Return to Mystic Lake

by Carla Cassidy

  Jackson took the keys. “Thanks.”

  Adam looked at Marjorie once again. “Let me know how I can help.”

  “Actually there is something you can do. Check and see if John Merriweather knows anyone who might own a motorcycle. If you find out anything give me a call.” Aware that Jackson apparently intended to drive, Marjorie slid into the passenger seat and waved at Adam, who stepped back from the car.

  “He’s crazy about you,” Jackson said once they were in the car and headed to Mystic Lake.

  Marjorie looked at him in surprise. “Don’t be silly. We’ve worked together on several cases. He trusts me.” Jackson had almost sounded jealous, but surely she’d misinterpreted his tone.

  “Adam is a talented agent who overcame a horrible childhood. He doesn’t trust easily and he’s, for the most part, a lone wolf. But enough about Adam.”

  “So, you’ve come around to my thinking that John Merriweather remains a solid suspect,” he said as he pulled onto the road that would take them to Maggie’s house.

  “I’m keeping an open mind,” she replied. “It occurred to me this morning that all John would have to do was sell a couple of his paintings under the table for cash and he’d have enough money to hire himself a hit man. There would be no way to follow the money and he could keep himself distant from the violence.”

  “Smart thinking, but if that’s the case he hired a local yahoo instead of a professional hit man. If this was a professional, we’d probably both already be dead.”

  She couldn’t help the small shiver that swept through her at his words. He glanced at her and caught her midshiver. “Are you sure you’re up to this? I’d love to drop you off at some out-of-the-way motel and let me be the worm on the hook.”

  “We’re partners, remember? There’s no way I’m going to let you go all macho on me. Is this about what happened between us last night?”

  He shot a quick glance at her. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “I have to confess that a little protective streak I didn’t know I had has reared its head where you’re concerned.”

  “I’m an agent first, Jackson, and then a woman.”

  He grinned. “Darlin’, you were all woman last night.”

  Her cheeks warmed in a familiar blush. “But that was then and this is now. Whether you like it or not, I’m dangling on that hook right next to you.”

  “I figured that would be your answer.” He pulled into Maggie’s driveway, where a panel truck was already parked. “Sit tight,” he said as he opened his driver door. “This should just take a minute.”

  She watched as he met with the tall bald man who got out of the truck. Interesting that there was no writing or graphics on the side of the truck to indicate that it was part of a home security business. Jackson handed the man a key she assumed was the copy of the one she’d given Jackson to her house.

  “Everything should be done by the time we get home from Mystic Lake,” he said when he was back behind the wheel. “I told him to go subtle but effective. I don’t want the bad guys to know we have anything in place.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  They fell silent as he headed toward Mystic Lake. For no particular reason she felt as if they were approaching the end, that the list of motorcycle owners they got from Roger might hold their answer.

  Their list of suspects was still rather pathetic, with Jeff Maynard, Jimmy Tanner, Edward Bentz and John Merriweather, but if one of those names appeared on Roger’s list, then they could potentially have enough evidence to get all kinds of warrants to execute to gather even more personal information.

  Even the FBI had red tape and rules that had to be followed, but Roger might hold the clue that would get them past the red tape.

  Once the case was solved she saw no happiness for anyone. Cole and Amberly were probably dead, which would scar little Max for years to come and leave behind many people to mourn.

  Jackson would return home, taking with him a source of energy, of life that had filled the little house with his presence.

  She had a better understanding of her mother now. It wasn’t stupidity that had driven her mother into the arms of con men, it had been loneliness and the need to believe she was all the wonderful things they told her she was even as they fleeced her out of what money they could get.

  As Marjorie thought of being held in Jackson’s arms the night before, of the magic of their lovemaking, she realized that despite her fight against it, she had fallen for his smooth charm, his sexy smile and the bits and pieces of the man she’d seen beneath his facade.

  The case would eventually be solved, and Jackson would go home, but she knew it would take her a very long time to get him out of her system, to not think about him and ache for what might have been.

  * * *

  DEPUTY ROGER BLACK was in his usual spot behind Sheriff Caldwell’s desk. Next to the desk were wooden file cabinets, the tops stacked with files. A photo of Amberly and Cole sat on the desk, and Jackson knew that picture would be a constant reminder of his missing boss.

  He stood as they entered his office. “I was just about to get some coffee. Would either of you like a cup?”

  “No, thanks, we’re good,” Maggie replied.

  Roger sat back down. “It took me half the night, but I got the information you requested.” He shoved several documents aside and grabbed a sheet of paper and handed it to Jackson. “I included not just the street-licensed bikes, but also the names of folks I know who have dirt bikes.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.” He took the list and folded it up in his pocket, making the decision that he and Maggie would pore over it when they got back to her place.

  As the three of them caught up with the case as it stood, Jackson tried to ignore Maggie’s presence. He should have never bought her those tight jeans and that purple blouse. The purple was a perfect color for her red-blond hair and intense green eyes.

  Most of the time when he woke up after having sex with a woman, he was ready to bolt as quickly as possible. But Maggie was different. She was special, and each time he looked at her, a new desire returned to torment him.

  They had to get a quick solve and he had to get away from her. She threatened the very lifestyle he’d chosen for himself. When he’d seen her with little Max, he’d immediately seen her with another dark-haired little boy—his child.

  He’d never thought about having a family, having children, before in his life, but Maggie made him think about those things. And he couldn’t go there, especially not with her.

  He focused back on Roger’s musings about the case. “I just don’t understand any of it,” he said. “Usually when something bad happens here in town, eventually we hear rumors that yield clues. But this time we’ve heard absolutely nothing. Even the drunks down at Bledsoe’s haven’t given up any information that might be useful.”

  He reared back in the chair and shook his head. “Cole wasn’t just my boss, he was my friend. He was a good man who most folks in town liked and respected. He had no dark secrets that might have come back to bite him. I knew him.”

  “You’re speaking about him in the past tense,” Maggie said.

  Roger shrugged. “After all this time, it’s my belief that they’re dead. Nobody would keep them alive so long without a ransom note filled with some sorts of demands.”

  “And yet we don’t have their bodies,” Jackson said.

  Roger frowned. “I figure at some point in the future some farmer will stumble on the bodies in the middle of a field or hidden in some woods.”

  “And you don’t have any theories as to why the bodies wouldn’t be just left out in the open for somebody to find?” Jackson asked.

  Roger shook his head. “I’ll be honest with you, we’ve been out of theories and ideas about this case since the very beginning. We were hoping the o
fficials in Kansas City might come up with something.”

  “So far, we have nothing,” Jackson said. “Except for somebody who has Maggie and me in their sites.”

  “And you don’t know for sure where that threat is coming from?” Roger asked.

  “I’m guessing somebody from here, but the first attack happened in Kansas City, and last night’s attack came from somebody who was here in town and followed us. We’re working the case from both ends,” Jackson replied.

  “And I’ll keep working from this end. Hopefully that list I gave you will help.” Roger stood, as if aware that their conversation had come to a natural end.

  Minutes later they were back in the car and headed home. Jackson was grateful for Maggie’s silence, as his head spun with suppositions and possibilities.

  They had a meager list of potential suspects, and it was quite possible that the person responsible for Amberly and Cole’s disappearance wasn’t even on that short list.

  It was possible that they hadn’t even made personal contact with the perp, that he was flying far enough below their radar to be completely off the screen.

  Every person on the list in his pocket would have to be fully investigated. Even though he had no real evidence, he still believed the person responsible for the crime, the person who had attempted to kill him and Maggie twice, was from Mystic Lake.

  “Home, sweet home,” he said as he pulled into Maggie’s driveway. There was no sign of the panel van that had been there before.

  Jackson cut the engine on the car and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. It took him only minutes to connect with the tech who had done the work on the house and learn the details of what had been done.

  “Okay,” he said as he dropped his cell phone back in his shirt pocket. “We’re all set.”

  Together they got out of the car and as they approached the house he saw Maggie looking at the structure carefully, as if expecting to see trip lines and big cameras.

  He laughed and she looked at him. “What? Were you expecting rolls of barbed wire and steel bars?”

  She grinned sheepishly. “I was expecting something.”

  “The eyes that protect us are no bigger than a fly. We aren’t hooked up to any monitoring system. I told him to put the camera monitors in your bedroom, and if anyone tries to breach the house through a door or a window, a siren will sound that should not just awaken us but the entire neighborhood.”

  “The wonders of modern technology,” she replied as she unlocked the door. They stepped inside and he immediately moved to a keypad on the wall and punched in a series of numbers.

  “The code is random. I’ll write it down for you and you need to memorize it. Too many people make the mistake of making their codes their birthdates or part of their social security or some other sequence of numbers that a determined bad guy could ferret out.”

  Maggie nodded and headed down the hallway to her bedroom. Jackson tried to ignore the sway of her hips in the tight jeans as he followed behind her.

  He hated to admit that he thought maybe he’d told the tech to set up the system in her bedroom just so that he could actually see the room where she slept. He had a feeling that this visit would be his first and his last to the room that belonged to her alone.

  The bedroom was a shock. He’d expected monotones of black or gray and instead he walked into a flower garden. A floral spread covered the bed, with pink throw pillows in the center. A pink shaded lamp stood proudly on the nightstand, next to a creased paperback written by a famous profiler.

  The dresser top held an array of lotions and perfumes and a picture of her and her mother. Above the dresser, the wall now held several medium-sized television screens that gave views of the front of the house, the back and both sides.

  “We should be snug as two bugs in a rug in here,” he said.

  She turned and her lips turned up in knowing amusement. “You did this on purpose. You had him mount the monitors in here so that we’d have to spend time together in my bed if we wanted to see what was happening outside the house.”

  “You wound me to the core,” he protested. “I just figured if you wanted to keep this system after I’m gone it would be easier for you if the monitors were in here.”

  She eyed him dubiously, and love for her buoyed up inside him, unwelcome and unwanted but there nevertheless. “Let’s head to the table and take a look at this list that Roger gave us,” he said gruffly.

  He needed to be out of this room, where glimpses of her femininity showed, where her scent filled the air and made his desire to possess her again surge.

  Once they were in the kitchen and seated across the small table from each other, he pulled out the list that Roger had prepared and scanned the names. Disappointment flared through him and he shoved the list in front of Maggie.

  Her brow wrinkled as she read, and the wrinkle turned into a sigh of frustration. “None of our potential suspects are on it. That means we’re going to have to investigate all these people, because it’s possible the perp is one of these names.

  “I’ll fax the list to Adam and he can get on the investigation from the office,” she said, her disappointment evident in her voice. “I’d so hoped that we’d have an answer by now, or at least a path to follow.”

  “Maybe Adam will be able to sort out who could be a potential threat on the list and who definitely isn’t,” Jackson said thoughtfully. “It would have been nice if Roger had given us not just names but ages, as well.”

  “It would have been nice if that motorcycle would have hydroplaned in the rain last night and crashed,” she said dryly. “But nothing about this case has been nice so far.”

  “Last night was nice.” He couldn’t help himself. The words were out of his mouth before his brain was engaged.

  She looked up at him, and her eyes held a soft vulnerability he’d never seen before. “You’re right. It was nice, and the truth of the matter is I’ve allowed you to get deep into my heart, Jackson.”

  She raised a hand to halt his response, though he wasn’t even sure what he intended to say. “It’s my problem, not yours. You have no ownership in it other than you are who you are. Women find you irresistible, and I guess this just confirms that I’m a normal woman at my core.”

  “Maggie...I...”

  Once again she stopped him from speaking, this time shoving back from the table and talking over him. “I didn’t realize how empty my life was until you came along. When you leave here I will be making some changes.”

  She gave him a small smile, defusing some of the tension in the air. “First thing I intend to do is order cable television. The second thing is that I’m going to have a long, difficult talk with my mother and get her settled into someplace more affordable.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, surprised to discover a lump in the back of his throat.

  “I’m also going to stop eating so many protein bars and learn how to cook. I’ll miss you desperately when you’re gone, but eventually I’ll get over you because I’ll have to. You’ll break my heart when you leave here, Jackson, but we both know we weren’t meant to be anything but partners. And now I’m going to go check out the monitors.”

  She didn’t wait for him to say anything, but scurried out of the kitchen and disappeared down the short hall. Jackson remained at the table, his heart twisting like a flag in a windstorm.

  She loved him. That was basically what she’d just confessed. She loved him and he loved her. But he would leave her brokenhearted. What she didn’t know was that she wasn’t the only one who would have a broken heart when Jackson returned home to Baton Rouge.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Four days. It had been four long days since the security had been installed and she and Jackson had been cooped up together waiting for something to happen.

 
; Four days since she’d foolishly confessed her feelings for Jackson, and since that time they had been stiffly polite to one another, unnaturally impersonal.

  She hadn’t intended to tell him how she felt about him, it had just happened, and now she wished she could take it back, return their relationship to the easy, slightly flirty and effective partnership they’d shared before.

  Equally as difficult was the fact that nothing new about the case of Amberly and Cole’s disappearance or the attacks on her and Jackson had come to light. They were dangling themselves out there like worms on a hook, but the shark hadn’t even circled them yet.

  They’d stopped throwing out theories and ideas to each other, having exhausted the topic to death. Jackson paced the small confines of the house like a caged animal, his frustration and pent-up energy nearly driving her mad.

  They both needed something to happen. A blip on the monitors, the ring of an alarm would almost be a relief. At least it would break the tense monotony of waiting for something to occur.

  She’d been in touch with her director several times during the past few days. She’d learned that the case in Bachelor Moon was still an open one, that the three people who had gone missing from the Bachelor Moon Bed and Breakfast had yet to be found.

  Both the FBI in Kansas City and Baton Rouge were still reluctant to draw the conclusion that the two crimes were related, especially given the attacks that had happened on Marjorie and Jackson...a distinct difference from anything that had happened in Bachelor Moon.

  It was early afternoon and Marjorie was seated at the table, staring unseeing out the window. She sat up as Jackson came into the room. “I feel like a shriveled-up worm left dangling on a hook that nobody wants to bite,” she said.

  “Trust me, I feel the same way.” He threw himself into the chair opposite her and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, maybe this hole-up-and-wait idea was a bad one.”

  She shrugged. “It made sense to me at the time.”

  “Yeah, it made sense to me, too, but I didn’t expect it to take so long for somebody to come after us.”