Brettany threw up her hands in defeat.
“I don’t know why. But Moss or his guy left his signature or whatever-you-call-it just so you would know it was him. Right?”
Coen didn’t reply right away, taking time to choose his words carefully to explain the different pieces of the investigation and how they fit together. Brody had spoken to the medical examiner, who in turn had communicated with the Bureau’s forensic team. Everyone was in agreement that Moss did not personally commit either Heidi or Martin’s murder. Could he have gotten someone else to do his bidding? Absolutely. He’d done so in the past, but he would have reached out to the team somehow to ensure that credit was given to the master and not the pupil. That had not happened. Something was off about this entire part of the investigation.
“We can’t confirm anything, at least not yet,” Coen stated as he purposefully glanced at his watch. It was getting late and everyone was still quite emotional from consuming their entire evening with doubt mixed with fear. It was never a good idea to speculate about something of this significance with such little sleep. “I suggest everyone get some rest. We’ll have more information come morning, and then we’ll see what transpires after Calvert and the others have had time to investigate the various leads. In the meantime, it’s best for us to settle in for the duration and be as patient as we can.”
Chad and Louise blocked Brettany’s advance toward the door, all but pelting her with questions that she could now answer. They all vowed not to tell anyone a word of what she told them. Calvert had already warned all of them once of the importance of keeping these details from the press. Everyone had agreed, though Louise didn’t seem the type of woman to keep a good story like this to herself. Then again, she had kept Heidi’s secret under wraps for an entire week that could have easily prevented some of the eventual fallout.
“My daughter seems quite fond of you, Mr. Flynn. Not that either of you have been too forthcoming with the details of your involvement with one another.” Jim Lambert wasn’t a man to beat around the bush. Under normal circumstances, Coen would have appreciated such a stance. Now? It put him in a very awkward situation. “I don’t have to tell you that she’s our only daughter, do I?”
“No, sir. You don’t,” Coen agreed somewhat reluctantly, wishing he’d had a chance to shave. Hell, he was still wearing the clothes he’d changed into before leaving Colorado yesterday afternoon. He shouldn’t be worried about appearances and first impressions, but that didn’t stop him from straightening his shoulders and showing respect. “Brettany’s safety is my first priority, and I would lay down my life to protect hers.”
Coen was sincere in his declaration. It was his job, just as it had been his duty to protect the freedom of this country. He took his promises and obligations seriously, regardless of who his charge was or the emotions involved.
“That’s good to know.” Jim Lambert relaxed somewhat, though his heavy concern was still evident. “Should we…should we think about taking her somewhere else? Would it be safer for her to be away from here where she can’t be found? I have a sister who lives in California. I’m sure we can manage to be on a plane in a couple of hours.”
“Your daughter is safer here where we are controlling the situation, Mr. Lambert. You all know everyone in town. You would certainly recognize someone who was out of place. We want to minimize her exposure to situations beyond our control or with individuals she isn’t familiar with.”
Coen fully believed what he’d shared with Mr. Lambert. Not having Brettany within his visual under a contained environment would only encourage Moss to capitalize on SSI’s less than vigilant stance. He flexed his jaw in irritation. The team had all but asked for this, all of them in agreement that they were tired of reacting to Moss’ initiative, waiting for him to make a mistake.
Well, here it was plain as day. Brettany had been the intended victim, and yet Moss’ surrogate had killed the wrong woman. Unless, of course, Moss had nothing to do with this and the suspect was hoping to shift the blame to Moss as some form of a patsy. Doing so could thereby inadvertently draw the serial killer’s ire. That wasn’t something the suspect would enjoy, of that Coen was certain.
Chad and Louise were walking toward the door, though they were still asking questions and offering to stay if Brettany needed them. She turned their proposal down, saying that Coen could handle any eventuality now that he’d arrived. Her curls had escaped her hair tie, her eyes were somewhat bloodshot, and she’d lost the flush of color she’d had in her cheeks yesterday morning. He wanted a moment alone with her to reassure her that nothing else bad would happen to her on his watch, but he couldn’t make that guarantee.
“Please take the spare bedroom and get some rest, Mr. and Mrs. Lambert,” Coen suggested, figuring they could all use some sleep. He wasn’t including himself in that recommendation. “I’ll wake you should I learn anything of importance.”
Coen removed his phone and shot off a text to Calvert that the additional deputies had arrived after reading Sawyer’s message from a few minutes ago. The agent across the street, Simone Gilpin, was still in position and had been updating Brody throughout their incoming flight. No new developments were deemed noteworthy, and Simone was only a phone call and one hundred feet away should she be needed as backup with the additional sheriff’s deputies in support.
“…some rest. I need to speak with Coen for a minute, but then I’ll be up,” Brettany said softly, reassuring her parents that she was okay. She gave them both a hug and then watched as they made their way upstairs. “Good night.”
It wasn’t long before Coen and Brettany were both alone in the living room. It didn’t surprise him when her eyes filled with tears as she started to walk his way. His chest tightened in the knowledge that she was scared to death, and all he could do was take her into his arms. He simply held her and let her take what comfort and strength she could in her attempt at maintaining her composure.
“You did real good, sugar.” Coen pressed his lips against her forehead before cradling her face in his hands. He stared into her green eyes so she didn’t misunderstand what he had to say. “Your parents and friends will react how you do, so your poised disposition was exactly what you needed to portray. Keep it up, and I promise your life will return to normal before you know it.”
“All I kept thinking after Sheriff Whitney told me what happened at the police department was that Martin tried to tell me he didn’t have anything to do with Heidi’s murder. It has to be the reason he was driving here the other night, but it doesn’t explain why he crashed into the tree.” Brett tilted her head back and closed her eyes, causing her curls to fall back as well. He didn’t like that she was so pale, or that her soft skin was so cool to the touch. “It wasn’t like he knew you were here with me until after he wrecked his uncle’s car into my tree. So why run? Why not come up and knock on my door?”
“I don’t know,” Coen answered honestly, wishing he had some answers for her. “What we do know is that Moss himself didn’t kill Eyles.”
“How would someone have access to the police department’s jail cells? I know the storm prevented the local police from taking Martin to the county jail, but how could Shepherd Moss have known that?” Brettany allowed Coen to lead her over to the couch. She really was running on fumes, and it wouldn’t be long before her mind and body shut down completely. “It’s not like he’s some kind of god.”
Coen and the rest of his team had questioned the man’s reach numerous times. Moss was highly intelligent, though. His IQ was off the charts, which made capturing him a second time around that much harder. He always seemed to be at least one step ahead of the FBI, the U.S. Marshals Service, and SSI.
“Close your eyes, sugar.” Coen winced when he unconsciously used the endearment. He hadn’t intended to come back here. Hell, he’d never planned on seeing her again. It was best to put a little distance between them, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her tonight…not when she was in suc
h a fragile state. “We should all get some rest. I have a feeling we’re going to need it before this whole thing is over.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‡
Brett was getting tired of everyone she cared about treating her as if she were made of glass. She included Coen in that general group. It was as if she hadn’t proved herself to him at all.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Next door to the neighbors.” She didn’t bother looking Coen’s way as she slipped her right foot into one of her Ugg boots, liking this particular style since it didn’t require any effort to lace up. Energy was something she had very little of late, especially right at this moment. The man standing in front of her was part of the problem. “I noticed that the Dockerys were home the other day when we cleared the driveway. Their flight out to see their daughter must have been cancelled due to the storm. They probably already took a trip to the grocery store, but I made them some vegetable soup anyway.”
“You’re not leaving this house.” Coen stood in front of her while holding out his hand to take the Tupperware soup bowl she’d filled in the kitchen a few moments ago. His tone suggested that he wasn’t willing to negotiate. Well, neither was she. “I’ll take it over.”
“No, you won’t. They don’t know you. You’re not their neighbor.”
Brett shifted her body so that he couldn’t reach the soup container she’d set down on the entryway table. She grabbed her jacket.
“Brettany, don’t be—”
“Don’t be what, Coen?” Brett shoved her arms inside and then concentrated on the zipper. “Do you even realize that you’ve treated me all morning the same way as you did last weekend? Wait. Yes, you do. Because you never thought you’d have to see me again, and yet here you are pretending as if we were never intimate. If that wasn’t bad enough, you’ve been watching my every move as if I’ll break at any moment. Newsflash—I won’t. I’m not a china doll.”
Brett shouldn’t have said anything. She should have kept her feelings to herself, especially given the circumstances. Yes, she was stressed, and for very good reason. But she never expected Coen to put this…distance…between them after they’d been so close. It wasn’t fair to her, to him, or whatever friendship they might have been able to maintain had he not returned.
“Would you please keep your voice down?” Coen asked in a rather harsh whisper as he leaned in so that their heated discussion didn’t carry into the other room. “It wasn’t my intention to—”
“Did I ask you to marry me? Did I?”
“What?” Coen jerked back as if he’d been stung by a wasp. Good, because he was the one to make this morning awkward when he all but spoke to her like a stranger after allowing her to fall sleep on his shoulder last night as they sat on the couch. “Of course not. You—”
“That should tell you something then. You don’t have any kind of claim on me, Coen.” Brett looped the scarf around her neck and then took her time sliding her fingers into her gloves. She didn’t like things being so out of her control, especially when the situation involved her family and friends. “If you’re worried about my parents, don’t be. They’ll get over it as soon as you leave.”
Brett purposefully turned and pointed toward a specific picture hanging on the wall of her stairwell to prove her point.
“I’ve had several men in my life before, Coen. I’ve even managed to keep the vast majority of that small, yet precious group as friends, most of whom still say hello to my parents when they see each other in town. You won’t have that particular problem.” Brett gave one last tug on her left glove before she picked up the soup container and cradled it in her arm. “We had great sex. Crazy as it sounds, we didn’t elope afterward. My mom and dad have already figured out that I’m an adult who makes her own choices. Their only concern is for my safety and vice versa. I don’t want to see anything happen to my parents or any of my friends. Unfortunately, you’ve had three updates since we woke up in each other’s arms—and let me add that those three hours weren’t nearly enough for me to forget what you promised last night—and not once have you told me the truth about you’ve been told. All I’ve heard from you all morning is that everything is fine, because you don’t think I can handle the truth. To be honest, that’s all I want from you right now.”
“You received a real shock to your system last night, Brettany.” Coen shot a glance toward the kitchen where her mom was currently washing the dishes and her father was reading the newspaper. “Nothing has happened since then that changes the current situation in any measurable way.”
“I wouldn’t know that, would I?” Brett pointed out, wishing they could go back to when they were trapped inside by the storm and she was safe. Things between them last night had been somewhat normal, but not since this morning. Someone must have mentioned something about their relationship. “How much trouble have I caused you with Mr. Calvert?”
“I can handle my own business, thank you. Point taken.” Coen shifted his weight and then ran a hand over his freshly shaved face. This clean look didn’t detract from his good looks in any way, and had her wanting to touch him even more. She certainly wouldn’t do something that wouldn’t be well received, though. “Brettany, it’s not like we both didn’t agree to the boundaries.”
“Ah, that’s right.” Brett held up two gloved fingers in succession to make her point. “No strings. No expectations. I hadn’t realized that included a simple friendship. I would have expected you to at least act cordial. Silly me.”
Brett could admit to slightly blowing her reaction out of proportions. She was highly sensitive at the moment, but that didn’t mean she was weak. He’d treated her as his equal before, and her parents’ presence shouldn’t change that.
“Move, please.” Brett stepped around him when it was clear he wasn’t going to shift away from the front door. His loud sigh was unmistakable. It didn’t surprise her when he grabbed his jacket and followed behind. “Is that woman who took your place still in the rental house or can’t you answer that question either?”
The crisp air hit her cheeks right before the light breeze instantly caused her eyes to water. The street was still packed with ice and snow, regardless that the snowplow had been through numerous times spreading sand. It was quiet out here, unlike inside with the low murmurs of conversation and the heat running nonstop. Not even the birds were chirping. It was like nature understood the severity of the situation and was waiting for something to happen with bated breath.
“Brettany.” Coen wrapped a hand around her upper arm and brought her to a stop before she could leave her porch. He was unapologetic as his dark gaze met hers. “My first concern has always been your safety. Did you know that your father’s first reaction was to pack your bags and take you far away from here to California? I don’t blame him, but your parents can’t act on what they believe is your best interest. Me giving gruesome details about how Eyles was repeatedly stabbed until he bled out and then having his flesh carved from his body certainly wouldn’t help matters, either. You don’t need those details to feel safe.”
“My parents have every right to be concerned, but I’m an adult and I make my own decisions. I didn’t abdicate that right to you when we had sex.” Brett wasn’t backing down from this. “What exactly did your team find at the police department?”
Coen let his hand drop as he shook his head, either in wonderment at her tenacity or in frustration that she wouldn’t just sit back quietly while every decision was made for her. Was she scared or frustrated? Absolutely, on both counts. She didn’t want to be tortured and then killed, all because Shepherd Moss was trying to make some point that only he completely understood. But she wouldn’t lie down and let it happen without a fight for her right to be who she was.
“The officer on duty last night is known for taking sleeping breaks between two and three hundred hours while the other deputies are out of the building on their patrols.” Coen shoved his hands in his pocket. The bitte
r temperature was starting to settle over them, and the cold wasn’t so pleasant. “Someone was well aware of his sleeping schedule…someone from this town.”
“Officer May?” Brett winced at the thought of Travis losing his job. He was in his late fifties and on the verge of retiring anyway. “Everyone in town knows that he sleeps on the job, but that’s because he helps take care of his grandchildren during the day. His daughter is an alcoholic and isn’t the most responsible mother. He does the best he can, everyone knows that.”
“There has to be consequences for allowing a man to be killed on his watch. He had a prisoner he was responsible for who died a horrible death. That tells me he can’t uphold the responsibility of the job to which he was assigned.” Coen shifted back on the heels of his boots, most likely to keep moving for his circulation. “We did have luck with the security feeds, but the perp was dressed in all black…including a ski mask that covered his face. Therefore, all we have is his general height and build.”
“And the third call?” Brett was putting together his conversations with the information he was feeding her. Granted, he’d told her the truth when he said that nothing had turned up that would help her situation. They still didn’t know who killed Heidi or Martin. “What did you find out that had you walking out of the kitchen?”
“Danny was processed and brought in front of a judge this morning for violating his parole.” Coen took the soup container from her arms and started for the neighbor’s house. The last phone call had been personal. “Go back inside. I’ll take care of this.”
Honest Intentions (The Safeguard Series, Book Five) Page 14
