Veronica looked over at the van where Gracie sat in the window.
“Gracie went up with them to Locke’s ranch in Montana. She found remains in Locke’s barn.”
Turning back to Nessa, Veronica gave a resigned sigh.
“A class ring was found with the remains. It led us back to Sky Lake. The rest was pure detective work,” she said. “Frankie and Barker found the trail back to Skylar’s mother, and Charlie Day was able to confirm their findings.”
Nessa felt as if she’d missed something.
“So, Skylar’s mother was…”
“A woman named Summer Fairfax,” Veronica finished. “She disappeared from Sky Lake when she was just eighteen years old. No one there ever knew what happened to her.”
A shadow fell over Veronica’s face.
“Well, someone knew,” she corrected herself. “Someone must have helped Locke abduct Summer and cover his tracks.”
“That must be the person Agent Day is worried about,” Nessa said. “She thinks Locke had an accomplice over the years. Someone who helped him launder money and traffic women and drugs.”
The door to the van opened and Finn stuck out his head.
“Sorry, Ronnie, but if we’re gonna be able to set up in time for a live feed, we need to get going.”
Veronica gave him a thumbs up, and Finn retreated into the van.
“Agent Day thinks Locke’s accomplice may have killed the woman in Sky Lake yesterday,” Nessa said, speaking quickly. “She believes he’s trying to erase his tracks and eliminate possible witnesses.”
Knowing she didn’t have much time, Nessa decided to be blunt.
“Charlie Day warned me Locke’s accomplice might try coming after you and your family. I guess she was talking about Skylar.”
Veronica’s face grew pale at the thought, then she shook her head.
“Whoever killed June Taggert is up in Sky Lake,” she insisted. “And Skylar and I are down here. Besides, no one even knows Skylar is in Willow Bay, or that she’s Locke’s daughter.”
Crossing to the van, Veronica put her hand on the door.
“As long as it stays that way, we’ll be fine.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Peyton was huddled around a desk with Marlowe and several of his agents when Nessa opened the door and stuck her head into the briefing room. The police chief spotted her next to Vanzinger and slipped inside.
“Amber Sloan has set up the meeting with Mack,” Vanzinger announced as soon as he saw Nessa. “He’s agreed to make a pick-up from Windy Harbor Airpark the day after tomorrow.”
Vanzinger’s blue eyes were bright with excitement as he delivered the news, but Nessa didn’t seem impressed.
“We need to keep this operation strictly confidential,” Marlowe cautioned behind Vanzinger, his voice stern. “That means no one talks about the operation outside of this room.”
“Agent Marlowe, are you sure Amber’s not playing us?”
Peyton heard the doubt in Nessa’s voice, and winced, expecting Marlowe to snap back at her, but the FBI agent just shrugged.
“You never can be sure with someone like Amber Sloan, but everything she’s given us so far has checked out. I think it makes sense to take a chance.”
The skeptical look on Nessa’s face remained.
“And you think the task force can take this guy down?” she asked. “Do you even know who Mack really is, or what he’s capable of?”
“No, we don’t know his real identity yet, which is why this operation is so important,” Marlowe replied. “What we do know is that Mack has been a key player in the trafficking syndicate for years, and that he’s handled shipments for Diablo and other users on the darknet board Donovan Locke was using.”
Challenging Marlowe with a hard stare, Nessa moved closer.
“If this guy really was working with Locke and Diablo, he could be just as dangerous,” she said. “So, you need to be real sure you know what you’re doing.”
Peyton saw Marlowe’s back stiffen, but he just nodded.
“Rest assured we’ll take every precaution, Chief Ainsley.”
He turned back to the table and continued to review the plans, as Nessa motioned for Peyton and Vanzinger to join her in the hall.
When they were alone, the hard expression fell away, and her shoulders slumped.
“We need to find Misty Bradshaw,” Nessa said. “If you can’t find Misty, I think you’ll need to pay Amber Sloan another visit.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Fox Hollow Apartments looked even more worn and shabby than Peyton had remembered. She and Vanzinger had banged on Misty’s door and tried to look through the windows, but no one was home in the apartment over the garage or in the main house.
Deciding they’d better follow Nessa’s instructions without delay, they were once again standing outside Amber’s door, and they had a plan to persuade Amber to let them inside.
Peyton doubted Misty was being held inside the little apartment, but there could be clues, or maybe Amber would let something slip.
“What do you want now?”
Amber stood in the doorway wearing a pink tracksuit and a scowl.
“We want to go over the plans again,” Vanzinger said, pushing his way into the room. “Just to make sure everything’s in order.”
Following Vanzinger inside, Peyton kept one hand on her Glock as she looked around the apartment, as if making sure they were alone.
“I’ve already gone over everything with Agent Marlowe,” Amber said, immediately suspicious. “It’s all set for day after tomorrow at the Windy Harbor Airpark. I’ll make the drop and leave. Your team will be waiting to move in. What more do you want to talk about?”
Peyton cocked her head.
“We need to know if you’re willing to wear a wire, for one thing,” she said. “That way we can make sure you’re safe during the drop and can record anything Mack might say to incriminate himself.”
“I’m not worried,” Amber scoffed. “I can take care of myself. And Mack doesn’t talk much, so we don’t need to bother with a wire.”
Catching Peyton’s dubious expression, Amber frowned.
“What’s wrong, Detective Bell?” she asked, her eyes hostile under her frizzy bangs. “If you have something you want to say, don’t hold back, just spit it out.”
An angry flushed washed over Peyton’s cheeks at the woman’s disrespect. She didn’t want to put Misty in jeopardy, but something was telling her Amber Sloan would never just let Misty walk away.
If anyone had done something to harm Misty Bradshaw, or to scare her out of town, it had to be Amber Sloan.
“Do you know a woman named Misty Bradshaw?” Peyton asked, ignoring Vanzinger’s startled stare. “We need to speak to her.”
“Never heard of her,” Amber said with a sarcastic smile. “What’s she supposed to have done?”
Putting a restraining hand on Peyton’s arm, Vanzinger spoke up.
“She’s not done anything that we know of,” Vanzinger said. “We just need to talk to her. Her family’s looking for her.”
“Well, if I ever meet her, I’ll let her know you two are looking for her,” Amber sneered. “Now, I got stuff to do.”
“Listen, we have witnesses that have seen you and Misty together,” Peyton said, not willing to give up. “So, just tell us where she is, and we’ll leave you alone.”
A crazed gleam lit up Amber’s eyes, and she moved closer, sticking a small finger in Peyton’s face.
“Are you calling me a liar, Detective Bell?”
Spittle flew from the woman’s lips along with her bitter words, and Peyton stepped back, startled by her outburst.
“Cause if you’re calling me a liar, then our deal is off,” she threatened. “I’ll tell Mack the shipment is cancelled.”
“Let’s all calm down,” Vanzinger said, using his thick body to shield Peyton from Amber’s wrath. “There’s no need to get upset. We’re only asking a few questions.”
“Just go, cause I don’t need this shit,” she muttered. “I’ve done my part and kept my word and you still treat me like trash.”
Vanzinger took Peyton’s arm and steered her out the door.
As she stepped out onto the corridor, Peyton saw a shadow slip around the corner. She tried to pull loose from Vanzinger’s hand, but he kept hold of her arm as he turned back to Amber.
“You go ahead and cancel the plan,” Vanzinger said, his voice cold. “As long as you don’t mind doing some serious time. Just make sure you don’t go anywhere near Misty Bradshaw.”
The sound of a car starting somewhere close by drew Peyton’s attention. She was suddenly sure someone had been listening outside the door. Had they overheard their whole conversation?
Amber slammed the door shut just as Peyton twisted out of Vanzinger’s grip. She jogged down to the edge of the corridor, but the parking lot was empty.
Whoever had been listening was gone.
✽ ✽ ✽
Peyton was still rattled when she and Vanzinger arrived back at the police station. She sank into her chair and stayed slumped at her desk while Vanzinger went to get a cup of coffee in the break room.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and Peyton was tempted to ignore it, then reminded herself that her mother may be calling.
Breathing a sigh of relief as she saw Frankie’s name appear on the display, she tapped Accept Call and held the phone to her ear, a smile spreading across her face despite her previous bad mood.
“I was hoping you’d call,” she said. “It’s been a rough day.”
“Tell me about it,” Frankie replied, his voice hoarse. “It’s not been a day in the park here, either.”
Peyton’s smile faded.
“Have you been drinking, Frankie?”
The phone went quiet, then she heard him sigh.
“I had just one last night,” he finally said.
“Just one drink made you feel this bad?”
“Just one bottle.”
Peyton didn’t laugh. She knew it wasn’t a joke. When Frankie fell off the wagon, he fell hard.
“Why, Frankie?” she asked. “What happened?”
“It’s this case,” he muttered. “It’s just, well, I’ve been working this case, and I got a little too emotionally invested and…”
“And what?”
Peyton wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answer.
“And so yesterday I kind of…went off on a woman I was interviewing,” he admitted. “And she turned up dead an hour later.”
She waited for the punchline, then realized he was serious.
“Say that again?”
“I went to question a woman. An old friend of the missing person Veronica hired us to find.”
Frankie’s voice faltered.
“Let’s just say the discussion got a little heated, and an hour later the woman turned up dead. Her assistant heard us arguing and now the Sheriff thinks I’m a person of interest.”
Peyton stared at the phone, momentarily speechless.
“And you’d been drinking?” she finally managed to get out.
“What are you trying to say?”
She winced at the hurt and frustration in Frankie’s voice.
“Don’t tell me you actually think I could have killed her?”
“Of course not,” Peyton protested, realizing how her question had sounded. “I know you better than that.”
She sucked in a deep breath.
“I know you couldn’t hurt a fly, but the police up there don’t know you. And if you were drinking, they may try to use that against you.”
“I wasn’t drinking…not then,” he said. “But after that I just freaked out. I mean, what if they try to pin this on me? I can’t go back to prison. I can’t go through that again.”
Guilt tore through Peyton at the thought of her role in Frankie’s past wrongful conviction. But she couldn’t waste energy on regrets. The best way to make it up to Frankie was to help him now.
“Okay, so who is this missing person you’ve been looking for?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you.”
He sounded like a petulant child, and Peyton fought the urge to scold him like one. Taking a deep breath, she tried again.
“Frankie, I can’t help you if you keep secrets.”
Her words prompted a stab of doubt at the thought of the secrets she’d been keeping from him. But that was different, wasn’t it?
“I won’t tell anyone what you tell me,” she assured him. “But I need to know what’s going on.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the connection.
“The U.S. Marshals found a girl at Donovan Locke’s ranch when he was taken down,” Frankie finally said. “Turns out she was Locke’s daughter. The FBI and the Marshals matched their DNA to prove it.”
Peyton raised her eyebrows, surprised to hear he’d been working with the feds on his secret case.
“Veronica hired me and Barker to find out what happened to the girl’s mother,” he added. “We were with Deputy Santino and Agent Day when they found her mother’s remains in Montana.”
“I’m confused,” Peyton interrupted. “Why would Veronica hire you and Barker to investigate?”
“Locke is Veronica’s father, remember? So, the girl is her sister.”
Peyton nodded, starting to put the pieces into place.
“We were able to figure out the mother was from Sky Lake, but we still don’t know how she ended up at Locke’s ranch in Montana,” Frankie said, sounding increasingly glum. “So, we’re here trying to find out about the mother, and then the shit hits the fan.”
A growing sense of dread filled Peyton as she tried to follow all the incriminating threads that tied back to Sky Lake.
She was starting to think the little town had hidden its connection to a predatory network of corruption and death for decades, and that it had now caught Frankie in its dangerous web.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Frankie held the phone to his ear with a shaky hand. There was nothing Peyton could do to fix the mess he’d gotten himself into, but he couldn’t bear to hang up. The sound of her voice eased the anxiety that had consumed him ever since June Taggert’s body had been discovered the day before.
“I’ll ask Agent Marlowe to talk to the sheriff in Sky Lake.”
Frankie could tell Peyton was trying to sound optimistic.
“The joint task force has been looking into connections in the town,” she confided. “And Agent Marlowe has already reached out to Agent Day to collaborate, so together we’ve got to be able to come up with a real suspect.”
A roster of suspects rolled through Frankie’s mind, but he had a feeling the sheriff wouldn’t want to hear his ideas.
“Sheriff Holt is going apeshit,” Frankie said, picturing Holt’s red, sweaty face. “He claims there had never been a homicide in Sky Lake until we came along and started asking questions.”
Frankie reached into his pocket for a stick of gum, but his pocket was empty. In fact, even his wallet was gone.
“I’d bet my last buck that Sheriff Holt’s looking to pin this on an outsider,” Frankie insisted. “And I’m an easy mark.”
Feeling around in his other pocket, Frankie started to panic. His brand-new driver’s license was in his wallet, along with his cash and credit cards, and now it was all gone.
“I’m going to try to find Agent Marlowe now,” Peyton said. “We have a big operation planned for tomorrow, so I need to talk to him now, while I can still get his attention.”
His heart plummeted at her words.
“Just be careful and stay sober,” she added. “And call me later.”
“Sure, I’ll call you later,” he muttered. “Even if Sheriff Holt arrests me, I should still get at least one phone call.”
After he’d dropped the phone on the bedside table, Frankie paced the small hotel room, holding hi
s aching head and trying to think.
He replayed Peyton’s comment that the task force had a big operation planned for the next day. He didn’t like being up in Sky Lake while she was doing dangerous work down in Willow Bay.
Giving into impulse, Frankie scooped up his phone and tapped on Barker’s name. He’d updated his partner earlier, admitting to the mess he was in, and Barker hadn’t been happy.
But now Frankie wanted to ask a favor.
“I’m following a subject,” Barker said, not bothering with a greeting. “And I think I’ve hit gold.”
The excitement in Barker’s voice made Frankie forget about the favor. It wasn’t easy to get his partner worked up. The older man had been a police detective for years before retiring, and he’d seen a lot.
“You know Becky Morgan, right? Young nurse who leaves right at three o’clock every day?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen her come and go. Is that who you’re tailing?”
Frankie pictured the young woman’s blonde ponytail.
“She left work early, and seemed jumpy,” Barker said. “So, I decided to follow her. You’ll never guess where she went.”
Barker continued before Frankie could even try.
“Bayside Municipal Park, right down the road from Amber Sloan’s house,” Barker said. “You know, the woman with the white Camry that’s always hanging around the hospital.”
“Oh yeah, I know Amber Sloan,” Frankie replied, feeling a queasy ache in his stomach. “I wish I didn’t.”
Ignoring Frankie’s sarcastic remark, Barker continued.
“Well, I got some photos, so I think we’re going to be able to wrap up this case sooner than we thought.”
His partner’s good news didn’t manage to cheer Frankie up. It only confirmed that Amber Sloan was a drug dealer and low life who could put Peyton in danger.
“I need you to do me a favor,” Frankie blurted, rubbing at his red-rimmed eyes. “I want you to keep an eye on Peyton for me. I may be stuck up here for a while, and I’m worried about her.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Archer Holt took off his hat and ran a hand through his matted hair. Frankie figured the sheriff had to be pushing forty, but he still had a thick head of brown hair with no signs of gray.
Her Silent Spring Page 18
