Deadly Competition (Without a Trace)

by Roxanne Rustand

  At a light tap on the door, he looked up and found Grace peering apologetically around the corner. “Phone call.”

  “I’d rather not. I—”

  “This one isn’t a choice, Clint. It’s Sam Pierce, the FBI agent, you’d better pick up that phone.”

  FIVE

  Clint stared at the blinking red light on his desk phone, his stomach knotted with dread. Cold sweat trickled down his back. Please, God…don’t let this be bad news. Leah had—has—so much to offer. A daughter who loves her, and those two are all I have left. Please….

  An encounter with the sheriff only meant frustration, because he’d been ineffectual during most of the tragedies and investigations this year. Only his talk about retirement had kept the more vocal townspeople from starting a campaign for removing him from office.

  But a call from FBI Special Agent Sam Pierce, who’d been on assignment in Loomis for a few months after the rash of murders in January and who’d recently married Leah’s friend and Sarah’s psychologist, Jocelyn, meant something far more serious. The team of special agents had gone back to New Orleans, though, so why would Agent Pierce be calling now? The possibility of bad news turned Clint’s blood to ice.

  Forcing his shaking hand to still, he picked up the phone. “Hi, Sam.”

  “I’m out at that old house by the pier, where Leah’s shoe was found. Some kids found a bracelet in the mud, about fifteen feet away. I’d like you to take a look.”

  First the shoe…and now a piece of jewelry. Were these the hallmarks of a desperate struggle to escape the real murderer? “I’ll be there right away,” he managed hoarsely.

  “We are going to find her, Clint. I promise you.”

  Sam meant it; Clint had no doubt about that. But after four months, the chance that Leah’d be found alive and well seemed more remote than ever.

  When Clint pulled his truck to a stop near the old pier, Sam was leaning against the post of a security light, waiting. Tall, dark and fit, he looked like the kind of man a guy wanted on his side in a fight, though with the FBI badge clipped at his belt, only a drunk or a fool would dare take him on.

  But right now his face was grim and subdued, as if he were about to walk into a funeral. He nodded toward the abandoned house set back in the encroaching, dense vegetation flanking the swampy waters of the bayou.

  Clint silently fell in step, his insides churning as they headed for one of Loomis’s stately homes that had fallen into ruin decades ago.

  They stepped into the deep shade of the live oaks that had once hovered protectively over the home but now cast it in gloom.

  “It was found over there,” Sam said, pointing to an over-growth of giant blue iris that had probably been the showpiece of a graceful garden. “Did Leah ever hang around this place as a child?”

  “Some kids told ghost stories and dared each other to explore abandoned plantation houses. She was always too afraid. But she did—she does like to come over here to pick flowers, now and then.”

  Sam pulled a sealed plastic bag from the breast pocket of his shirt. “Recognize this?”

  Clint briefly closed his eyes. Please, Lord…help us find anything that will lead us to her. And please, let her be safe and well.

  It was a heavy, gleaming silver chain with a flat, lozenge-shaped solid piece in the center. Even through the smears of mud, it looked expensive. He didn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed. “There’s very little chance that this was Leah’s. I don’t recognize it. And it looks too expensive.”

  Sam’s casual gaze sharpened. “She could’ve purchased it just before her disappearance. You might not have seen her wear it.”

  Relief flooded through Clint like gentle rain as the image of Leah struggling here with her killer faded. “It isn’t hers.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Earl wouldn’t give her something expensive like that, and she’d never spend that much money on herself.”

  “What about a lover?”

  “Leah never had one. Ever.” Clint clenched his jaw. “I know her better than anyone else does, and she wouldn’t have hurt her husband and daughter like that.”

  “Take a closer look.”

  Clint accepted the sealed bag and turned it over. His heart lodged in his throat. The initials LJF were engraved in delicate script on the back. Leah Jane Farley. “Did you see the initials?”

  Sam nodded.

  “I still can’t imagine her having this bracelet. I know I never saw her wear it.” Clint closed his eyes briefly, fighting back the images of his sweet, delicate sister, who might’ve been in this very spot last January, fighting off an assailant. “Yet in a town this size, who else’s could it be?”

  Sam tipped his head in acknowledgment. “I already had a search done. In the last twenty years, no Loomis resident has had the same initials except for a ninety-year-old farmer living at the nursing home and one of the Thompson’s four-year-old twins. Of course, it could belong to someone who was just passing through.”

  “Maybe she got a deal on eBay…or someone pawned it at the shop and never picked it up, so she had it engraved. I doubt Earl would give it to her instead of reselling it, but I suppose anything could happen. What about fingerprints?”

  “The kids who found it wiped most of the mud off. I doubt there’s anything left, but we’ll check.”

  “And if it was hers, she could’ve lost it picking flowers last year, maybe.” The thought gave Clint a spark of hope. “So this still wouldn’t mean that she’d been attacked or abducted.”

  At Sam’s silence, Clint looked up and caught the other man’s solemn expression. “Except for that blood-stained shoe.”

  “Which was typed and matched to her, though we couldn’t lift a good enough sample for DNA. So you can still hope that she simply ran away on her own for some reason.” Sam dropped the bag in his pocket and pulled some business cards from his wallet. “I know you have one, but spread these around.”

  “Thanks. And tell your wife I really appreciate all she has done for Sarah.” Sam and Jocelyn had dated when they worked on cases in the past, then got reacquainted earlier in January during the first stages of the murder investigation. After realizing they really loved each other, they’d married. Every time Clint saw them together they were arm in arm, their love for each other clear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.”

  “I’ll let her know. We’re going to find out what happened to your sister, Clint. And the good Lord willing, we’re going to bring her home.”

  Clint shook Sam’s hand, then watched the special agent head for a dark sedan parked beyond a line of ancient live oaks.

  Another day without answers.

  Weeks turning to months, the months adding up one after another. And still, they were no closer to answers than before. God, we need your help—and Leah does, too. What am I missing in all of this?

  Clint had asked to meet Mandy and Sarah for lunch at the Super Burger fast food joint on the outskirts of Loomis, because he said it was her favorite place.

  If it was her favorite, Mandy didn’t want to see the child’s reaction to a place she didn’t like. Eyes downcast, Sarah obediently sat at a bright yellow plastic table without sparing a glance at the fenced play area with its colorful play equipment just outside—even when a little girl zoomed off the orange slide and came to plaster her face against the glass and wave at her.

  “Do you know her?”

  Sarah slid a quick look toward the windows. “That’s Camryn.”

  “Don’t you want to go out and play?” Mandy glanced at her watch. “Your uncle won’t be here for another five or ten minutes.”

  Sarah shook her head. “She said bad things.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  Her lower lip trembling, Sarah silently picked at a loose thread on her jeans.

  The chain of gossip was probably alive and well, and the younger set probably heard their parents talking. To a child who desperatel
y missed her mother, how awful was it to hear other children repeat those terrible rumors?

  “I’m sorry if your friend wasn’t nice. But you know that your mom loves you very much and will come back as soon as she can. And you know she’s a good momma, who would never hurt anyone. Right?”

  A tear traced down Sarah’s cheek. “Camryn says Momma bad.”

  “Well, I don’t believe it. And neither does your uncle Clint, so you just be nice and I think your friends will be nice, too.”

  The child seemed so fragile, so overwhelmed, that Mandy opened her arms and welcomed Sarah into her lap, where she snuggled against Mandy’s shoulder and started to suck her thumb.

  “I want Momma back,” Sarah said brokenly. “Why won’t she come back?”

  Over the child’s shoulder, Mandy saw Clint walk through the door. Her heart lifted as she caught sight of his handsome face. But when she saw his tense, distracted expression, she dropped the hand she’d started to wave.

  His eyes widened with alarm when he took in Sarah’s distress, and he lengthened his stride. “What’s wrong?” He reached for Sarah and swept her into his arms, pulling back to look at her face. “Did you get hurt, sweetie?”

  His immediate, protective reaction touched her heart, stirring Mandy’s feelings for him at a far deeper, more primitive level than his dark good looks. She rested a hand at her waist, feeling a flash of sadness. Would she ever have a family with someone like Clint, who would guard and protect her children against all dangers?

  She doubted it very much.

  “Mandy?”

  She shook off her melancholy thoughts at the sound of Clint’s deep voice. “Sorry—just thinking.” She tipped her head toward the mother and child in the play area and mouthed the word gossip.

  He sliced a glance toward the other woman, his expression dark and unreadable. “Let’s go someplace else to eat.”

  But before they made it to the door, the little girl from the playground came bouncing into the eating area and called Sarah’s name.

  Sarah wiggled until Clint put her down, and turned to face her friend.

  “Sarah, how come you don’t come to school anymore?” Camryn looked up at Mandy and her eyes widened. “Is she your new mama?”

  “Ms. Erick is Sarah’s new nanny,” Clint said with a forced smile. “Sarah will probably be back at school next fall.”

  Camryn’s mother crossed the room and extended a hand to Mandy. “I’m Olivia Lenox—Camryn’s mother.” The woman was dressed in champagne slacks and a matching cashmere sweater, her makeup perfectly accenting her oval face and china blue eyes. Her expression was frankly assessing as she took in Mandy’s plain ponytail, casual sweater and jeans. “So glad to meet you.”

  Mandy managed a smile as she accepted the brief handshake, wishing she could melt into the shadows. “Same here.”

  Olivia rested her manicured, bare left hand on Clint’s forearm. “I continue to pray for your family,” she murmured. “A day doesn’t pass when I don’t think of your dear sister. Have you heard anything? Anything at all?”

  “No.” Clint took a step back. “I’m still praying as well.”

  “I know you’ve done a lot of searching on your own. If Leah is still out there, I’m sure you’ll find her.” As if suddenly remembering the presence of Leah’s daughter, Olivia stooped to rest her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “I hope you’ll come over for a playdate again soon. We’ve missed you.”

  Staring at her shoes, Sarah nodded.

  Olivia glanced at her watch and raised a brow. “Goodness. Where has the time gone? I’ve got to get over to the courthouse. I promised to help sort through the Mother of the Year pageant entries and make sure all of them qualify.” She gave Mandy a conspiratorial smile. “The deadline is just around the corner, and I can’t wait to see who’s entered this year.”

  Clint snorted. “A few that shouldn’t be making the final round, I’m sure.”

  “My momma’s the best,” Camryn announced with a proud lift of her chin.

  “No, mine is!” Sarah shot back.

  “Yours hurt your daddy and ran away,” the little brunette scoffed. “She bad. My daddy said so.”

  “Camryn!” Clearly embarrassed, Olivia grabbed her daughter’s hand and marched her to the door. “Please, forgive us. That certainly isn’t a topic of conversation at our house.”

  But a child would hardly think up such a statement on her own.

  “That’s why I took Sarah out of preschool,” Clint said, “and why I don’t often bring her to town. It’s hard enough dealing with the sadness when we’re at home. Facing public opinion just makes it worse.”

  He scooped Sarah into his arms and grinned at her, though there was no glint of humor echoed in his eyes. “People are just silly, aren’t they? So tell me, do you want pizza or do you want a cheeseburger?”

  “Burger.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “C-can I go home to my house first?”

  Clint flinched. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe that’s not such a good idea. Remember last time?”

  “I want to.” Sarah’s voice rose. “I want to see my room and my toys and my momma!”

  He held her tightly. “Last time, you were really upset. Remember what Ms. Jocelyn said at one of your appointments? She said it wasn’t such a good idea to go there. Not until your mommy comes back.”

  “Please Unca Clint?” Sarah’s voice wobbled on a note of desperation and longing. “I won’t cry. I promise.”

  The look of grief on Clint’s face and Sarah’s tear-filled eyes shook Mandy to the core. She’d thought she understood the gravity of the situation, but until now hadn’t seen just how raw the emotions still were, how devastating the situation was, despite the passage of months. Clint’s calm demeanor had effectively masked so much. What have I gotten myself into?

  They drove downtown and stopped in front of Earl’s Pawnshop, where Clint sorted through his keys, hesitated on a long sigh then unlocked the door.

  Just walking inside filled her with a sense of sadness, tinged with horror. What had it been like for poor Leah to discover her husband’s bloody body here?

  A layer of dust covered display cases filled with an assortment of watches and cameras and bits of jewelry. A jumble of electronic goods crammed the shelves, while another case held a variety of handguns and shotguns. Drawers hung open and papers littered the floor, as if a fierce wind had blown through. In every direction, the place was dark and dingy, smelling of mold and mildew and the end of a grim life that must have yielded little joy.

  “Earl and Leah were looking for a new location,” Clint said as he flipped on a bank of lights. “They lived upstairs for a few years to save their money, but they had dreams of something more.” He gestured around the room. “It looked a lot better before the investigators came in and tore the place apart, looking for clues. I’ve been trying to get over here to work on the mess.”

  Sarah walked slowly around the perimeter of the room but gave wide berth to a closed door leading to a back room.

  Clint turned away from her and lowered his voice as he faced Mandy. “Earl was found back there,” he whispered. “I keep the door locked now. I just don’t know how she’ll react if she ever goes inside.”

  “Aren’t there any suspects at all?”

  He shook his head. “There were, but none have panned out. Can you imagine? In a town this size, people grow up together and see each other on the street all the time. Yet there’s a killer out there—someone who probably committed all three murders—and he’s walking amongst us as free as can be. And not one of us knows if he’s gonna strike again.”

  “Daddy?” Sarah’s voice trembled. “Daddy?”

  A rustling sound came from a back corner of the shop. Silence—then something heavy crashed to the floor with a sound of breaking glass.

  Sarah screamed.

  SIX

  Clint was at Sarah’s side in a heartbeat. She flung herself into his arms, still screaming as she
clawed at his shirt, trying to climb higher in his arms.

  “I thought Daddy came back! I thought it was him!”

  Clint spun around, carrying her onto the sidewalk with Mandy at his heels, and took them to the truck he’d parked a few spaces down. “Stay out here for a bit, so we don’t contaminate the scene with too much activity.”

  Mandy’s face blanched. “Y-you saw someone?”

  “No, but I thought I heard someone go out the back window, and I found the glass broken. I would’ve gone after him, but I had Sarah clinging to me and she was just too upset to put down. I’ll call the sheriff and have someone come out to take a look.” He tossed Mandy the keys, then pulled a couple of twenties from his billfold. “It might take awhile, though. Why don’t you take her out for that lunch I promised her?”

  Mandy frowned. “Maybe you shouldn’t go back in.”

  “The intruder is long gone, unless he’s a fool.” Clint glanced over his shoulder. “In broad daylight, that window and all of the doors are in plain view of the street or alley.”

  To her credit, Mandy didn’t argue. She immediately lifted Sarah into the truck and climbed in after her, then locked the doors before turning to fasten Sarah into her car seat.

  There were people walking on the street and cars were passing by. The café would be busy, too, offering reassuring activity, so she wouldn’t feel alone.

  He gave her a grim smile, then turned and strode back into the pawnshop, shutting the front door to eliminate the risk of shoppers deciding to walk in.

  It wasn’t the presence of an intruder that he was concerned about right now. The suspect had clearly fled and wouldn’t be coming back in broad daylight.

  Without touching anything, he made his way down the hall and discovered an open window, with long, deep scratches in the softened, age-worn pine of the windowsill, probably made by a crowbar. The place had been securely locked up last evening, when he took his usual cruise past the building.