Pursuit of Justice

by DiAnn Mills

  Late afternoon, she received a call stating the fingerprints on Carr’s rifle were his and Jasper’s. Vic’s warning from Saturday evening swept over her like a hot, dry south wind.

  Tuesday morning, she received an e-mail with the autopsy results, which revealed Adams had been killed by a recently developed poison called thanatoxin. Her mind spun with what these new findings meant. Darren had been murdered. He’d been onto something the morning of his death. Had he shared any of it with Carr or his deputies?

  She immediately phoned Sheriff Roano, who was reading the autopsy report while she spoke with him. His offensive language charged Carr with a fourth murder.

  “I suggest sending a team of deputies to sweep his house for traces of the poison,” she said.

  “I’m on it. Are you heading there too?”

  “You bet. I have a few e-mails and calls to make here at the hotel, and then I’m on my way.”

  “Good. I’m not going to allow Sullivan to walk away from these murders.”

  Bella drove to the High Butte to question Carr. On the way, she phoned Swartzer with the latest development and asked for information about thanatoxin. Once the call ended, her mind wandered.

  Carr had a rugged gentleness about him, certainly something he had acquired since moving from Dallas to his ranch. Her mind lifted and bent, twisted and turned, like a poem that had no ending. A truth about herself and how she felt about Carr took form, and the realization hammered at her heart, as though she’d been tricked into taking the wrong fork in a road. How had he begun to stir her heart? The part of her she kept hidden, protected. Even from herself.

  She took a deep breath and remembered the sage advice of the only person she trusted. “Emotions are like scorpions,” Aunt Debbie always said. “If you ignore them, they will sting you when you least expect it. They won’t kill you, but there are times you wish they would.”

  Insight surfaced like acid churning in Bella’s stomach. She had broken one of the first rules of good investigative work. A prime suspect had gotten under her skin—and in the worst of ways. She actually liked him, respected him, valued his input, not to mention his incredible eyes. But Carr Sullivan kept sticking his nose into her assignment. Wanted to be a partner of sorts. Always had an opinion.

  Great. The very things she liked about him, she also detested.

  Perhaps she should resign from the case because her objectivity had evaporated. In Bella’s opinion, she jeopardized the assignment by having feelings for Carr. She’d never allowed a man to affect her this way, not even Frank. Her heart had betrayed her when she least expected it, just like Aunt Debbie had warned.

  Her thoughts moved on to her father and stepmother. For a lot of years, Bella had blamed her father for what happened, and rightfully so. Yet Mair could have stopped the whole thing with one word. Instead, the woman silently condoned the fate of a fifteen-year-old girl. How could Bella consider herself any better than Mair when she had ignored the welfare of her brothers and sister? She’d tossed them aside like a woman who stuffs out-of-date clothing into a donation bag. Why hadn’t she searched deeper for their whereabouts? She owed her siblings an opportunity to better themselves. More importantly, she owed them love.

  The report about her father hadn’t arrived, and she needed it—desperately.

  At the High Butte, Sheriff Roano and his deputies swarmed the house. Bella found Carr in the privacy of his library, reading his Bible and drinking coffee from a mug with the word Faith printed on it. She watched him from the doorway, his face intent on whatever Scripture had captured his attention. Aunt Debbie used to have the same look on her face when she read her Bible.

  “Good morning,” she finally said.

  He lifted his gaze. New lines had been added to his face. “I figured you’d be here sometime this morning.”

  “I should have called.” She pointed to his Bible. “I can wait till you’re finished. But we need to talk about what’s going on downstairs.”

  “That’s why I’m here looking for strength and wisdom.” He studied her face. “Darren was poisoned.”

  She nodded. “The substance is called thanatoxin—only recently discovered by the CIA—and has its origin in the mountains of Peru. The poison kills its victims within a few hours. No known antidote.”

  He gestured for her to sit down. “Roano claims he’ll have the evidence to charge me by midafternoon.”

  Will he? Roano had an issue with stubbornness, but his tenacity might reveal incriminating information. “He questioned you?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I’m sure he wanted to use waterboarding. I’ve been reading from Proverbs 6 about what God detests in a man. One of them is pride, and I know I have a tendency to be prideful. So if you have more news, I’ll do my best to handle it with my faith intact.”

  “Like the words on your cup?”

  His shoulders lifted and fell. “Yeah. Guess God directed my hand when I reached into the cabinet this morning.”

  “The fingerprints on the candy wrapper were Darren’s. He must have walked out farther than the other deputies.”

  “I don’t recall ever seeing him eat a candy bar. I sure had hoped the prints would lead to the killer.”

  “We all did.” She took a deep breath. Talking to Carr was awkward after her own revelation of friendship—not that it went beyond that. She had no business acknowledging feelings for him of any sort. Her dealings were to be professional only. Devastating emotions had slipped in on the sly, and she dared not reveal any of them.

  Carr rose from his desk and walked to the window, where gray clouds hinted of rain. He jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. “Tell me more about the poison.”

  “It’s a powder—colorless, odorless, and tasteless.”

  He turned, and his eyes emitted sadness with the weight of the news. “You know I was on a mission trip a year ago in Brazil. Does that make me more of a suspect?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Praise God,” he whispered.

  Bella took a deep breath. “Brandt spent time there. What if you were set up . . . and Lydia too, since she cooked for Darren that morning?”

  Carr covered his face. “There’s not a sweeter, more godly woman on the planet. Can this get worse?”

  “Sure it can.” For a moment, she thought he might break down. Odd, for she’d never seen a man grieve openly.

  “Darren didn’t deserve to die like a tormented animal. And I don’t think it was an accident. What’s your professional take on this?”

  She studied him, looking for telltale signs of guilt. “I haven’t seen enough to make a qualified decision.”

  “Do you think he was poisoned because he got too close to the killer?”

  She moistened her lips. “Absolutely.” She stretched her neck muscles, longing for a few hours’ sleep to get her mind and body in gear. “Someone who had the ability to obtain the poison and then administer it unbeknownst to him.”

  “As in a friend?”

  Bella shrugged. She allowed the silence between them to settle. Both needed time to ponder the implication of someone close to Darren ending his life. “How well did you know him? I saw the crowd of people at the hospital and at the memorial service. The newspaper bannered him a model citizen, a hero in the community who died in the line of duty. I heard the nickname ‘Daredevil Adams’ and the stories. His pastor read line after line of the people he’d affected with his countless good deeds.”

  “You’re wondering if he lived a double life.”

  “Did he?” Tell me more, Carr.

  “He was not the kind of man to be involved with murder or any kind of a ridiculous treasure hunt.”

  “Did he say anything to you the morning of his death?”

  “In fact, he did, except I wondered at the time if his comment was about his sickness or the case. He said, ‘This is bad. Worse than what you could imagine.’”

  “What was said prior to that?”

  “Oh, he was comp
laining about not being able to work on the investigation, and I responded it would still be there or something like that.”

  Darren was onto the truth. He must have discovered who was behind the killings, and he’d died for it. She stood and walked to the window beside Carr, taking careful measure of the steadily graying sky and the distance between them. “Did he say anything else?”

  “Nothing. But whatever he learned upset him. I could tell by the look on his face.” He shrugged. “But he was dying in front of me too.”

  “Did he get along with all of his deputies?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Were he and his wife getting along okay?”

  “Yeah. They always held hands, kissing. Loved each other and in love. Once a week they had a date night or breakfast, whatever they could fit in.”

  Later on she’d talk to Tiffany Adams to see if she could find a chink in their marriage or if Adams might have discussed information about the murder case with his wife. Could be another link . . . or a wild card.

  “I’ve holed up here long enough. Lydia was devastated with the news, and I need to be with her. Really selfish of me when she’s downstairs.”

  “I like her.” And she knows the truth about me.

  An hour later, Bella drove to the Adams home. From Tiffany’s reddened eyes, it was obvious she was not doing well. The news about the poisoning deepened her private abyss.

  “Poisoned? It doesn’t make sense.” A tear slipped from her eye. “I’m afraid the coroner won’t release his body for burial.”

  “I have no idea, but I’m sure it won’t be too much longer.”

  “Who despised him enough to kill him?” Tiffany said.

  “A good question. We’re working on it, and that’s another reason why I’m here. Just like you, I want to find out where he was poisoned. Did he mention having problems with someone recently released from jail or another deputy?”

  “Not at all. Everyone respected Darren.”

  Someone didn’t. “Did he have breakfast that morning?”

  Tiffany dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. “No. Lydia had invited him to eat with her and Carr.” She gasped. “Do you think Carr or Lydia is responsible for this?”

  Bella smiled and took her hand. “I don’t think so. The sheriff’s department was at the High Butte when I left, and they hadn’t found a thing to connect Carr or Lydia. What time did he leave for their house?”

  “Six o’clock. I remember because I’d glanced at the kitchen clock and realized I needed to get the boys up for their summer jobs.”

  “And it takes about thirty minutes?”

  “Twenty-three minutes. I know for sure because Darren had clocked it. He and Carr often did things together.”

  “Did he have any stops to make along the way?”

  “Oh no. He wanted to be there before you that morning and talk to Carr about the murders.” The moment Tiffany spoke her last word, tears trickled over her cheeks. Bella squeezed the woman’s hand while her own thoughts raced.

  “Are you sure? Because Lydia said he didn’t arrive until 6:35. She remembered distinctly because the timer for her biscuits rang the moment he knocked on the back door.”

  Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Where did he go during the extra minutes?”

  “The sheriff’s office maybe?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Tiffany, I’m headed there now, and I’ll check to see if he made any calls.”

  “Would you call me when you’re finished?”

  “Sure.”

  Tiffany stood with Bella. Hope leaped across her face. “Someone could have poisoned him during those extra minutes. I hope you’re able to find out who did this to my Darren. I’m going to be praying for that very thing.”

  “I’m doing my best, and so are all the others working on this investigation.”

  Tiffany glanced toward the kitchen, where one of the boys was opening the refrigerator. No doubt listening to every word. “You think the men found dead on Carr’s ranch are linked to Darren’s death too.”

  “Possibly.”

  “I’ll talk to my boys, see if they have any idea where their dad could have gone. This may have a simple explanation. Plus, it will give me something to do—to stop my mind from thinking about it.”

  Bella remembered a murder case in which a woman recorded her thoughts about a deceased parent. When she shared the contents with Bella, the murderer was found. “Do you journal?”

  “Why, yes. I do. It’s a part of my quiet time with God.”

  “Are you writing down your thoughts and memories about Darren?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’d like to see it if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, especially if it helps find who did this to him.” Tiffany stumbled over her words, then committed to help in any way she could. “I’ll go get my journal now.”

  Bella drove into Ballinger and snatched up her phone as soon as she had coverage. She called the FIG in Houston. “Hey, Pete. I’d like a complete workup on Sheriff Darren Adams.”

  “I’ll get on it. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Transfer me to Swartzer’s office.” She waited until he answered.

  “Any closer to a solution?” Swartzer said.

  “Maybe. There’s a few minutes’ time lapse from when Sheriff Adams left home to when he arrived at the High Butte. His wife has no idea where he might have stopped, but his kids may know.”

  “What about his habits?”

  “He looks squeaky-clean, but a few things raise a flare.”

  “Like what?”

  “Very nice house and his wife doesn’t work. She drives a new Toyota hybrid SUV, and they have three teenage boys, stair steps in age; one’s going off to college in another year. I’d like to see Adams’s bank records and a list of cases he’s worked on. His wife told me they’ve been married twenty-two years. She used to teach school until the kids came along. There could very well be a legitimate reason for how they live, but the doubts are still there. I’ve asked Pete for a complete workup.”

  “Keep me informed. I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

  Bella had wanted to toss around a few other thoughts, but she could talk to him later. “One quick question. Who interviewed the families of the murder victims?”

  “An agent out of Dallas. In fact, your partner, Vic Anderson.”

  Why hadn’t Vic told her about the interviews? “I’m going to talk to them again. Something is missing, and I think it’s there.” She changed lanes, leaving a late-model truck far behind in her rearview mirror. “Another thing: I learned that Richardson caused a divorce about twelve years ago, and the husband threatened to kill him. Hadn’t seen that in our report before. It’s worth a follow-up. Richardson’s appearance on the fugitive list happened about ten years ago. I’m wondering if the husband is dead or if he’s available for me to talk to.”

  “I’ll get back to you once you receive your reports. I think the candy wrapper prints are insignificant unless something comes up in Adams’s background. It will take a while to trace the boots from Walmart.”

  Bella started to protest, but she’d wait. “I have a few loose ends here; then I’ll drive to Waco and Austin to talk to those families. Probably Friday.”

  “Bella, slow down. Your mind is moving faster than I can keep track of. Is Agent Anderson going with you?”

  She wanted to mention Vic’s absence, but she’d let this week coast by first. “I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s involved in other things.”

  “Don’t go alone. Not safe and you know it. One more thing,” Swartzer said. “Richardson could have easily obtained the thanatoxin. I have my doubts Sullivan killed the sheriff.”

  “Me too.” Relief flooded her that she’d not allowed her feelings for Carr to override her investigation. “The evidence tells me he’s being used as a scapegoat.”

  “Looks that way. But it could be part of his tactic,
especially if he’s working with Richardson.”

  Bella remembered the conversation this morning with Carr. The conversation had been laced with sincerity, and she doubted he was lying. She had puzzle pieces, and she knew Brandt was part of it, but none of them fit together—yet.

  * * *

  When the afternoon sun slipped behind storm clouds and the sheriff’s department and county poison control had finally left the High Butte, Carr stepped outside in hopes that physical work would help relieve the stress of the day. Lydia had opted for a nap, but he was too restless.

  The whys and whos of the week stalked him day and night. He had no answers and the web—yes, the Spider Rock web—continued to entangle him. Brandt Richardson, the fugitive who had drawn the FBI into this case, had to be in the center of it all. Darren. Had his friend and accountability partner stumbled onto clues that convinced the killer to poison him? Or was his death something isolated from the case? The memory of how the fast-acting properties of the poison caused Darren to suffer made Carr physically sick. How was he poisoned? Carr blew out a sigh and a prayer at the same time.

  Poor Lydia had faced the shame and mortification of having her kitchen turned upside down by the county officials and deputies looking for the poison or the ingredients to it. He’d stayed right there with her until they finished tearing through all the cabinets, refrigerator, freezer, pantry, and yes, the trash again. They found nothing but took a number of pantry items and unmarked containers from the barn and stable.

  Carr recognized his fury—the senseless killings, the grieving families, the loss of a dear friend, his name along with Lydia’s and Jasper’s splattered with blood, and the female FBI agent who acted like he was innocent one minute and guilty the next. However, Vic Anderson was convinced of his involvement, so maybe having Bella partially on his side had kept him from being formally charged.