Cold Wicked Lies

by Toni Anderson

  Charlotte made a soft sound of encouragement. Whatever her views, she wasn’t here to agree or disagree with this woman. She wanted to create some rapport and milk her for information, which was a little calculating, but that was how she got things done.

  “The people who decided they were in charge of organizing others are a bunch of autocratic know-it-alls who like delegating tasks to the point they do very little actual work themselves.” The woman’s indrawn breath was a shudder that shook her shoulders. “They remind me so much of my ex-husband, I almost left a dozen times.”

  “I’m sorry.” Charlotte touched her arm in sympathy. “Perhaps you could give me some of their names so I can question them?”

  Judith’s mouth curved into a smile. “I’d be delighted.”

  Charlotte wrote down all the names to give to the analysts.

  Some people were packing up to leave. Charlotte needed to question them all. But she wanted more particulars on camp dynamics and, more importantly, she needed to know about Brenna. “Anything you can tell me about the girls would be a help. Do you know where they came from?”

  “Why?” Judith asked suspiciously.

  “We were hoping to inform next of kin rather than have them hear about it on the news.”

  A look of shame swept over Judith’s features. She covered her face with her hands. “Of course.” She swallowed convulsively. “I used to be a nice person, I swear. A trusting fool. I’ve been fighting big business and corruption for so long now I’ve become secretive and distrustful of authority, a bit like those people holed up inside that compound.”

  “Did you ever encounter them?”

  Judith shrugged. “I encountered men in the woods. They could have been hikers or even from the logging company, but I don’t think so.” She shivered. “It was the way they looked at me…” She stamped her sturdy boots on the hard ground. “They never smiled or exchanged greetings. They always seemed suspicious about what I was doing there, although it was none of their damn business.”

  A frigid gust of wind swept across the campsite, fluttering the tent canvases like sails on a boat. Charlotte glanced up at the milky gray sky and hoped it didn’t snow. She also wished she had more than a fleece hoodie to keep warm.

  Judith turned red-rimmed eyes up to the sky. “Brenna and Kayla are both good-natured girls. I’m pretty sure Brenna was the older sister, but they never said they were related. Only friends. They told people they were planning to visit Death Valley over Thanksgiving, but now I’m not convinced they ever left.” A crinkle pinched the woman’s gray brows. “I always felt as if they were hiding from something, but then that’s how I feel about a lot of people here, even the professor.”

  She nodded toward the man Novak had been talking to earlier, who was busy efficiently packing up his tent.

  “He’s one of the Bigfoot enthusiasts.” Judith bit her lip as if that was a confession.

  “Are you a believer?” Charlotte asked.

  “I never used to be. But Alan can be very persuasive.”

  Charlotte’s brows hiked. Sounded like they had been close. “Was anyone here particularly friendly with Brenna and Kayla?”

  Judith pursed her lips. “Not really. I hadn’t realized it until now, but they kept very much to themselves. They were polite and always came to protests and attended meetings, but they spent a lot of time in their tent, or in the woods, nature watching. Brenna had a nice SLR camera she took everywhere with her.”

  Charlotte wondered if the camera was somewhere in the tent or if Brenna had it up on the mountain. Charlotte remembered the report that had dragged the wildlife officer out here.

  “Any mention of a problem cougar being in the area?”

  “Aside from me?” Judith snorted out a laugh then grew serious. “They’re around, but we haven’t had any serious run-ins with the wildlife out here. We’re careful with food supplies and trash.” She indicated the bear-proof garbage containers near the road.

  “When did you last see Brenna or Kayla, aside from today?”

  The woman thought about it. “I spotted Brenna coming back with some groceries on Tuesday morning.”

  It was now Thursday.

  “Which is her car?” Charlotte asked.

  “The blue Toyota hybrid.” Judith started wringing her hands. “I should have come over and asked if they were all right. Offered them some food or a warm drink. I’m so used to everyone being self-sufficient that I’ve stopped asking if people need help. What sort of human being does that make me?”

  Normal. Charlotte touched her arm. “I am sure you were kind. Kindness counts a lot more than anyone realizes.”

  The woman snuffled. “I suppose. I think I’m going to leave now. I think we’ll all leave.” Sadness hung heavy in the air. “The logging company finally got what it wanted. A pity it took a dead woman and two injured law enforcement officials.” The woman tilted her head. “Ironic that the FBI wouldn’t have come because Brenna died. The sheriff certainly wouldn’t have cared. Her murder would have been added to all the other dead women in the world no one cares about.”

  “Other women?” Was that a general statement about the number of unsolved murders or something more specific? “Do you believe there’s a serial killer operating in this area?”

  “No.” Judith crossed her arms tightly over her flat chest and shuddered. “Not that I know of anyway. It’s a commentary on the number of missing and murdered indigenous women who no one seems to give a damn about.”

  “I care,” Charlotte said firmly. “I’ve always cared. That’s why I joined the FBI.” She needed the woman to know she wasn’t some government drone. But the FBI did not investigate murder under normal circumstances, that was left to local jurisdictions. “I do appreciate you being so candid with me. Would you be willing to give me your phone number and address so I can get in touch with you if I have follow-up questions?” They held each other’s gaze for a moment.

  After a long beat, the woman gave her the information but looked annoyed now. “I suppose I’ll be added to the system as some sort of subversive now.”

  “The FBI isn’t looking to take away people’s constitutional rights. I am interested in figuring out exactly what happened to Brenna.” Charlotte handed her a business card. “Please, call me if you remember anything. Or if you have any trouble anywhere—assuming you didn’t cause it,” she added with smile.

  Judith slipped the card into her fanny pack as a black Suburban arrived, and four HRT operators climbed out, looking like badasses.

  Judith fanned her cheeks. “Well, if I’m ever going to be arrested, I want to be arrested by them. They’re hotties, though not as hunky as that man you showed up with.” A dimple hit her cheek as she smiled. “Twenty years ago, I’d have given him a run for his money.”

  Charlotte’s lower jaw dropped, but the woman walked away. Charlotte hadn’t really noticed Payne Novak as sex god material. Except when he was naked. And when Fontaine had ogled the guy like he was a hot fudge sundae, and she was on a low-carb diet.

  “What would you like us to do first, SSA Blood?” one HRT operator asked when he reached her side.

  Charlotte blinked away the image of Novak wearing only his skin.

  “ASAC McKenzie is sending an Evidence Response Team here ASAP to process this tent and the blue Toyota. In the meantime, interview the people packing up. Ask them for names and addresses and match it to vehicle license plates. Ask if they had any knowledge of Brenna and Kayla, the women in this yellow tent and ask when was the last time they saw either woman. And ask if they were on the mountain on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning.”

  “Anything else, SSA Blood?”

  “Yes.” She met the intensely serious stare of the HRT operator. “Call me Charlotte.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter Twelve

  TJ could barely keep his eyes open as he sat in a plastic chair in the corner of the room.

  “Go get some sleep, son.” His father’s
hand landed heavily on his shoulder and squeezed.

  TJ shook his head and sat up. “I want to stay here so I know what’s going on.” He absently rubbed his thumb on the grip of his pistol.

  Tom put his hands on his hips and stretched out his back. “You need to rest at some point, you were up all night. Did you eat yet?”

  TJ shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” How could he eat when he’d lost the girl he loved and brought shame on the family name and danger to them all? He’d watched the ticker tape scroll across the bottom of the news screens all night long. His and his dad’s names emblazoned on every television channel, even though the only thing Tom Harrison had ever wanted to do was to fly under the radar.

  “You haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday morning. You have to keep your strength up.” Tom smiled patiently.

  TJ blew out a tired breath. He knew it was a waste of energy arguing with his father, and he was relieved his dad was standing staunchly by his side. “Want me to fetch you something?”

  Tom nodded. “Sure. After you’ve eaten bring me a bowl of soup and a hunk of bread back here.”

  TJ nodded. He knew it was a ploy to get him into the canteen. It wouldn’t make him feel any more hungry. The idea of food made him nauseous.

  He slipped out of the room, aware of the silent disapproval from the other two men watching the surveillance feeds with his father. Outside the door, in the main corridor that ran around the lower level of the complex, TJ glanced right, toward his and his dad’s living quarters.

  Even though he was exhausted down to his marrow, he wouldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Kayla’s translucent skin and inky black hair as she’d lain there in the dirt. He shook away the shudder as he remembered the sensation of her cool lifeless skin beneath his fingers, and guilt roared through him. How could he have been repelled by the woman he loved? How could he have left her? How could he have run?

  He didn’t know. He’d made so many mistakes. He hadn’t even started to process her loss yet. He was still in a state of shock and fear.

  He turned left and numbly climbed a flight of concrete steps to the communal kitchen area. His father had bought their home from a guy who’d been sure the Cold War had been going to go nuclear. It hadn’t. The old man had died of cancer, too paranoid to receive radiotherapy treatment. He’d been another of TJ’s mom’s million cousins, and TJ’s dad had gotten this place for a song because it was so remote.

  The corridor was wider on this level, and TJ forced himself to walk slowly down the hallway. He knew everyone who lived here and got on with most people, with the exception of his uncle who always found fault with everything he did.

  This morning no one was meeting his gaze. The room went quiet as he entered. His smile faltered. One woman scooped a little girl back into her arms as the child rushed toward him.

  The choking sensation in his throat threatened to expand and cut off his airway, but he ignored it and calmly grabbed a tray, placed a bowl of soup and bread roll on it, along with a glass of water and an apple. Realizing he had no desire to come back here any time soon, he added another serving of everything.

  “Don’t be greedy. We’re on rations here in case you didn’t notice,” the cook told him sharply.

  TJ flinched. He’d never been accused of being greedy in his life. Then he’d never been accused of murder either.

  “I’m taking my father his lunch as well as fetching my own. I assume you don’t object to that, considering you’re standing in his kitchen?”

  The woman pinched her lips and looked away. “Of course not. Tell Tom I can send a tray down anytime he needs anything.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention it.” The disapproval he felt in his wake was a frosty breath against his back. He gripped the tray tighter as he negotiated the stairs back to the surveillance room.

  Two men were talking in the corridor but stopped when they spotted him. They watched him cautiously. One was his uncle, Malcolm.

  TJ tapped on the door of the surveillance room with his foot. “It’s me.”

  Once inside, tension pressed down on him again. The air stirred with all the words spoken in his absence and settled under the weight of disapproval.

  “Here, Dad.” He placed the tray on the desk beside his father.

  “Thanks.” Tom took up the bowl and spoon. Blew on the soup before sipping it. “You not eating?” He nodded pointedly to the other bowl.

  TJ took the soup from the tray but couldn’t bring himself to taste it. He glanced up at the TV screens, expecting to see more of the same continuous news loop. He froze as an image of a woman appeared on screen.

  “Turn that up,” he ordered.

  The man with the controls sent him a sullen glare that his father didn’t miss. Even people who’d known TJ for years thought he’d killed a woman and purposely brought trouble to their door.

  The woman on the screen looked a lot like Kayla, with the same dark hair and general build. But it wasn’t Kayla.

  “The woman found dead on the side of Eagle Mountain sparking an armed standoff between the federal government and an armed militia has been named as one Brenna Longie, originally from Pennsylvania. No details have been released about how she died.”

  The news cycle moved back to the same regurgitated information from earlier, but TJ had one thought whirling around and around in his mind.

  It wasn’t Kayla. It wasn’t Kayla. It wasn’t Kayla.

  She looked so like her… Had the cops made a mistake? Was Kayla dead, but the cops had somehow misidentified her? Put the wrong picture on the television? Was it a trap?

  It didn’t seem likely, which meant Kayla might still be alive.

  Where was she? Why hadn’t she been at their usual meeting place? Was she in danger? Had she told the Feds about the two of them? Did she still want him after everything that had happened? He needed to find out.

  “Son?”

  His father’s voice broke through his whirling thoughts. Obviously, Tom had been trying to get his attention for some time.

  TJ shook his head. The situation here hadn’t changed. The FBI still wanted him for questioning.

  “Son. Do you know that woman?”

  “What? No. I’ve never seen her before yesterday when I found her and even then I didn’t see her face.”

  “From your expression it sure looked like you knew her,” Malcolm said snidely.

  TJ hadn’t seen his uncle enter the room.

  “I swear upon my life I have never seen that poor woman before.”

  Malcolm’s lip curled.

  TJ wanted to punch him, but that would only demonstrate a lack of control and prove his guilt in some people’s eyes.

  “Sure she wasn’t your sweetheart?”

  TJ nailed Malcolm with a narrow stare. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe you snuck out for a little forbidden fruit and accidentally killed her. I know you snuck out most Wednesdays. Seen you a few times.”

  Forbidden fruit? Kayla wasn’t a freaking apple.

  “I said I don’t know the dead woman.” TJ raised his voice as sweat began to coat his skin. Malcolm’s guess was close enough to what happened that the truth could appear damning, even though the conjecture was completely inaccurate. “Are you suggesting I’m lying?”

  Malcolm shrugged, not brave enough to go directly against his father.

  Emotions fought within TJ. Part of him was elated with the possibility Kayla might be alive, but what if she was in danger? Then there was the mystery of whatever had happened to that other woman. Did Brenna Longie know Kayla? Were they related? They sure looked alike, but Kayla had never mentioned a sister. She had mentioned a friend she was traveling with…

  TJ didn’t want to share his thoughts with anyone. He didn’t want Malcolm knowing Kayla existed. Nor the authorities. What if they used her against him? Or worse, against his father?

  He needed to keep Kayla safe, and the best way to do that was to keep her a secret.
>
  A phone rang, and Malcolm pulled a satellite phone out of his jacket pocket. His dad had hooked up a relay inside the building a few years ago to boost the signal underground.

  Malcolm went to answer it, but his father stopped him.

  “You don’t think the Feds are monitoring your calls?” His dad’s expression was reserved, but TJ noticed the slight curl of contempt twisting his lips.

  Malcolm looked at the phone as if it had grown stingers.

  “It’s possible they could use it as a listening device too. I’m not sure what their capabilities are nowadays, but I do know some politicians should be a lot more concerned than they seem to be. You need to destroy it.”

  Malcolm swore and then glanced around. He stuffed the cell back in the pocket of his jacket. “It was expensive.”

  Tom shrugged his shoulders as if all these people didn’t live on his charity. “I’m not saying take a hammer to it. Turn it off and leave it in your quarters in the freezer or under a sweater in your drawer.” He sent a stern glance around the room. “Tell everyone, I want all cells left in bedrooms with the battery and sim cards removed until this is over, even the ones the kids play on. Who was calling you anyway?”

  Malcolm stuttered before spitting the words out, “Probably Grandpa Ray. He’s been calling on and off all morning after watching the news. Wants to know what’s happening.”

  TJ’s mom’s paternal grandfather was still alive. At nearly a hundred, he’d rejected the need to live with them in the bunker. Said he was looking forward to seeing his maker, and he’d be underground soon enough. TJ was beginning to agree with the old man.

  Tom glanced up at the news monitors. “I suspect Grandpa Ray’s got as much idea as the rest of us.”

  A rush of premonition raced over TJ’s skin. “Maybe we should talk to the Feds. Tell them this is all some terrible misunderstanding.” He looked at the phone sitting nearby disconnected from the phone jack.