild with fear, and his feet skidded to a halt. He slowly turned to face them, with his hands above his head. “If she’s paid you to shoot me, then just get it over with,” he exclaimed. “She’s taken everything else from me, she might as well get my life, too.”
As Maggie and Jackson drew nearer, Jackson noticed that one of Jimmy’s eyes held the faint yellow bruising of a healing black eye, and his lower lip was scabbed over as if he’d taken a beating in the past week or so.
“Who is ‘she’?”
“My ex-wife. Aren’t you just two more goons she hired to beat the hell out of me?”
“Do I look like a goon who’s going to beat the hell out of you?” Maggie asked.
“You never know,” Jimmy replied. “My ex is crazy enough to hire some woman just to get me off guard.”
“Actually, we’re FBI agents, you dumb ass, and we’d like to ask you some questions,” Jackson replied. The late July sun was hot, and Jackson was in no mood to conduct an interview in the middle of a field. “We can do this back at your place or we can take you into the sheriff’s office. Your choice.”
“My place,” he replied. “I try not to show my face around the sheriff’s station. Just looking at the building makes me want to punch Cole Caldwell upside the head.”
They began walking back toward the motel. “Is this about the sheriff’s disappearance?” he asked.
“Partly,” Jackson replied.
Jimmy eyed him with narrow eyes. “I might have a reason to want to punch Cole in the chin, but really all he did was confirm to my wife what she’d known for years, that I’d been cheating on her all along. For some reason Tara finally went crazy on me. She divorced me, took most everything I owned and has been hiring thugs to beat me up on a regular basis.”
By that time they’d reached the front of his motel room. He opened the door and gestured them inside. The space was surprisingly clean, with the bed neatly made and a suitcase half-packed on the floor.
“Packing or unpacking?” Jackson asked as he thumbed a finger at the suitcase.
“Somewhere in between.” Jimmy sank down on the edge of the bed while Jackson and Marjorie remained standing just inside the door. “As soon as I get enough mon
ey together I’m heading out of this town. I want to get as far away from Tara as I possibly can, but I’m sure you aren’t here because of my marital issues.”
“We’re here to check on an alibi for the time of the disappearance of Sheriff Caldwell and his wife. Jeff Maynard told us that last Friday night, you, Raymond Chandler and he were all here playing poker.”
Jimmy rubbed a hand across his sweaty forehead. “You know, a month ago I would have saved his sorry butt by lying for him. But I’m not lying for anyone anymore, and I just want to keep my nose clean and get out of town as soon as possible. Ray and I met here for our usual poker night, but Jeff never showed up. The two of us were here until about one in the morning, playing two-handed card games and drinking beer.”
Jimmy’s features hardened. “I’m not in the mood to tell you something that isn’t true. The three of us have been jokes in this town, losers and cheaters and lowlifes, but I’m turning things around and I don’t want to start by lying to Feds.”
Jackson exchanged a look with Marjorie. “Then it appears we need to speak to Jeff again.”
“I won’t lie, I didn’t like Cole, but Jeff hated him. I hope he isn’t crazy enough to do something stupid, but you never know, where Jeff is concerned, especially if he’s been drinking,” Jimmy said. “He gets stupid when he gets drunk.”
Marjorie pulled one of her cards from her purse and handed it to Jimmy. “Don’t leave town without letting us know your plans.”
He nodded, and moments later Jackson and Marjorie were back in the car. “I’ve got to tell you, Maggie girl, you definitely look hot in a shooter stance.”
She shot him the look of aggravation he expected, and he laughed.
“I don’t know what you find so funny. We’re spinning our wheels here and going nowhere fast in this investigation.”
“Not true,” he protested. “We just found out that Jeff Maynard lied about his alibi. I’d say that’s a break for us.”
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