by DiAnn Mills
If given a choice, she’d have been a Comanche in this area and pitched her tepee along the Colorado River. Lived out her days keeping her warrior happy and tending to their children. She’d tan deer hide or whatever animal her warrior brought in and never complain about cleaning fish. Sure would beat running down a serial murderer.
“Where are you?” Carr said. “Besides noting every vehicle behind us.”
“Daydreaming.”
“About us?”
“Don’t you wish?” He hadn’t been that far off. “Do you like pecan pie? I’m hungry.”
He laughed. “I’ve been tossed aside for a pie. But yes. I own a large pecan orchard in Oklahoma. Want to go there?” He slowed as they entered a small town.
He never ceased to surprise her. “Not today. But it sounds like fun.” A large banner stretched across the street and welcomed them with Season’s Greetings. “Oh, my goodness. Are those Christmas lights? I didn’t notice these the other day.”
“Figures,” he said. “This is probably where you were talking to me about Aros.”
Reality registered. “Thanks for the church bulletin. It’s safe in my shoulder bag.”
“Your one-hundred-pound purse probably contains land mines.”
“Keep thinking that, and we’ll do just fine.” She noted a Jeep had followed them for the past ten miles or so. “Did you tell anyone where we were going?”
“Only Lydia. The Jeep has your attention too? What if I turn onto the next road?”
“Go for it.” She snatched up her cell and phoned the operations center in Houston. “I suspect I’m being followed. Can’t read the license plate; I’m—” Her cell no longer had connectivity. “We’re on our own.”
“Looks like those days of dodging cops while under the influence might have paid off.”
She took another look at the Jeep. “That’s comforting. Did you outrun them?”
“All but once.” Carr turned onto a country road on the left. “I apologize for early this morning. Didn’t mean to be so harsh about Aros.”
“No problem.”
“Kent trusts him, and I do too. But I thought of something during the sermon that I wanted to toss by you. Kent spoke about how King David mourned for those in his army who had betrayed him. Caused me to think about Aros. Kent is a dynamic preacher and counselor. He’s a man of vision but not necessarily a man of business. That’s why he has surrounded himself with deacons who have the expertise he lacks. However, he has been known to make an inappropriate decision—like all of us.”
“What are you trying to say, Carr?”
“Not enough time has elapsed for Aros to present my mineral rights papers to the deacons. On the other hand, would Kent ask him to present anyone’s donation? He may want to protect the giver’s privacy.”
“Fine line of anonymity there. Tomorrow we’ll have a better picture of who Aros is and what he represents.”
“Impatience is my middle name. How far down this road do we go until we backtrack?”
“Fifteen minutes.” Bella’s cell phone rang, and she saw the caller was Pete from FIG. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Just received an update on Richardson.”
Her pulse quickened. “Okay. Bring it on.”
“While in Mexico City, he had surgery to repair his vocal cords. From what we’ve learned, his voice is now normal.”
“Thanks. I appreciate this. I’d already figured out that he’d had surgery, and this verifies it. I’ll get the info out to the task force.” She ended the call and hit speed dial for Frank. While she waited for him to answer, she glanced at Carr. “I’ll explain as soon as I talk to Frank.”
What if Brandt had said he was Higgins when he met with the old man in Junction? Wither needed round-the-clock protection. Preferably a trip out of Junction. Two items to talk over with Frank.
Chapter 48
Brandt waited at a turnoff for Sullivan and Rachel to drive by. He could easily play their game. When they were onto him following them again, he’d quit. His interest had been in why they’d driven to Junction, and it soured him to see they wanted to talk to Shep Wither. By the old man’s not working today and not being at home, Brandt had bought time. Higgins had done all of the work and secured the map, but Wither knew the exact location, and he’d tell Rachel and Sullivan. No point speculating how they found out about Wither. The information could have come from a list of locals. However, the time had come for the old man to meet his Maker.
Instead of following Sullivan, he’d drive back to Junction and explore the sights.
Flipping on the radio, he tuned to an old country-western station, then turned the Jeep around. Twenty minutes down the road, his cell phone rang. Recognizing the caller, he made a quick decision not to respond and let the call go to voice mail. Once the message was recorded, Brandt listened.
“Thought you needed to know. New update. FBI is onto your throat surgery in Mexico City. They’ve also placed Shep Wither under their protection.”
Brandt cursed. Not if I get to him first.
Chapter 49
Bella watched the countryside as Carr drove up 83 toward Ballinger. The flatter the land, the less vegetation, and the stubby trees became more like brush while the grasses faded to brown. Good old Texas. The terrain could change in the blinking of an eye. She could see over the flat plains for miles with narrow rock and dirt county roads breaking the landscape. All the while, her mind twisted with where she’d made errors in the murder investigation.
Brandt had acquired a limp. Was it a disguise or an injury? And Professor Miller’s journal indicated the man who called himself Morton also limped. She e-mailed Pete from her BlackBerry and asked him to search out the possibility of an injury. Great, they were out of range; but the message would be sent soon. Oh, the frustrations of West Texas.
“If Brandt really has a limp, there lies the answer to why he didn’t walk from the road to the murder victims,” Bella said.
Carr blinked. Their last thread of communication had been about the Jeep, which had disappeared. Then Kent’s announcement about Darren’s burial on Thursday afternoon, now that his body had been released.
Bella realized her less-than-stellar mode of changing conversation topics.
“True. He may not have wanted to drive so he could enter the area undetected.”
“All theories,” she said, more than a little frustrated. “A jigsaw puzzle is never easy when you don’t have the corner pieces.”
“You have to try each piece to make sure it fits.”
She hesitated, but urgency had taken hold. “Do you know where Lydia and Jasper’s daughter lives?”
“Sure. You want to swing by there?”
“I do. This is starting to gel, and I need more information. Naturally it’s not protocol.”
He raised a brow, and she laughed.
“Agents are not to conduct interviews alone. However, I have a tendency to bend the rules. But since you’re with me, I’ll call the operations center as soon as I have cell coverage and report in.”
“And what will you tell them?”
“Are you worried?”
“Nope. Just curious.”
She hesitated, waiting to see if he pursued his curiosity.
“I’m waiting.”
She laughed. “I just need to give them stats—the who, what, where, when, and how long stuff. Then when we leave, I’ll phone in again. The rule is ‘a good agent doesn’t put herself in jeopardy.’”
Two hours later, Bella and Carr sat in the living room of Lydia and Jasper’s daughter, Wanda, drinking pink lemonade and waiting for her high-school-age twin daughters to leave for a barbecue. When the twins’ car pulled away onto the road, Bella didn’t waste any time.
“This is not a social call,” Bella said.
“I figured as much,” Wanda said, a mirror likeness of her mother. “You’re FBI and working on the series of murders.”
“Right. I have a couple of questions about one of
the members of New Hope.”
Wanda frowned. “Do I have a choice?”
“That tells me you already know who I’m going to ask about.”
Wanda shrugged. “Maybe. Simply makes me nervous—the girls and all.”
Bella well understood her apprehension, and Wanda didn’t know about Yvonne Taylor. “I hope you choose to cooperate. Runnels County is due for some well-deserved peace. I’m looking for information about Aros Kemptor.”
Wanda stiffened, her tanned face tense. “He’s the church’s attorney.”
“Wanda,” Carr began in his typical gentle manner, “there’s more here at stake than your obvious skepticism about Aros.”
“I know.” Her voice cracked.
Bella understood the woman’s trepidation. Wanda’s pale face left no doubt as to her fright. “Anything you say is confidential. But the murderer has to be stopped.”
Wanda stood from the beige sofa, took a deep breath, and then seated herself again. “I don’t trust him.”
“Why?” Bella moved to the sofa and took the woman’s hand. She had more of a desire to comfort Wanda than to secure the information. A new revelation about herself.
“Too secretive. And Pastor Kent is much too trusting.” She moistened her lips. “When I heard from Pastor Kent about Carr giving up his mineral rights for the building project, I suggested to him that the deacons see Aros’s paperwork. Kent agreed and stated he hadn’t seen it either. Later I heard Aros claimed the paperwork had already been filed with the county and was unavailable. I’m not a fancy lawyer, but that didn’t sound right to me unless Aros had something to hide.”
“If it’s been filed, we have access to it.” Bella patted her hand.
“I know, which also made me question Aros’s objection,” Wanda said. “I’d planned to check it out at the courthouse this week on my lunch hour. I know Pastor Kent thinks Aros is wonderful—and maybe so—but I don’t.”
“Thank you,” Bella said. “You’ve been really helpful. Tomorrow we’ll have answers.”
“Can you call me?” Wanda said. “If Aros has done something illegal with Carr’s paperwork, then he may be misleading Pastor Kent about other things.”
“Certainly.” Bella glanced at Carr. “One of us will keep you informed. And I don’t think it’s necessary to let anyone know about our discussion.”
“Trust me, I won’t. Except my husband. He already knows I don’t care for the man.” Wanda lifted her chin like Bella had seen Lydia do.
“We’ll leave you to your Sunday evening.” Bella saw Wanda’s face was still pale. “Do we need to talk to your husband?”
“Not at all. He went to see a friend who hasn’t been at church recently. Should be home anytime.”
* * *
“My plans for you to have a relaxing afternoon sure went by the wayside,” Carr said as he turned out of Ballinger toward the High Butte.
“I am tired,” she said.
“How about exhausted? A few days ago you were battling for your life, and now you’re chasing criminals.”
She laughed. “I’m running on pure adrenaline. But we’re getting closer to finding the murderer.”
“Could be tomorrow.” Oh, how he wished so.
“We always say that: tomorrow.” She breathed out a sigh. “Remind me to call Frank again before I give in to sleep.”
“Better do it now. You’re fading like a three-day-old rose.”
Bella adjusted the truck seat to an upright position. “You make sense, and my shoulder is killing me—pardon the description.”
“Good. Because I have a few things to say to you.” When the moment came when he could kiss her, she’d better be ready.
“Frank’s already noticed our relationship.”
He sobered. Frank had not hidden his caring for Bella, but Carr had ignored it. “Am I in trouble?”
“I don’t think so. We dated for a while. I ended it, and he’s still pursuing a relationship. Remember? You and I aren’t having this discussion until the investigation is over.”
“Right. We’re only thinking about it.”
“I refuse to comment.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d waited all his life for a woman like Bella, and he’d wait a whole lot longer.
Reality always had a way of restraining his emotions. Lately the fear racing through the community seemed to have no end. But today had been a turn for the best. Maybe they were closing in on the root of the evil. At least Carr hoped so.
Chapter 50
That night Bella crawled into bed, bone tired and aching all over. The clock read 8:03, but she didn’t care. The blinds were closed, and the bed was calling her name. She’d skipped dinner, promising Lydia and Carr she’d devour a full breakfast in the morning.
The day had zapped the last ounce of her energy—well, perhaps the past several days had contributed to the depletion. Closing her eyes, she prayed for God to protect those she loved and for the murderer to be found soon, along with his accomplices. Her mind started to drift when her BlackBerry buzzed a text. She groaned and opted to read it in the morning. This was what had started her day at 4 a.m. But old habits were hard to break, and she decided to take a quick look. Are you free to talk? Anne. With a shake of her head, Bella picked up the landline.
“Hi, Anne. You wanted me to call?”
“Are you in bed?”
“Yes, but it’s okay. Even FBI agents need their beauty rest.”
“I can talk to you tomorrow.”
“Nope. You have your big sis’s attention, and I’d rather talk to you than sleep.”
“I just wanted to say thanks for letting us visit you and get to know you.”
Guilt assaulted Bella. “I should have made an effort a long time ago.”
“Daddy said for us not to bother you until you were ready ’cause he wasn’t a good father.”
“He told you that?”
“Oh yeah. He never lets us forget he wasn’t following Jesus back then. Sometimes he goes overboard with it.”
Bella chose to keep her sentiments to herself. “I really want to be a part of your and your brothers’ lives.”
“Cool. Does that mean you’re going to move back?”
“Not exactly. I thought maybe you and your brothers would want to move to Houston with me.”
“Why? Our home is here. And Daddy only knows ranching.”
Bella had no intentions of providing a home for her father. “He could stay here. Houston has lots to offer growing teens.”
“But this is our home. Wouldn’t it be easier for you to live here? I don’t want to leave Daddy until I go to college.”
Bella sensed her spirit crushing around her. Anne would rather live in this dirt and grit with their father? “Would you think about it?”
“Oh, Rachel. There’s nothing to think about. This is home, and I love it here.”
“Okay.” Bella didn’t want to upset Anne. “Are you babysitting tomorrow?”
“Uh-huh. Gotta be there at six thirty. But the little boys don’t wake up until eight thirty.”
“What do you do for those two hours?”
“Fix them breakfast. Get crafts ready. Pick out books. Things like that.”
Bella loved the sound of Anne’s voice, the hope and expectations of a young girl who was excited about her future. But Bella could give her and her brothers so much more—education, entertainment, diversity in friends. How could she make them see that they were better off without their father? One of these days, he’d turn on them, and then all four would be hurt. Perhaps irrevocably. She had to persuade them to leave with her, and time was running out.
Chapter 51
On Monday morning, Bella wiggled into her jeans and a loose-fitting shirt to take the church bulletin to the sheriff’s department for fingerprinting. The fingerprinting examiners would have to take elimination prints from Carr to rule out his involvement and focus on Kemptor. The bandage around her shoulder made showering and dressing difficult, p
lus the wound still hurt. Forget the pain meds. She needed all of her mental faculties. With the baby Glock at her ankle and the larger Glock tucked in her waistband, she made her way to the kitchen and the wafting smell of coffee.
Once she received the results of Aros Kemptor’s fingerprints and Pete’s report about him from the FIG, she’d plan the rest of the day. Even if Aros wasn’t working with Brandt, he could be cheating the church out of their building fund.
“Whoa.” Carr startled when she entered the kitchen. “You’re on a mission this morning. It’s all over your face, and my guess is your peacemaker is tucked into the back of your jeans.”
Smarty. “Might be in your best interest to remember I’m heavily armed and dangerous.”
“I’ll be your driver so you can fight crime.” He had her coffee ready, and one sip told her he’d added a teaspoon of honey. “And I have the keys.”
Bella wrapped her fingers around the much-needed brew and directed her words to Lydia. “Is he always this bossy?”
“I’m worse. And he needs to be behind the wheel. Friday scared us all. Wesley wanted to send someone after you, but none of us knew where you’d gone or who to call.”
Bella laughed. “I think the High Butte Ranch and Resort has turned into a detention center.”
“And don’t you forget it.” Carr tossed a grin. “I’m thinking about investing in ankle shackles. So what else is on today’s agenda?”
She stared into her cup of coffee, black and strong like the hold the killer had on the community. “Depends on what we learn. While we’re waiting for the fingerprint check, I’d like to talk to Pastor Kent. Oh, and I’d like to get a list of New Hope’s church members.”
“I have a list,” Carr said. “I’ll print it out now while you’re having breakfast. By the way, the cinnamon rolls are great this morning. And you didn’t eat last night.”
