Secrets and Lies (Hearts Of Braden Book 4)

by Susanne Matthews

  His last few words struck her, and she felt heat rising in her cheeks. He’d called her Mrs. Jacobson. No wonder he had stared at Mike strangely. He thought she was some kind of loose woman. Damn it. How many more misunderstandings would she have in this town?

  “Are you all right, Emily?” Julie asked.

  “I’m fine. Tired. I guess I was wool gathering. What were you saying?” Within minutes, she was embroiled in the conversation again, dismissing errant thoughts about Jackson Harris from her mind.

  Chapter Six

  “Goodnight, Uncle Cal,” Emily said and then hugged Julie. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Do you want to wait while I settle the bill, and I’ll walk you out?” Cal asked.

  “No, I know Julie wants to talk to Mrs. Worthington, and Mike said he’d see me to the car. I’ll be safe enough.”

  “Well, call if you need anything.”

  “I will.” She turned to Mike and tucked her arm in his. “Shall we? The elevator’s over here.”

  “There isn’t much more I can tell you,” Mike said as the doors closed sealing them into the small lift. “It doesn’t look like anyone at the plant is involved, but I sent the picture of the floater Cal recovered to Quantico to see if the FBI could identify him. The fish have done a number on his face so, it won’t be easy.”

  Emily chuckled. “Thanks for saving that little tidbit for after dessert.”

  The elevator stopped, and they walked through the deserted lobby and down the stairs to her car. Mike waited patiently while she unlocked her door.

  “Is there any way we can get together before next weekend to discuss the situation?” she asked, getting in the car.

  “I’m off Monday. Why don’t we meet at Buddy’s around seven? We can have something to eat and talk about what I’ve got so far. It isn’t much. I think your boss is barking up the wrong tree.”

  “That works, but I hope you’re wrong. Our intel came from someone on the inside, and if it’s faulty, he could’ve been made.”

  Mike frowned. “I didn’t realize they had a man inside the cartel.”

  “Apparently, he’s new, but Kyle trusts him. It’s taken a long time to get anything solid on the Chef.”

  “Is Jackson Harris aware of your real purpose in town?”

  She shook her head. “Kyle said to leave him out of the loop until I was sure he wasn’t involved. Cal feels I should tell him what’s going on, but since we still have no idea who the Chef is, what he looks like, or who’s liable to hook up with him in the area, the fewer people who know the truth about you, about us, the better off we’ll be. The Chef seems to have eyes and ears everywhere. You’ve worked a lot of undercover cases. Is it always like this—not knowing who the good guys are?”

  “It can be. The deeper the cover, the harder it is to remember who you are at times.”

  Emily shuddered. “I haven’t had many undercover assignments. In fact, this is the first time I’ve tackled one on my own, but you’re right. My husband often said the same thing.” She cocked her head. “You know, I can’t shake the feeling we’ve met before, and I don’t mean last Monday. I thought you looked familiar, but up close—”

  “It’s possible. Where were you stationed last? I move around a lot, but we could’ve met at one of the interagency training seminars.”

  “I was working on this case in El Paso. My husband and three other agents were killed when we walked into a trap.”

  “Hey. I was there working a case involving illegal aliens crossing into the United States from Mexico. I didn’t recognize your name.”

  “My full name is Jacobson Shepherd.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mike said, his voice betraying his surprise. “I met your husband a couple of times… nice guy. I can’t understand why I didn’t’ recognize you.” He frowned. “You were pregnant the last time I saw you. How’s the baby—must be two now?”

  Emily felt as if the darkness of the night was about to swallow her. She vaguely remembered the operation to stop the pipeline of illegal sex trade workers brought into the country by the Mexican cartel. There had been a number of FBI agents in and out of the office for almost a month. It made sense that she’d seen him there, but his comment about the baby and Alex brought tears to her eyes. “I was badly injured in the blast…”

  “You were there?” The color leeched from his face, and then he reddened, his ire obvious. “What kind of idiot sends a pregnant woman into a situation like that?”

  She frowned. “Neither Kyle nor Alex were idiots, and it was my case. I had the right to be there. If the place hadn’t been rigged to blow the way it did, I’d have been fine. As it was, Alex and the other two agents with us were killed, and I sustained a great deal of damage to the left side of my body. Plastic surgery repaired the injuries, although I sometimes have trouble remembering the face in the mirror is mine. I had to have an artificial hip joint put in and lost my left leg. The stumps about ten inches long, and I have one of those new prosthesis, the kind controlled by microprocessors in my knee that react to the impulses from the muscles in what’s left of my thigh. It isn’t perfect, and when I’m tired, it doesn’t work as well as it should, hence the cane tonight.”

  “What about the baby?”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she fought to stem them. “Our son sustained too much damage to survive.”

  “I’m so sorry, Emily.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t your fault,” she said, swallowing her misery and trying to put on her professional front. “The Chef was to blame, and I intend to see he pays for it. I’ll see you on Monday. Drive carefully.”

  “You, too, and watch your back. Mabel Loucks has been going around town getting people to sign some kind of petition against this food plan of yours. Then, she has a rather cutting letter to the editor in this week’s edition of the Braden Bugle, talking about wasting tax money on fancy menus and equipment when people don’t even have a roof over their heads. People around here are a might touchy right now, and some of them might be more riled up than others and try to take matters into their own hands.”

  “I know. I’ve already gotten hate mail, but it’s just posturing. As soon as she realizes that this will not only bring in money, but make her job easier, she’ll back down. Petitions and nasty notes don’t scare me. I’m tougher than that.” She rolled her eyes. “And that’s supposed to be the easy part of my assignment. Are you going my way?”

  “Which way would that be?”

  “West. I’ve got a place in the Sunset Apartments.”

  Mike whistled. “Fancy digs on the company’s dime. I’m definitely not going your way. All I have is a so-so room in a motel in Riveredge—need to be closer to the job site—but I can see where you’d need to keep up appearances by living someplace nice. Take care.” He waved as he walked toward the far end of the lot.

  Mike Reynolds would be a pleasant companion and a good source of information, but the idea of being in his company didn’t thrill her the way the thought of spending time with Jackson Harris did.

  Well, that isn’t going to happen, so forget it.

  Emily started the car, backed out of her parking space, and headed home. The rain, which had threatened all day, started as a fine mist, and she forced herself to concentrate on her driving. Kyle’s hang up about water came back to her. There’d been rain almost every day since she’d arrived, and while it was on and off, not the torrential downpours he’d described, it was enough to make the roads slick requiring extra care. The last thing she wanted to do was run over Rover or Fluffy and make more enemies in town. Mabel’s letter and petition had enough people thinking she was the devil incarnate. These people must really be on edge if Mike thought some of them might resort to violence to get rid of her.

  The Sunset Apartments were at the extreme west end of town, the latter part of the road was actually a section of the county road with deep ditches on each side. While the rain was light, as she neared the edge of town, sudden fog patches appeared,
making her antsy. She’d never been fond of driving in bad weather, and sore and tired as she was, the tension made everything worse.

  She was almost home when a large, dark SUV came out of nowhere and quickly moved up behind her. The headlights reflecting in the rearview mirror almost blinded her, and if it hadn’t been for the proximity alert warning from her car, it would have knocked her off the road. Using the defensive driving techniques she’d mastered, she managed to skirt the edge of the ditch and instead of a full push, the vehicle scraped along her rear fender. Struggling with the wheel, she hung onto the car and managed to get back up on the pavement.

  Shaking with reaction, she stopped the vehicle and leaned her head on the steering wheel, praying the car wouldn’t turn around and try again. Considering the ditches on either side of the road were several feet deep and currently filled with at least a foot or two of water, she could have been seriously injured. She doubted she would’ve been able to climb out of the car if she had to. As it was, the scrape along the rear fender would have to be fixed.

  “Stupid kids,” she muttered, hoping her heartbeat would slow down enough to let her breathe properly. “Where’s deputy Dumbass when you need him?”

  Bright lights in her rearview mirror cranked up her heartbeat again, but instead of speeding toward her, the vehicle, slowed and stopped. She reached for her purse, grabbed her gun and removed the safety, tucking the weapon tightly to her side.

  In the light from the vehicle’s headlamps, she recognized the body shape of the man hurrying toward her. Jackson Harris. Was it coincidence that brought him to her after the near accident or was he God’s answer to her prayer for help?

  Smarten up, Emily. God doesn’t answer prayers that way. Besides, you asked for the deputy. You know Jackson lives out this way. He probably saw it go down, and he’s just being neighborly. No superior being at work here.

  She lowered the power window.

  “Are you okay?” Jackson asked. “I saw that vehicle blow past you and then your lights moved to the right, and I thought you were going into the ditch for sure.”

  “So did I.”

  “I didn’t realize the idiot had actually hit the car until I walked by the scrape. He could’ve killed you. He passed me on the edge of town going hell-bent for leather, but at least he didn’t drive close enough to rub against the truck.

  “Did you recognize the vehicle?” she asked, hoping she could report it to Cal and at least find out who was driving that fast. Maybe the man was drunk and could potentially hurt someone else.

  “Nope. I can tell you it wasn’t a local, and he didn’t come from Buddy’s. Most people around her drive trucks or cars. There are a few mom vans, but a fancy SUV like that has to belong to one of the itinerant workers.” He frowned. “I will find out who it is, though. A guy like that is too dangerous to have around.” He peered at her closely, no doubt seeing the fear that had filled her on his last words. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Just a little shaken up. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  “Good. I’ll follow you back to your place, just to make sure no more idiots try to run you off the road.”

  She swallowed nervously. Could the near miss have been intentional? Was it someone Mabel had befriended who was trying to scare her? Maybe even someone in bed with the Chef trying to kill two birds with one stone?

  Her stomach roiled. “Thanks, I’m sure it was just someone not paying attention to the road—maybe using a cellphone, and he came too close when he passed me. There was a fog patch…” Who was she trying to convince, Jackson or herself? The attempt to hit her had been deliberate. If she hadn’t managed to pull over—she swallowed awkwardly. “You don’t think it could be one of Mabel’s supporters, do you?”

  “Mabel is all bark no bite. And I can’t see any of her cronies driving an SUV like that one and deliberately trying to force you off the road, but there are plenty of strangers around who might think getting rid of a government agent, even one from the FDA would be a good thing. I’ve noticed some less than stellar individuals hanging around, and I suspect the local drug dealers might see a Healthy Living Initiative as a threat to their livelihoods. But I’m just guessing.”

  “Have you noticed any changes that could be from dealers?” Was he working for the Chef? Was he trying to warn her off—the classic bad guy in a black vehicle, good guy in white?

  “Not exactly. I don’t see all the kids during the summer months, especially the ones who come from outside of town. Like any school these days, we’ve had a few problems with kids sampling drugs and testing the boundaries. Near the end of the term, I caught a few smoking up under the school bleachers. I’ll give you their names, and you can talk to them once you’re ready to start the program. I’ve noticed more people in the bars—not that I spend a lot of time there, but I often eat there … Disasters don’t always bring out the best in people.” He smiled showing off that dimple again.

  Instantly, she relaxed.

  “Ready to go, then? I have to feed the animals still. Never made it home earlier.”

  “You have animals?”

  “Just a few. The Double J Ranch used to run beef and dairy cattle as well as some horseflesh. When my uncle died last spring, I sold or leased some of the land and the animals to an old friend of mine. The last few years he was pretty much running things. I’ve kept a section of the homestead for myself and hung onto two Arabians for riding, a Guernsey for milk, and a few chickens.”

  “I love horses. You’d better not keep them waiting. I hope they aren’t out in this weather.”

  “No, I texted Heath that I’d be late. He took them inside for me before dark, and would’ve given them some hay, but I’ll give them their mash. They’ll be cranky if they don’t get their nightly treat soon.”

  “I appreciate your stopping…It’s the second time you’ve come to my rescue.”

  “Anytime. Give me a second to get back in the truck. I’ll flash my lights to let you know to pull out. Be careful, the road’s really slick, and there’s a low spot about a quarter mile ahead where the fog will be thicker.”

  “Okay.” Emily watched Jackson return to his truck, her mind still coming to grips with the idea that someone could have deliberately tried to force her off the road. She would call Mike as soon as she got in and have him look in the parking lots in Colchester and Riveredge for a dark SUV with a scrape along its front fender where he bumped her. She intended wait before mentioning it to Cal. He seemed a little overprotective, like Kyle, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  Jackson flashed his lights.

  Then Emily started the vehicle and pulled out onto the road, moving at barely the speed limit. When they came to the fog patch, she was sure she saw the shadow of a vehicle lurking in the dark, but with Jackson tight on her rear, she crossed through safely, and within minutes, the familiar sign indicating the apartment complex came into sight. She signaled her turn, but unlike the other night, Jackson followed her into the lot, stopping behind her vehicle.

  He got out and walked over. “I’ll wait and make sure you get inside safely. Like I said, there are a few seedy individuals around.”

  She chuckled. “I appreciate your concern. The Manning’s have become friends, so even though I don’t know the other tenants, I should be safe enough here. Mike said these were high end digs.”

  “Emily, I know it’s not my place to say, but watch yourself around Mike. He asks a lot of questions for a man working on a construction site. It’s as if he has a hidden agenda. I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t either.”

  It took everything in her not to burst out laughing. Of course, Mike had a secret. He was an undercover agent, and asking questions was part of what he had to do, but she needed to warn him to ease off. If the locals noticed his curiosity, they might all clam up, and when she started following up on whatever leads he’s supply, she wouldn’t get anything from anyone—of course, she had to convert Mabel first. The thought Jackson cared enough
to mention it warmed her. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she said getting out of the car and leaning heavily on her cane. “Thanks for the escort. I’m fine now.”

  “I always see my dates to the door.” He held out his arm.

  She took it, unable to stop the heat from flooding her as they walked to the doorway.

  He pulled open the glass door and held it for her.

  She was glad she kept her keys in the small outside pouch. Opening her purse would’ve revealed her gun, hastily shoved back inside when he’d returned to his truck. She unlocked the wire-reinforced glass door leading into the complex and turned. “Thanks again.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll see you next week.”

  He returned to the truck, and she watched him pull away. Maybe she should tell him everything. She would mention it to Mike when she saw him. He might not want his identity compromised—she realized she didn’t know what his assignment in Riveredge involved. Shrugging her shoulders, she closed the door and walked down the hall to her apartment. Then it dawned on her that whoever had left the note the other night had to be able to open that second locked door.

  * * * *

  Jackson pulled out of the apartment parking lot and turned right, heading toward home. When he’d recognized Emily’s car passing Buddy’s, he’d been surprised, and had hurried to get behind her. That damn SUV had come out of nowhere and blown past him going at least eighty miles an hour.

  There’d been a little trouble with some of the workers at the ethanol plant in Riveredge, but this guy, whoever the hell he was, was going the wrong way to be one of them. He’d probably been drinking at The Hart. If Kevin caught the bastard, he would throw the book at him.