Cold Malice

by Toni Anderson

  At the time, it had been all she’d known, but looking back?

  A nightmare.

  God, what had they been thinking?

  Her parents’ ashes had been scattered somewhere over these fields as per their last will and testament, but there was no grave marker or tombstone to worship.

  Were their spirits still here? Had they finally found peace?

  Tess pushed out of her door and jumped down to the snow that rose to her knees.

  “Tess,” McKenzie warned. “You can’t go in there.”

  The cabin she’d grown up in was about two-hundred and fifty yards away down the winding, recently plowed driveway. She’d assumed the place would have fallen into ruin by now, but all the buildings were freshly painted and the main cabin had a new roof.

  Someone had restored it.

  Was someone living here?

  That wasn’t possible. But who’d plowed the drive? And why?

  Her heart thumped crazily under her ribs. She climbed the gate, ignoring the “No Trespassing” sign and Mac’s urgent shouts.

  What was he going to do? Arrest her?

  Needles of ice cold air took her breath and reminded her of all those frigid winters she’d spent right here on this hill. All the times she’d had to break the ice in the animals’ water troughs to allow them to drink.

  On the driveway, the snow only came up to her ankles and she moved quickly toward the house, watching carefully for signs of life. A car door slammed behind her, Mac’s inventive cursing echoing through the valley.

  The wind rattled the branches of the nearby cottonwoods and drew tears from her eyes. She walked onward, passing the spot where Harlan Trimble had lived, and where her sister had died. Her throat squeezed painfully.

  The cabin drew her. It was single-story, deceptively small from the front, with five bedrooms—although hers and Ellie’s rooms had been no bigger than some people’s shoe closets—and a dining room. Her parents had wanted more kids, but Francis had suffered several miscarriages and two stillbirths before Bobby had arrived. Tess spotted the kitchen window where she’d often stood and watched the sun go down.

  She stood quietly for a moment as the ghosts from her past whirled around her. This was where most of her family had died and though she might not have liked them very much, there was a bond between them, something invisible, unbreakable, unwanted. Blood.

  She took a step onto the side porch that led to the kitchen.

  Mac grabbed her arm. “Tess, you can’t walk into someone’s home.”

  She shook him off and threw open the door. It wasn’t locked. Someone must live here… But who?

  She flicked on the light switch. “Anyone here?” she called out.

  No one answered.

  The kitchen was the same but different. New appliances, a warm terra-cotta color on the walls, refinished hardwood floors. A picture on the wall showed flowers rather than the old black and white western prints her mother had favored.

  “Tess,” Mac insisted. “We can’t be in here.”

  Memories assailed her. Broken glass. Bullets flying. The noise so loud she pressed her hands over her ears even at the memory. She stared at the pretty furnishings. The bullet holes in the walls had been fixed and it was obvious someone either lived here or the cabin was rented out to vacationers.

  Anger filled her.

  She pointed to a spot on the floor near where the old refrigerator had stood. “Walt died there.” She pointed to the spot beneath the kitchen sink. “Daddy. I remember him lying in a pool of blood.” She headed through the dining room to another side corridor where the bedrooms were.

  Tess pointed at the floor outside the room that had been hers. “That’s where Momma died.” Her mother’s eyes had been open. Her face strained and bitter even in death. “I’m pretty sure if the cops hadn’t shot her, I wouldn’t be alive today.”

  She stepped into the room as if she were stepping over a corpse and shuddered at the reminder. The bed had been replaced, a small dressing table tucked into one corner where before there had been only a hardback chair. She went to the closet and opened the door. Inside was a row of empty wire, coat hangers. She considered the small, cramped space and then turned to Mac, who was shadowing her every move with a worried expression on his face.

  She should put him out of his misery.

  “I hid in here with Bobby and Sampson.” Her throat was sore from the effort of suppressing emotion. “It looks so small now and yet for that entire night it was the only place in the world that felt safe.”

  Tears formed but she wouldn’t let them fall. The time for tears was over.

  Someone was using her family’s sick ideals to wage a new war and she refused to let them drag her down with them. Someone had restored this cabin when in her mind it had ceased to exist. She needed to know who it was, and why.

  She stepped up to the bedroom window and looked out at the view that had been hers for all those years. So much had changed, but not that. A field, some trees, the mountain behind them. She let out a pent-up breath, wishing for something she couldn’t name—maybe just normalcy. Just the sort of childhood you could look back on and miss.

  “I don’t even know what happened to my dog.” She hugged herself tightly. The cops had taken Sampson away and the people at social services had refused to tell her where. The more noise she’d made the more they’d stared down their pious noses at her.

  “I took him.”

  She turned in surprise. “What?”

  Mac shrugged and looked shame-faced. “I took him with me. I tried to get child services to let him go with you, but they told me they weren’t the pound and didn’t take pets. He was a great dog.” He shrugged. “I looked after him.”

  She inhaled through an open mouth and observed him through the reflections in the glass. “All these years I wondered about him. I worried.” She swallowed hard. “Something else to thank you for.”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “He lived another four years and died peacefully in his sleep. Never gave me a moment’s trouble, but whenever a truck pulled up outside the house his ears would perk up and he’d wag his tail so hard I was worried he was gonna fall over. I used to think he was waiting for his best pal to come get him to go play ball.”

  But she’d never come.

  Her throat was now so tight she could barely breathe. Her vision grew blurry. Still she didn’t let the tears fall. She’d adored that dog, and had missed him terribly, but at least he’d had a loving home.

  Unspoken messages passed between them and Tess felt connected to this man in a way she’d never experienced with anyone else. Maybe it was the fact he knew every secret she’d kept hidden all these years—things she’d never told anyone. Maybe it was the attraction that seemed more than skin deep. She didn’t trust him, but hell if she didn’t like him. A lot.

  They were so busy looking into one another’s eyes that she didn’t hear the creak of the floorboard until it was too late.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The cocking of a gun made Mac freeze for a split second before stepping in front of Tess.

  The man had a face full of wrinkles surrounding a red, bulbous nose, a grizzled jaw and a pair of small, beady eyes. The little hair that was left on his head was stringy and gray as the overcast sky.

  “You people can’t read? Sign says, No Trespassin’.”

  Mac slowly raised his hands and eyed the weapon—a Smith and Wesson revolver probably as old as the man holding it. Mac knew better than to declare his FBI status while someone held a gun on him in this part of the world. The old man might decide shooting him for trespassing was his chance at a free pass for getting rid of a Fed. Antigovernment sentiment ran deep in certain quarters of the States.

  “Easy there. We didn’t mean no harm.” Mac let his accent thicken.

  Tess planted her hands on her hips. “It would be hard to trespass on my own property now, wouldn’t it? You best put that gun away before you hurt someone.”
r />   Her brows rose imperiously and Mac had to work to keep his lower jaw from dropping.

  “I guess that’s something you forgot to mention, sweetheart,” he told her under his breath. That explained why she’d ignored his warnings earlier. Mac had never imagined Tess would have been able to hold on to the property. Her adoptive mother must have arranged it on her behalf. The question was, why?

  The old man squinted and let the barrel of the pistol drop. “Well, I’ll be darned. Francis and David’s little girl?”

  A chill worked its way down Mac’s spine. He hadn’t heard that tone used in reaction to the Hines family in nearly twenty years.

  He shot Tess a look and wished he could take her aside and tell her how to play this guy. He wanted to know more but the man wasn’t likely to talk to a Fed. But she didn’t need him to tell her anything. She’d grown up in an environment that revered her father, and punished those who didn’t follow the herd.

  “Theresa Jane.” She nodded and frowned as she held out her hand. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you…”

  “You wouldn’t. You were just a little girl the last time I saw you. Jessop. Henry Jessop.”

  “Ah…now I remember you. You’re the farmer who leases the land?”

  He nodded. “Keep hoping you’ll sell it to me…” He tucked the gun into a holster attached to his waist.

  Mac knew the man’s name. His ranch neighbored this one to the northwest. Jessop hadn’t appeared to be directly involved with the Pioneers’ plot to bring down the government, but David Hines had spent quite a lot of time there. Law enforcement had run Jessop through the system, but nothing suspicious had popped. The old guy had been considered a bit of a hard-ass to work for by the other cowboys who’d frequented the local bar. Mac doubted Jessop would remember a no-account cowpoke like Kenny Travers.

  “I’m waiting to talk to my brother before we decide whether or not to sell,” Tess told Jessop.

  Mac noticed she was careful not to mention which brother.

  She was gonna have to tell Bobby about his real parents soon, which she was obviously reluctant to do. Those tangled webs and all that. But what if someone else had already told him? What if her kid brother was busy avenging parents he didn’t even remember? Would Tess flip on him or become complicit in his guilt? Mac didn’t know. Hoped he didn’t have to find out.

  There’d been no real developments in the last few hours, but at least no one else had died. Labs were running evidence as fast as they could, and everyone was doing their damnedest to narrow down the killer, including him, even if this wasn’t the most traditional way to run a task force.

  The old man scratched his grizzled pate. “Eddie? Eddie doesn’t want to sell.”

  “Not Eddie.” Tess smiled coldly and the old man appeared startled for a moment. In that instant, she resembled her mother. “My baby brother, Bobby.”

  Eddie had forfeited his right to the property when he’d shot that cop.

  The old man squinted and nodded. “Of course. Bobby.”

  “I never gave permission for you to rent this place out.” Her tone was mild but Mac eased his hand toward his holster to unclip it just in case the old man got offended.

  Jessop had the grace to look ashamed. “I couldn’t stand by and watch the place fall apart. Thought it might be a good spot for Eddie to live once he got out of prison—assuming they ever let him out. There are serial killers who get less time than that,” he said bitterly. “I don’t make no money off the rental,” he assured her. “Just use the income to pay for upkeep and put the rest in a savings account for him so he can get by.”

  So Jessop was close enough to want to look out for Eddie Hines. What else might he be involved in? Mac wanted to find out.

  “I appreciate you thinking of Eddie, Mr. Jessop. I’m a little ashamed of the fact it’s taken me so long to return to Idaho, but the memories of that time were difficult to face.”

  Mac eyed her still swollen nose. If someone didn’t know better they might mistake the redness for cold. Her other bruises were hidden by a velvet blue and black scarf she’d wrapped around her neck. “I should have reached out to him years ago but I wasn’t able to do that safely. That’s why I’m here now. To see Eddie.”

  She wasn’t lying, and she was being vague enough to suit all their needs.

  He appreciated from his time living in this community that important things didn’t come up in the first conversation—bigotry, conspiracy, treason, these things usually took time.

  Jessop turned his attention to Mac and his eyes hardened. “And who might you be?”

  Mac made a split-second decision and held out his hand. He took a step forward shaking the other man’s heartily. “Mac Stevens. Theresa Jane did me the very great honor of agreeing to become my wife and you’re the first to know. We don’t even have a ring yet. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jessop.”

  The man didn’t look impressed by his impromptu proposal.

  “So, what are you people doing out this way?”

  “Driving to Boise from Salt Lake City,” Mac improvised. “Theresa Jane told me she had something to show me. I guess this was it.”

  Mac spotted a dark wad of chewing tobacco in the man’s mouth. He’d chewed it for a time too, to fit in with the other cowboys. The memory of bitter tobacco sat on his tongue like oil and he fought the urge to spit.

  “I wanted to see the place again,” Tess said quietly. “It seemed like the right time to come home.”

  “Can’t believe it’s been nearly twenty years already.” Jessop shook his head.

  Mac tensed.

  “Time doesn’t dull the memories,” said Tess.

  Mac wondered how many nightmares she’d had about the shootout over the years. He eyed the closet and saw a stray bullet hole about three feet off the ground. If Theresa Jane had been sitting up at the time of that shot, that bullet could have passed straight through her. It hit him all over again how lucky she’d been. It was pure chance she’d survived that night. He’d do well to remember that the next time she thanked him for saving her.

  “You were close to my parents?” she asked Jessop intently.

  The man backed out of the cramped bedroom. He was almost as tall as Mac, but had rounded shoulders and a paunch. Mac didn’t underestimate him though. Ranch work built muscles gyms had never heard of. He followed Jessop into the kitchen, Tess trailing him.

  “They were fine people. Wonderful neighbors.”

  As long as you were white and straight and bigoted, Mac thought, bile rising in his throat.

  Tess smiled sympathetically, rubbing her tattoo like it had started to itch. She did that when she was nervous. “I guess I should have called ahead and told you we were coming. I just didn’t expect to find the cabin still standing, let alone still being used. It shocked me.”

  “Most people avoid the place.” Jessop leaned against the sink.

  Mac remembered Tess standing in that same spot doing dishes, the day of the raid.

  “Some say it’s haunted.”

  Considering the hairs that had raised on Mac’s nape when they’d walked through the door he could believe it. And if anyone would turn into a ghoul, it’d be Francis Hines.

  Tess checked her watch and frowned. “As much as I’d like to talk, we need to be going.”

  “Why don’t you come to the ranch house for supper before you go on your way?” Jessop offered abruptly.

  Tess started to shake her head, but Mac cut in eagerly, “I could eat.”

  Her eyes flicked over him. “I didn’t think we had time.”

  He checked his own watch and on cue his stomach grumbled. Chances were they’d miss the eight o’clock flight if they stayed, but there was another flight after that. It might be worth the detour, to see what this guy had to say.

  Jessop waved aside Tess’s concern. “There’s stew on the hob and bread in the oven. It would be faster than stopping at a restaurant and a man has to eat.” His jovial concern for Mac’s welfare put Ma
c on edge. He didn’t trust the guy.

  “You sure that’s no trouble?” Tess asked again.

  The reluctance was obvious in her tone.

  Jessop’s beady eyes got narrower. “I have a few things you may want to have. Belongings of your parents…”

  And Mac was absolutely all-in.

  Could this guy know something relevant to his current investigation? Could he be involved? Tess met his gaze. She looked uncertain and he knew it was wrong but he did it anyway.

  “My fiancée and I would be honored to join you for dinner, Mr. Jessop.”

  Tess shot him a dirty look, but the old timer didn’t pay her any mind. Her man had spoken and that’s all that mattered around here. As they followed Jessop outside, Mac rested his hand low on her back. She stiffened but didn’t pull away.

  “Should we follow you?” Mac suggested. He wasn’t supposed to know where Jessop lived.

  “We can cut across the ranch. I’ll unlock the gate.” Jessop nodded and walked to an old beat up truck that had probably been going since before Tess had been born. The truck had a snow plow attached to the front. Mac ignored the frigid moisture seeping into his shoes and followed the now silent woman down the driveway.

  “Thank you for going along with me back there,” he said to her stiff back.

  A cloud of vapor erupted as she exhaled. “I didn’t have much choice.” She wrapped her arms tight across her chest and whispered. “You think this guy might be involved in the murders?”

  Mac took her elbow as they negotiated a drift. “Makes sense that any plan to avenge your parents’ deaths or carry out their agenda might originate from a former Pioneer or someone close to them. Jessop came up on the radar, but was never at any meetings and had no link to the stolen weapons we were tracking, that we knew about anyhow. If he’s not involved, he could still have vital information about someone who is.”

  He opened the passenger door and helped Tess into her seat. He tried to ignore how soft she felt beneath his hands. How easy and natural it felt to be in her company.

  She sat and her eyes searched his face nervously. “If he figures out you’re a Fed we’re in deep trouble.”