Pursuit of Justice

by DiAnn Mills

  Returning to this part of the country could very well have been a mistake. The dry and barren land filled her with an intense fear, while an ache deep inside matched the wasteland surrounding the High Butte. She wanted to run from all it represented. But not this time, not with the prospect of ending what should have been finished years ago.

  Bella considered herself a woman of logic and rationale, and still she had a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that Brandt had orchestrated the three deaths and the threats on her life. Even worse, she knew he wasn’t finished. Although she sensed she might not be strong or clever enough to outthink his next move, she’d chosen to face him and bring the past to the present before one more person died.

  For a few moments she let her mind wander back to her three younger half brothers and a half sister and calculated their current ages. The oldest brother would be eighteen, then seventeen, sixteen, and her sister would be fourteen. They’d been sweet babies, often turning to her instead of their mother. She couldn’t fault Mair too much because the woman had a tremendous burden in being married to Bella’s father. All of them had gone hungry. Given the same situation, she might have reacted with some of the same apathy. Had those kids escaped the craziness of their parents, or were they walking the same road? Aunt Debbie said the time would come when she’d need to find her siblings and make peace with them. Even with her father.

  The gate to the High Butte was open, a good omen as far as Bella was concerned. As she pulled the car to a halt beside Sheriff Adams’s vehicle, gravel crunched beneath her tires. No one was in sight. She grabbed her shoulder bag and strode to the back door, where she figured Carr and Darren would be having coffee.

  She took one quick, longing gaze at the pool, the early morning sun sparkling off its blue waters like a million twinkling diamonds. The door opened, and the sound of conversation reminded her of the murders and why she’d driven to the High Butte.

  “Good morning, Agent Jordan.” Lydia’s wide smile could charm the moon. “Come on in and join us for breakfast.”

  “Call me Bella. Remember?” The scent of bacon and eggs and a waft of maple syrup tempted her. She hadn’t run this morning. Been in too much of a hurry to get there. “When this is over, I’m making reservations here.” What was she thinking? These people weren’t friends. They were murder suspects. Then again, she needed to secure their trust.

  “You’d be welcome.” Lydia’s silver and black hair was tied back in an elegant bun at the base of her neck. Long red and silver earrings and a turquoise blouse trimmed in red over dark blue jeans did make her look like she was welcoming guests at a resort.

  Bella greeted Carr and Darren while pouring herself coffee. She really wanted some scrambled eggs and one, only one, piece of bacon. What was it about bacon and chocolate when it came to women? She gave in when Lydia handed her a plate. Once she lowered herself into one of the wooden chairs, she refocused on her job. “Vic will be here later on this morning. How long have you been here?” She aimed her question at the sheriff.

  “About twenty minutes. Wanted an early start. How was your evening?”

  Bella lifted a brow and poked a mouthful of eggs into her mouth. The sheriff might already know.

  “Hope you got a good night’s rest.” With the dark circles beneath his eyes, Carr looked like he should go back to bed.

  “Not exactly.” Bella stirred honey into her coffee mug and lifted it to her lips. “Someone put a rattler in my bed.” Before either of the men could respond, she continued with her story. “However, I did get a free night at the hotel, which will help the looks of my expense report at the FBI.”

  “How ever did you crawl into bed after that?” Lydia’s face had grown ashen.

  Bella laughed. The woman’s question reminded her of how she’d felt. “I changed rooms, and the manager sent a worker to help me tear everything apart—twice.”

  Carr leaned on one elbow. “Do you have any idea who did it?”

  Bella bit into the bacon. With questions and details about the case swirling in her mind, her food no longer had appeal. “Obviously I’m being warned to leave this case alone.”

  “And?” Carr said.

  “No way.” Bella gave Sheriff Adams a curious look. He hadn’t said a word, and his face appeared intent on her account of the previous night. His pale face was a sharp contrast to the man she met yesterday. “Is there something I should know?”

  “I want to think about a few of the things we uncovered yesterday. In short, this investigation concerns me as to where it leads.”

  “We’re all concerned.” Carr scooted out from behind the table and helped himself to another cup of coffee. “What’s going on, Darren?”

  “In my opinion, more than one man is involved. I think it’s a team of players, and last night at Bella’s hotel proved it.”

  That’s when she noted Darren hadn’t touched his food. Sweat dripped down his temples, and his pale face indicated something was going on. “Are you sick, sir?”

  Darren offered a tight-lipped smile. “I’m trying to talk myself out of it.” He shook his head as though mentally chasing away whatever had attacked his system. “There’s more to this than treasure hunters who are out to find the cache of gold. These are murderers who are well organized and out to derail our investigation.”

  “I agree we’re not looking for just one man,” Bella said. “But what brought you to the same conclusion?”

  “Strange occurrences. Give me some time to mull it over.” He pointed at Bella. “Be careful. Third time’s a charm, and I don’t want to be informing the FBI that one of their agents is out of the game permanently.”

  Bella appreciated his concern, but—“I’m a trained professional. I can take care of myself.”

  “Figured you’d respond like this was nothing.” Darren moistened his lips. “I have the report on the bullet dug out of your car’s tire: .223 Remington ammunition. The same make of bullets pumped into our victims.”

  “Like the ones from my stolen rifle,” Carr added.

  “You’re right. It may be your gun, but you didn’t fire it yesterday morning.” Darren hesitated and drew in a deep breath. Sweat continued to bead his face.

  Carr’s brows narrowed. “You look horrible.”

  “Thanks. You don’t look like fashion runway material yourself. Truth is, I have a nasty stomachache, and it’s gotten steadily worse. Think I have a fever too.”

  Lydia walked across the kitchen and touched his forehead. “You’re on fire, Sheriff. You need to be in bed.”

  He attempted to stiffen but failed miserably. “There’s too much work to be done here for me to take off.”

  “Delegate it. And what your deputies can’t do will have to wait.” Lydia picked up the phone. “Do I call your wife, or are you going home?”

  Darren slowly rose from the table and made his way to the back door and outside.

  “Men.” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. “Stubborn as mules. He’ll be out there for a while.”

  “I’ll take him home when he’s ready.” Carr carried his plate to the sink. “He doesn’t look like he’s in any shape to drive.” He glanced at Lydia and Bella. “Either of you feel sick?”

  “Not me,” Bella said.

  “Or me,” Lydia said. “He needs to be in bed.”

  Carr turned on the water. “I’ll take him a washcloth and a glass of water.”

  Bella let his words sink in. Carr pulled a cloth from a kitchen drawer, held it beneath the faucet, and wrung it out. He filled a glass with water and walked outside. Carr Sullivan was either a clever liar, pretending to care about Darren Adams, or he was genuine. She’d like to think the latter. “I’d better get to work.”

  Bella kept checking on Darren. But he repeatedly vomited until Carr finally convinced him he should be at home.

  “I can take him,” Bella said. “The deputies are busy, and I need to stop at the sheriff’s department afterward.”

  “No way,” Darre
n managed. “Carr, you take me. I don’t need a woman to nurse me. One of the other deputies can drive my car back to the station later.”

  Bella asked Lydia a few questions and then found Jasper in the stables. Their stories matched what Darren and Vic had reported. In the beginning she wanted to believe the two were covering for Carr, but her instincts, including all of her training, sensed they were innocent. Yet she’d proceed with caution. Trust had to be earned, not handed out like candy. Candy . . . Bella made a mental note to check into Jasper’s alleged diabetic status. While sitting on the front porch swing, her new office, she wrestled with what she knew about the crime and the possibilities.

  The victims’ wives and Kegley’s fiancée termed the men’s interest in the Spider Rock treasure as a hobby, an obsession, and a diversion from the mundane—in that order. The women knew of no danger and were equally shocked and upset, including Walt Higgins’s ex-wife. Bella needed to talk to them one-on-one and question them further. Once the funerals were over, they might remember important information. Bella wanted to ask them about Brandt Richardson. He changed his identities like women changed lipstick, but the man had a raspy voice that could not be masked.

  Midmorning, Vic arrived and found her on the front porch. She relayed her evening and the newest findings.

  “Who do you think is after you?” Vic leaned against the porch railing.

  “You mean your bed didn’t have a guest?”

  “I’m not as lucky. My theory is still that Sullivan and someone else are working together. Possibly Richardson.” He shrugged. “Whoever our killer is doesn’t care for women. Or maybe he doesn’t like women FBI agents.”

  Or maybe an old vendetta is still alive. “How do you feel about a day trip to Waco and Austin to interview the families again? I have a few more questions.”

  “Sure. Right now, I want to inspect the crime scene. I want to find out who did the fingerprint sweep.” He glanced around. “Where’s the sheriff?”

  “He got sick shortly after I arrived. Carr took him home.”

  Vic frowned. “You let our suspect drive a sick sheriff home? Smart move for the lead agent. Did you hand him a few thousand for expenses?”

  His sarcasm miffed her, but maybe she did need her brains jarred loose. “If Carr doesn’t return, then we have our answer.”

  “You think he’s innocent.”

  “The jury’s still out.” She tilted her head. “But it’s leaning farther away from him.”

  “Don’t let his charm fool you.” He started to say something else, but he must have changed his mind.

  Bella studied the man before her. Granted his over twenty years of experience meant she should listen to him, but what she should have done and what she sensed was the truth didn’t match.

  “When you’re ready, let’s take a drive to Ballinger and see if some of our reports are in,” Vic said.

  “I want to talk to the county coroner.”

  He nodded and left. Special Agent Vic Anderson didn’t care for her, but it wasn’t the first time a male agent disrespected a female agent. Maybe he was right. The investigation was going nowhere. She’d had more productive cases in Houston, where the criminal made stupid mistakes or a witness came forth with the truth.

  The sound of robins and a lark piqued her attention. A mourning dove moaned its lonesome song, and she thought how very much it mimicked her life. The lark crooned again. Before her mother died, she used to tell Bella the lark sang “pretty, pretty.” Warm remembrances swept over her of sea green eyes peering into a little girl’s face while gentle hands stroked her hair. A lump formed in Bella’s throat, and she thought she’d gone far beyond a child’s grief. The lark sang out its tune again. It had to be the birds . . . and this part of Texas . . . and thoughts of her family.

  The screen door opened, but not with the creak she remembered from the rickety farmhouse of her youth. Lydia stepped out with a cell phone in her hand. Her lips quivered, and tears pooled in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Bella said as a hundred sketches of more tragedies beset her.

  “It’s Carr. He wants to talk to you.” With a trembling hand, Lydia held out the phone.

  Bella held it to her ear, her attention focused on the woman. “This is Bella.”

  “I’m at Ballinger Memorial Hospital.”

  “With Sheriff Adams?”

  “I’m afraid so. He’s dead.”

  Chapter 9

  Brandt Richardson toyed with a pen on his desk, the anticipation of treasure swelling his mind while frustration with the lack of progress filled his belly, like chasing a shot with a beer. He’d make the call in a few minutes. Some things were worth the sweat, especially those things that propelled his search. Another glance at the clock on his computer showed 2:56.

  Good things come to those who wait.

  He had the satellite imagery and topography of the area memorized. At three o’clock he walked outside and drove six blocks to a convenience store. After purchasing a Dr Pepper and getting change for the pay phone, he ambled outside and flipped the top on the can. No police cars. Good. Neither did any people loiter around the phone.

  A pickup slid in front of the store. He glanced away and took a long drink of the Dr Pepper while the woman and child exited the truck and made their way inside.

  “Handsome boy you have there,” Brandt said.

  “Thank you,” the woman said.

  He turned and slipped coins into the phone.

  “I’m here,” the man answered.

  “Good. Did you take care of the little matter we discussed?”

  “It’s handled.”

  Ah, good news. “We’re going to be very rich men, but it has to happen according to the plan,” Brandt said. “Any screwups, and we’ve lost it all.”

  “I understand. The plan’s working. Our man’s about to be charged with four counts of murder.”

  “Maybe more.” Brandt took another long drink. “Where’s the map?”

  “In a safe-deposit box at First National Bank of Ballinger.”

  “Did you make a copy for me?”

  “It’s there too.”

  “What about getting access to his land?”

  “I’m working on it. Sullivan won’t have much of a choice with this one.” He laughed.

  “I’ll be at our normal meeting place at six thirty. Bring the map, and I want to hear more about how we’re going to dig. I’m not against getting rid of him, Lydia, and Jasper. But we have to wait until the sheriff’s department and the FBI clear out.”

  “Can’t make the meeting. I have a six o’clock appointment.”

  Stupid fool. “This is more important than your golf game. You can buy your own course when we’re finished.” He disconnected the phone and crumpled the empty can in his hand. Tossing it into the trash, where flies buzzed around the garbage, he nodded at a tattooed kid who walked his way.

  “Finished with the phone?” the kid said, his eyes glazed over like doughnuts.

  “All yours.” With that, Brandt walked back to the temporary junk heap he used for errands. The next item on his agenda had him driving south of town to another convenience store.

  He would not lose this time. Six men knew the plan; four of them were dead.

  Chapter 10

  Bella handed the phone back to Lydia. News of Darren’s death had jolted her and left her numb. Judging by the pale look on Lydia’s face, the woman felt the same shock.

  Bella glanced down at her notes. “I had a list of questions for Darren.” Was it only yesterday he’d asked her to call him by his first name? She whipped her attention back to Lydia standing before her. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “How . . . how does a man die from flu that quickly?” Lydia slumped into the swing next to Bella.

  Unless it wasn’t flu. “I’m sure there’s a good medical reason.”

  “He and Carr have been good friends for five years, and I’ve never known him to be sick.” Lydia’s words sounded
flat. “Tiffany must be paralyzed with grief. They have three boys—the oldest will be a senior in high school.”

  “Are you going to her?”

  “I can do no less. She has a large family, and the church will rally to her and the children’s side. But I can’t stay here when I can be doing something. But first I must tell Jasper.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Bella stood and reached for her shoulder bag stuffed between her and Lydia. The bag slipped between her fingers, its contents spilling out like a sacrifice to a man who had given his all to the community. Daredevil Adams. What a legacy. She stuffed her keys, phone, recorder, and makeup bag back inside along with her standard gear. However, the gathering helped her gain control from the devastating news. She offered a slight smile. “I’ll tell the deputies before I leave.”

  “Thank you. Make sure Wesley at the crime scene is told. He’s Sheriff Adams’s nephew. They’re close.”

  “I will. Do you need some help?” Bella started to reach out for her, but they weren’t friends. Not when Bella looked to charge Carr with murder. Lydia grieved for a real friend, and with her sorrow came the turmoil of the past few days.

  Lydia shook her head. “I need to be busy with my hands.”

  After Lydia disappeared into the house, Bella hoisted her shoulder bag and approached the two deputies in the barn. They’d soon be finished going through all the contents of the outbuildings and stables.

  “Hey, fellas. Got a minute?”

  “Sure,” said Deputy Roano, the man who had driven her and Vic to retrieve her car.

  She glanced at the two men, regretting what she had to say. “I have some bad news. Carr just called and said Sheriff Adams died.”