Pursuit of Justice

by DiAnn Mills

  In the meantime, Carr would write down his every thought and lock it in his safe.

  Chapter 54

  Bella and Frank drank double espressos while they tossed back and forth where Howard MacGregor could have gone. He hadn’t booked a flight out of Abilene, Austin, or Houston. For certain an informant had warned him about the FBI, which meant he’d left by car. Except the authorities hadn’t been able to locate it.

  Most likely Brandt had arranged for his death. The race sped on as to who would get to MacGregor first.

  “I need to call Carr,” she said.

  Frank lifted a brow.

  “You already phoned Roano. This is a courtesy call.”

  “Right.” Frank’s surly attitude was about to rub off on her.

  “Swartzer is doing all he can, and the Abilene police are chasing down a few clues.”

  “Right. So call Carr.”

  She didn’t want to discuss their personal relationship right now. But Carr did have a right to an update. He answered on the first ring.

  “You have MacGregor in custody?” Carr said.

  “Nope. He’s gone. We’re following up on a few things now.” Not exactly. They were sitting in a Starbucks—regrouping.

  “Are you headed this way?”

  “I know you’re anxious, but we can’t leave without some answers.”

  “This is different. I have a few . . . suspicions or conclusions to discuss with you and Frank.”

  Her pulse sped into air travel. “What’s happened?”

  “Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Wesley’s there.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She relaxed. “If you think this is serious, we’ll wrap this up and drive your way.”

  He blew out a long breath. “If what I’m thinking is a false alarm, I’m going to feel stupid. MacGregor is the real thing. This is . . . speculation.”

  Bella noted Frank was following the conversation the best he could. Then his phone rang. “It’s Abilene PD,” he said. “They’ve located MacGregor’s car outside a hotel.”

  “Carr, I gotta run. Talk to you later.” She ended the call and snatched up her shoulder bag.

  Fifteen minutes later, Bella and Frank approached a hotel door where Howard MacGregor was supposed to be. This time the hotel manager had given them a key. “Howard MacGregor, this is the FBI. You are under arrest. Open the door,” Bella said.

  When he didn’t respond, she handed Frank the key. Weapons ready, he opened the door and swung it wide.

  The room reeked of vomit. MacGregor lay facedown on the bed, his face in a puddle of his own excretion. The memory of how Darren had died crept across her mind.

  Frank felt the man’s neck for a pulse. “He’s dead.”

  “A wild guess here says it’s thanatoxin.” She studied the room and the bathroom. A half glass of water was by the sink. “It may be in that,” she pointed.

  Another body.

  Number six.

  * * *

  Carr took a chance. What did he have to lose? Bella and Frank were driving back from Abilene and would be at the High Butte by early evening. The man he’d known as Aros Kemptor was dead. Wesley sat on the back porch reading yesterday’s paper from Abilene—at least that was his normal habit. Time to mosey on down from the library and be friendly-like, as the locals said. He put the landline on Do Not Disturb since Lydia had opted for a nap—her usual way of handling stress—and Jasper was riding fence, which was where Carr should be.

  Turning his cell phone ringer off, he snatched up a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses on his way through the kitchen and stepped onto the back porch.

  “Are you as bored as I am?” Carr set the pitcher and glasses on the table.

  Wesley let the newspaper rest on his lap and rubbed his eyes. “By this time of the afternoon, I’m ready to call it quits. And day-old news doesn’t cut it.”

  Carr poured them a glass of lemonade. “This is the strongest I can offer.”

  “No problem. I’ll have a cold beer when my shift’s over.” He wrapped his fingers around the glass. “Sure is a shame about Aros.”

  “I liked the guy. Never had a clue he was working with Brandt Richardson.”

  “You don’t think he was working alone?”

  Carr kept his gaze focused on Wesley and sat down across from him. “Not at all. Neither does the FBI. Heard Aros made some accusations before he died.”

  “What did he say?”

  “According to Bella, he named who else was working with him.”

  Wesley took a long drink. “I wonder who.”

  “Beats me, but they’re finishing up in Abilene and then on their way here.” Carr hoped they were on their way to the High Butte.

  “Too bad my shift is over early today. I’d like to hear about it.”

  “Won’t Roano give you the information? But I can call if you like.”

  “That would be good. Sometimes Roano is slow.”

  Carr settled back into the chair and crossed his legs. He peered at Wesley’s feet. “Boy, you got some big feet going there.”

  “Got those from my daddy. Size thirteen.”

  Bella stated the boot print found near the candy wrapper was a size thirteen. “Are your folks living? Never heard you mention them.”

  “Mom is. Dad died of a heart attack when I was eleven.”

  “Is that when Darren took over?”

  “Not until later.”

  “Darren told me once you were spiraling down a twisted path for a while.”

  “Oh yeah. Once my dad was out of the picture, I didn’t care what I did or who I hurt. Uncle Darren got me on the right road.”

  “I’m glad. He has you and his sons as a part of his legacy.”

  Wesley flinched, and Carr saw it. “At one time when Mom remarried, I was supposed to live with Darren and Tiffany, but she didn’t want me around her kids.”

  “I’m sure she had good reasons. But look how well you’ve done.”

  “Tell her that.”

  “Sorry to hear there were problems.”

  “Uncle Darren took her word for everything. Happened a long time ago, but it still fries my rear. She was afraid I’d get my hands on her family’s money.”

  “Well, seems to me you proved her wrong.” Carr smiled and finished his lemonade. Once the two talked a few more minutes, he excused himself to place a call to Tiffany Adams.

  Chapter 55

  Bella had stepped over the threshold of cranky into the realm of wanting to tear something—anything—apart with her bare hands. Brandt had left another body for them to uncover, and Howard MacGregor had been working for him under the name of Aros Kemptor.

  She massaged the back of her neck as though it would give her clarity of thought. Staring at Frank as he drove toward Ballinger, she wondered how he could look so calm. “This just gets worse and worse.”

  “We have to be getting close or MacGregor wouldn’t be dead. Brandt didn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut.”

  “Carr has a suspect.”

  Frank’s attention swung to her. “Since when?”

  “When he called earlier. Remember?”

  “Who?”

  “Said he’d tell us when we got there.”

  Frank pressed his lips together, then nodded at her. “Let’s hope he’s still alive.”

  Bella’s stomach flipped. “I think he was simply speculating. You know Carr. He’s always trying to help. Wesley’s there, Mr. Andy of Mayberry himself.” She pulled out her phone and pressed in Carr’s number. The phone rang four times and went to voice mail. “Carr, call me. Frank and I want to know what you’re thinking.”

  “Does this happen often?” Frank said.

  “He normally answers on the first or second ring.” She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the air-conditioning in Frank’s car. “It’s a first.”

  “Try again.”

&nb
sp; When Carr didn’t respond to her second call, she phoned the landline. “Oh, I’m getting a text.”

  * * *

  “Did Tiffany give you an earful?” Wesley leaned against the library’s doorway, his 9mm aimed at Carr’s chest.

  Carr’s presumption had been right. But this wasn’t how he wanted to find out who murdered Darren. Lydia, stay asleep. “All this time, we thought you and Darren were closer than father and son.”

  “Hated that man. Hated his wife more.”

  “But he tried to help.”

  “Oh yeah, by doubling my community service over and above what the judge dished out. Lecturing me for hours about right and wrong. Making me go to church. Giving me curfews when I was eighteen years old.” Wesley shrugged. “I got even, though.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “I have.”

  “Was it worth it?”

  Wesley smirked. “What do you think?”

  Keep him talking. “Got to hand it to you. How did you trick him?”

  Wesley stepped into the room and closed the door. “Doesn’t matter now since I’m about to shoot you in self-defense.”

  Carr didn’t move a muscle. Wesley didn’t need an excuse to pump a bullet into him. And he was right. No one would doubt his integrity for shooting a suspect in self-defense.

  “I followed dear Uncle Darren that morning,” Wesley said. “We’d had words the night before, and I knew he’d suspected me of working with Aros. Especially when he caught me meeting with him after my shift on the west side of the High Butte. Anyway, I pulled off to the side of the road and parked where I knew he’d see me. It was a gamble, but it paid off. I had other plans if that didn’t work. When he drove by, I waved. Good old Uncle Darren turned back around and parked beside me. I apologized for taking the case into my own hands and consulting Aros about the possibility of your guilt. Then I offered to buy him a cup of coffee. Told him I appreciated him and all he’d done for me. He agreed to the coffee, and I whipped my car back into town, bought a cup at the convenience store, and dropped the poison into it.” He laughed. “I even offered him another candy bar, which had been my first thought of where to place the poison. But he played right into my hands that morning.”

  Someone had to have seen Wesley at the convenience store. “So you and Aros were working together?”

  “Were.” Wesley snickered. “We had our areas of expertise.”

  Carr shook his head. Time. He needed more time. “Who else?”

  He laughed. “I have no idea.”

  “Who killed the three men at the butte?”

  “You can figure that one out yourself.”

  “Richardson or Stanton Warick?”

  “Warick? Are you kidding? He’s a Bible-thumper. Worthless. Wouldn’t waste my time on him.”

  “Did you shoot out Bella’s tires?”

  “Shut up. You’ve heard enough.”

  “You’re one smart man, Wesley.”

  “And I’m about to be a rich one too.”

  From the way Wesley narrowed his eyes, Carr realized the man’s patience was dangerously thin. “Are you sure Richardson is going to let you live to spend any of the money?”

  “I’m following his instructions and doing exactly what I’m told.”

  “Even this one?”

  Wesley nodded slowly. “Open your bottom desk drawer on the left, nice and easy. Inside is a revolver.”

  Carr slowly pulled on the drawer. There it was. Another one of his guns from his supposedly locked case, a Colt .45. The weapon gleamed wickedly at him.

  “I had lots of time to figure out where things are kept. Thought about planting the poison, but Richardson didn’t like the idea. Lydia told me where you kept the key to your gun cabinet. Stupid woman.”

  Now it had all come together. “How much are you getting paid for this?”

  “Plenty. And I’m going to be the local hero. Pick up the gun. It’s not loaded. I’ll take care of that part later.”

  “You have a problem. Modern technology will show a discrepancy. You shoot me; then you load my gun. What happens if Lydia or Jasper hear you?”

  “Jasper is gone and Lydia is about to get herself killed by her trusted boss. If I had thoughts of staying around this dust bowl, I could end up as sheriff.”

  “Or you could end up on death row.”

  “I need less than two minutes to pull this off.”

  Carr leaned onto his arms on his desk. Time was running out, but he had nothing left to stall Wesley. “I do have something to say.”

  “Make it fast.”

  “Since you walked in the door, I’ve had my phone on speaker. Bella and Frank have heard every word of your confession.”

  Wesley’s face reddened. “Liar.”

  Carr pointed to the phone, where a small red light indicated the activated speaker phone option. “If I were you, I’d be getting out of here. Doesn’t take but a few minutes for Roano to close the distance between Ballinger and the High Butte.”

  Wesley swore and aimed his weapon.

  Dogs barked, momentarily snatching Wesley’s attention. His eyes narrowed.

  “Look out the window behind me,” Carr said, much more calmly than he felt. “I advise you to take the back door.”

  “They might take me, but you’ll go in a body bag.”

  Chapter 56

  Moments after Roano and two other deputies quietly entered the front door of Carr’s home and another deputy hurried around to the back, Bella exited Frank’s car with him right beside her.

  “Let’s take the rear.” Bella raced to the back of the massive home with her Glock drawn, wishing she had both arms free to help apprehend Wesley.

  Carr and Lydia had to be all right. They had to be. What if Brandt was there too? What if . . . ? She shook off her fears and concentrated on her job.

  The deputy gently tugged on one of the two doors that led inside the rear of the house lined with glass. Locked. She wrapped her fingers around the doorknob that led from the deck into the kitchen. Locked. Perspiration dripped down her temples.

  Gunfire burst from inside the house.

  “Break down the door, the glass, something,” she said. “We’ve got to get in there now.”

  Through the window she saw Lydia stumble through the kitchen. The three pounded on the doors and glass. She startled and hurried to open the closest door, where the deputy stood.

  “Stand aside, ma’am,” he said.

  Lydia, clearly shaken, did as she was told. “What’s going on? Where’s Carr? Wesley?”

  “Roano,” Bella called, hoping they weren’t too late to help him or any of the deputies.

  “We got him.” Roano’s voice rang from the upper stairway. “Wesley fired his weapon, but no one’s hurt.”

  Thank You. Bella glanced up at the winding staircase to see Wesley in handcuffs. His cocky attitude had been his downfall.

  Lydia gasped. “Not Wesley.”

  Bella made her way to the woman’s side and wrapped her arms around her trembling shoulders. Lydia had the strength of ten women, but being betrayed by a young man who’d professed to be her friend and bodyguard was a heavy dose of shock. “It’s over, Lydia. Roano has Wesley in custody. He’s one of the killers.”

  Bella assisted Lydia into a chair. “But how? He was devoted to Darren. Where is Carr? Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine.” Bella knelt beside her. “I’m sorry. I know you’re fond of Wesley.”

  Lydia covered her face with her hands. She glanced up at Bella. “He lied to me so many times, saying how much he wanted to catch the killer. And how much he loved his uncle Darren. How could he fool us like that?”

  “For some, it’s easy,” Bella whispered. “None of us ever want to be taken advantage of.”

  Carr entered the kitchen, and Bella fought the urge to go to him. Instead she moved aside so he could comfort Lydia. He embraced the tearful woman. No doubt he was shaken up too.

  “Mi hijo.” This was the first
time Bella had heard Lydia speak Spanish, and the words were the endearing my son.

  Brandt hadn’t been apprehended, but two key persons had been identified: Howard MacGregor and Wesley Adams. Now to keep Wesley alive and persuade him to point the FBI to Brandt.

  Roano escorted Wesley down the stairs in handcuffs. Roano handed him off to two of his deputies. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said to them. “First I need to talk to the FBI and Carr.” Roano nodded toward the open door of the kitchen that led to the deck. “Can we talk outside?”

  “Sure.” Bella patted Lydia’s shoulder. Frank and Carr followed her into the torrid heat.

  “I owe you an apology.” Roano’s reddened face mirrored his humiliation. “All of you.” He hesitated, then blew out a sigh. “In my gung ho effort to seal this case and charge Carr with the murders, I kept my suspicions to myself.” He nodded at Bella. “Pastor Kent came to me the other morning and said Darren was having problems with Wesley, and he wondered at times which side of the law he was on. Kent said he didn’t want to tell Carr or the FBI because he didn’t really have a basis to accuse Wesley.”

  Bella remembered the flippant remark she’d made about Carr possibly being a delusional psychotic. She’d slammed the door on Kent’s displaying any confidence in her. This could have been brought to an end sooner if she’d guarded her mouth. Her own fault. As soon as she had an opportunity, she’d make amends with the pastor who found it impossible to trust her.

  The jigsaw puzzle had now fallen into place. Wesley, the earnest and conscientious young deputy who claimed to idolize his uncle Darren, had been the infiltrator for Brandt. He’d been privy to the discussions about the investigation. Been Lydia’s bodyguard. Offered information that threw them off.

  Roano reached out to shake Carr’s hand. “I’ve been a jerk. You took a bullet like Bella. That should have cleared your name, but I was after revenge for Darren without any sense.”

  “No problem.” Carr gripped his hand. “It’s done and over.”