by DiAnn Mills
Carr leaned over the bed. The thought of touching his face entered her mind. The medication had definitely affected her mind. “This is Sunday,” he said.
“I . . . I kept fading in and out.”
He smiled, and she caught a light of something she’d suspected before. “You’ve been real popular. Look at the flowers.” He stepped aside.
Pleasure turned the corners of her lips upward. Four vases of fresh flowers and a green plant sat on the windowsill and table. “Just what a girl needs when she’s been shot.”
“In the future, tell me what flowers you want, and I’ll send them without the bullets.” Frank chuckled.
“Very funny.” She closed her eyes and dug her fingernails into her palms. Should she ask for pain medication in front of them? “Who . . . who are they from?”
“I’ll read the cards. Then we’re leaving,” Carr said. “You need rest.”
“Start with the red roses and baby’s breath,” she whispered, not wanting to admit he was right.
“Oh, that one is from a rancher who thinks you’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Carr. But it wasn’t necessary.”
“Is it against FBI rules for a former suspect to send the special agent roses?”
She shook her head. “Especially not when he took a bullet too.”
Silence hung like the calm before a twister. No doubt Frank didn’t appreciate the flirting between her and Carr.
Picking up another card, Carr began to read. “This pink and yellow one is from the FBI.”
“Wonderful. Frank . . . please let the office know I appreciate these.”
“Of course. Anything you want.”
Frank’s sweetness would have sugared a lemon tree.
“The plant with fresh flowers is from your aunt Debbie. She called earlier and will call back this evening.”
“That’ll be nice.” If Bella didn’t choose her words carefully, Aunt Debbie would be on the next plane to Abilene.
“This arrangement is from . . . Hmm.” Carr frowned and turned the card over. “It doesn’t have a signature, and it’s addressed to Rachel Bella.”
Her breath caught in her chest. “I want the florist contacted to see who placed the order.”
Frank agreed to the task, and she didn’t interrupt.
“The last one is from . . .” Carr glanced away.
“Who?” Her heart still pounded from who had sent her the previous bouquet.
“The card says ‘Dad.’”
Chapter 29
Control came second-nature to Brandt. At least he thought so until he began conducting business with a power-hungry man by the name of Aros Kemptor. What began as a recommendation from an unsuspecting Spider Rock enthusiast had grown to parasite proportions. Brandt needed the attorney’s expertise, but the man was an employee, not a decision maker. Soon the man’s usefulness would expire, like the other men and women who grew beyond their value.
Brandt had the exact location of the treasure. All he needed was a way to get to it, which required time and patience. He swallowed his growing anger and pressed in Aros’s phone number.
“You don’t call the shots in this operation.”
Aros chuckled, a nervous rattle that didn’t impress Brandt. “Got to admit, it was a smart move.”
“How do you figure?”
“I used the same make of rifle used to kill our friends and shoot out the tires on Bella’s car.”
“If and when I decide it’s necessary to eliminate her, the killing would be blamed on Sullivan.”
“Take it easy.”
“Who is sending you money?”
“You forget I’m taking a lot of heat here—convincing others of Sullivan’s guilt and putting myself on the line to make sure others are warned and eliminated. Any slipups and you don’t have the gold.”
And neither did Aros. He also didn’t have the exact location and the numbers of all the people working for him. “Better men than you have ended up dead because they thought they had all the answers.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Do I need to?”
“You can’t get to the gold on Sullivan’s ranch until I finish what I started.”
And that was where Aros believed he had Brandt cornered. Let him get overconfident. His attitude would play well into Brandt’s hands. “When will you have the information I need?”
“Soon. After all, his lady friend—”
“What do you mean, ‘lady friend’?”
“Just a phrase. Take it easy. Anyway the agent was nearly killed, and Sullivan was shot. That should convince him to think seriously about his future—or his lack of one. Even if Bella had been killed, he would have been upset enough to possibly leave the area and put his land up for sale.”
Brandt had to admit that sometimes Aros’s thinking had a few clever storage units. But only if the agent shot hadn’t been his Rachel.
“Remember, Brandt, without my skills to gain access to the High Butte, you have nothing.”
The next time he used Brandt’s name, his number would expire. “As long as you remember I have more resources than you could ever imagine. Cross me again like you did with the shooting, and your bones will be bleaching in the sun.”
Aros chuckled. “I’ve protected myself through all of this. Trust me on this one.”
Chapter 30
Carr heard the lunch carts squeak and groan down the hospital corridor. Kent had left to attend a youth function, and he promised to call later to make sure Bella was continuing to improve. Carr refused to leave her side. While she slept, he watched her, allowing every moment he spent in her company to soothe him. In the ambulance, he’d nearly lost her. Nearly lost her. When had his thoughts turned to thinking of Bella as his? His first impression of Special Agent Bella Jordan was less than positive. In fact, her in-control personality had irritated him.
How was he supposed to feel about a woman once determined to pin three murders on him, possibly four? Then Carr realized both of them wanted to be in control, and neither intended to give an inch. She certainly didn’t fit the type of woman he once found attractive, but those women were a part of his life before Christ stepped in as CEO.
He resisted the urge to brush her auburn hair from her cheek. Knowing Bella, her green eyes would snap open, and she’d give him a piece of her mind. Probably arrest him. With an inward chuckle, he turned to look at the flowers, and his stomach soured at the sight of the two vases: one from Stanton Warick and another from an unknown sender. Frank had been gone since eleven o’clock to check with the florist about who ordered the anonymous flowers. But finding the flower shop open on a Sunday afternoon was unlikely.
Brandt Richardson and Stanton Warick. A shot of heat burned his face. Bella had indicated that Warick may have shot her. Then the man had the guts to send her flowers. A psycho for sure.
As soon as she wakened, he’d ask her if she’d actually seen Warick near the butte.
Bella’s eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. Carr took her hand and brushed a kiss across her fingertips.
“Are you taking advantage of me?”
“I am. It’s not every day a man gets a chance to kiss an FBI special agent.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
That’s my girl. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot.”
“Ever happened before?”
“This is the first. Hope it’s my last.”
Carr studied her face. He had to ask about Warick. “Do you know who fired at us?”
“I have my suspicions.”
“Back at the ranch, before you passed out, you uttered a name.”
She tilted her head. “Who?”
“Dad.”
“Does Frank know?”
“No. I thought you should tell him.”
“It’s probably time.”
Carr took a deep breath. How strange to feel close to a woman he barely knew, to feel the stirrings of love and wo
nder if she shared the same. A part of him believed he had nothing to offer her but a past filled with imitation life. The part of him who trusted the promises of God said he was a new creation. “Someone is trying to kill you. For heaven’s sakes, Bella, tell what you know to those who can stop this madman.”
She peered up at him, not at all like the crusty agent who appeared fearless in the face of danger. “I . . . I have no choice but to continue the investigation. This is my job.”
The phone rang, and she waited two more rings before asking Carr to hand it to her. “Aunt Debbie, I’m so glad you called.”
Admiration for Bella seized him. He believed in her—the things she said and the things she didn’t say.
“I’m sorry I upset you, but I’m fine. Just a surface wound.” Bella closed her eyes. “Oh, they exaggerated. If they’d told me about the call, I would have contacted you yesterday. As it was, they doped me up, and I slept all afternoon and through the night.” She whisked away a tear. “Don’t you dare think about coming here. I’m fine, and I’m working. Besides I know how your allergies act up in this climate.”
Carr took her hand. He’d read of courage, heard of courage. But he’d never witnessed strength in action like his Bella demonstrated.
“I’m so sorry to have worried you.” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “No, I haven’t seen any of them, but I’m sure I will.”
She must be talking about the Warick cousins. But seeing them made little sense if she suspected Stanton was trying to kill her. What a peculiar family. Maybe the kids’ parents were better people. No wonder she ran away.
“Yes, I’ll call or e-mail every day. I love you too.” Bella disconnected the call, and Carr replaced the phone for her. She blew out a sigh. “That was close. Aunt Debbie had the airline’s Web site up to purchase a plane ticket.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“If someone wants me dead, she’d be number two.”
The hole grew deeper. “Am I right that the murder investigation and the Spider Rock treasure are tied together with a personal vendetta?”
She winced, and he knew it had nothing to do with her wound. “You’re close. And I’ve got to see it to the end.”
“Doesn’t this convince you to let someone else handle it? After all, there’s been a whole task force on this case.” He punched his fist into his hand. “Do you think one of them is behind this?”
Bella peered at him. “I did, but he was poisoned. And I do again, but I have no proof.”
“Who?”
“The new sheriff.”
“Roano? He isn’t the one. He’s too loyal to Darren.”
“Those are the ones to watch. What can you tell me about him?”
“Newly married. Takes his job seriously. Unchurched.”
“Does he live within his means?”
Carr thought for a moment. “He’s into horses like a lot of folks out here. Everything about his lifestyle seems to be in line with a typical deputy. Or should I say sheriff?”
“A little animosity there? I guessed a long time ago he was the one who blacked your eye.”
“Maybe so.”
“But you don’t suspect him as power- or money-hungry?”
He shook his head. “Have you done your normal cell phone and background check on Roano?”
She laughed. “Yes. He’s clean, Agent Sullivan. Do you suspect anyone else on the task force?”
Carr shoved his hands into his pockets and walked across the room. He turned, realizing his statement would most likely shake her resolve to not involve him. “I suspect whom you suspect—Brandt Richardson and Stanton Warick. If it wasn’t for all the disturbances in your investigation, I’m sure you’d have the information by now. Because of it, I plan to conduct a visit to a certain Warick.”
“Don’t even consider it.” She frowned. “Have you seen Vic?”
“No. Frank asked about him too.” Her hair splayed against the pillow like Carr envisioned an angel. Breathtakingly beautiful.
“Would you make a call for me? I need to talk to my supervisor in Houston. I need to find out where Vic is spending his time.”
* * *
Bella pushed away the liquid-only tray of food. The nurse claimed tomorrow she could enjoy a soft diet. Bella would suck in her growling stomach until then. Bouillon and tea were for toothless old ladies, and she had miles to go before she gave in to eating with a straw.
Carr had stepped out to get cleaned up at a hotel. He’d be back within the hour.
“How are you going to get any better if you don’t eat?” Frank peered from behind the newspaper in front of his face. His attempt at a scowl gave him a uniquely studious look. “I purposely sat over here and ignored you so you’d follow doctor’s orders.”
“Bring me a milk shake, and I’ll drink my dinner. But first tell me what you learned at the florist.”
“I lucked out because the owner was cleaning up after a wedding. He said Stanton Warick phoned in the flower order signed ‘Dad.’ A woman came into the florist shop of the hospital and paid cash for the one with no signature.”
“What did she look like?”
“Tall blonde. Midforties, wearing jeans and red boots. The florist said she was an attractive woman but didn’t say much.”
“Sounds like Mair, the woman my dad was once married to.”
“How was your relationship with her?”
Bella hadn’t disliked her stepmother until she learned Mair had teamed up with Brandt. Most likely the hard times had driven her into his arms. But according to the FBI, she was somewhere in South America. “She wasn’t the evil stepmother, if that is what you’re driving at. She had her hands full taking care of five kids and trying to feed us. I helped her with the younger ones.”
He folded the newspaper in his typical everything-has-a-place attitude and stood. “I know you have more to say, so out with it. What about this case aren’t you telling me?”
She pointed to her laptop, which Carr had brought in earlier from her car. “It’s all right there. I want this killer apprehended. He’s killed four people—four people too many. I have a few ideas and leads I want to check into, and it’s all documented.”
“Good. You told me earlier the clues to this Spider Rock treasure led to a triangle between the towns Rotan, Aspermont, and Clyde. Have you learned anything that points to the High Butte?”
“Only the dead man’s words in the dirt.”
“I’ll get right on it. Swartzer sent me the intel report on the other men associated with Richardson. All of them checked out except the professor at the University of Texas. What’s his name?”
“Howard MacGregor. Teaches law. The problem is he took an extended leave of absence before the three victims were found. No one knows where he is. However, we did learn he is an expert rifle shot, which Richardson could use.”
“Any family?”
“Not married. No close friends at UT. Neighbors stated he’s a loner.”
“I’d like to see what he looks like.” She shrugged. “Of course, if he’s associated with Brandt, then he’s learned how to disguise himself.”
Frank pulled out his BlackBerry and showed her Professor MacGregor’s photo. Something was vaguely familiar about him. “Show his photo to Pastor Kent Matthews and Carr.”
“Will do. Why don’t you concentrate on getting well and let the task force bring this to an end. Once you’re home, you can rest up before going back to work.”
She fought the urge to cry—like a girl. Special agents worked together as a team, not hiding their findings so they could secure promotions. “I’m not going back to Houston.”
“That’s not my call or yours.” She saw the old look of caring in his eyes and promised herself not to use it selfishly. As intuitive as Frank had always been, he’d no doubt seen what she and Carr refused to discuss.
“It could be. All you have to do is tell Swartzer you need me on the case.”
He twisted his mouth as though she’
d asked the impossible. “According to Carr, this isn’t the first time an attempt has been made on your life.”
“Please, Frank.” Desperation crept through her good intentions. “Our job is dangerous. I’m onto something for the shooter to pump lead into me.”
“Did you see who shot you and Carr?”
“No. I simply have a strong suspicion.”
“Brandt Richardson?”
“He’s one.”
“Who else are you thinking is involved?”
“My father—Stanton Warick.”
Frank’s face paled. “I humored you about running down the florist. So this isn’t a family squabble? Is Swartzer aware of the possible connection?”
“I told him this afternoon, along with the information about Vic’s absence from the task force.”
“Maybe you could enlighten me about what’s going on.” He blew out a huff. “One thing at a time. I did find out about Vic Anderson, what’s going on in his life, and why he’s absent from the assignment. He took a leave of absence. I understand his wife is in the final stages of cancer. Looks like he’d been missing quite a bit of work for the past several months, and his job was on the line.”
“That explains a lot of things. It would have been considerate of him to have notified me about his leave of absence. I couldn’t tell if his problem was with me because I’m a woman and younger or something else. Certainly his wife’s health weighed on his mind. I’d like to think his personal problems have gotten in the way of his professionalism. I mean, his record is outstanding.”
“He’s clean—just handling a lot of stress.”
That eliminated her suspicions about him being involved with Brandt. “Has anyone taken his place?”
“You’re looking at him. Swartzer knew we worked well together.”
She read more into his words than a working relationship. Poor Frank. She’d never hurt him intentionally. “We’ve solved some high-level cases together.”
“Your insight and my analytical manner of doing things.”
She appreciated him, always had. She simply didn’t love him. “When our differences don’t have us climbing down each other’s throats.”
