by Kylie Brant
“You mentioned it yesterday.” Miguel sounded half-asleep. She slanted a glance at him to make sure his eyes were open. “Again, revenge for what? Aldeen has no contacts in this area we know of. And Sutton blowing up Preston’s car was just cutting a loose thread. Like Aldeen shooting Bush.”
She’d spent enough time debating the issue in her head. Miguel had just articulated the counterarguments she’d already considered. But still . . .
“Keep your eyes open,” she advised, a sudden thought striking her. Cady turned and reached into the back seat and rummaged through the case notes she’d brought with her. Settling back behind the wheel, she looked through the file until she found the notes on Sheila Preston. Something was niggling at the back of her mind. Something she’d missed earlier.
A half hour later she found it. “Remember the drug arrest on Preston’s record?”
“For possession.” He didn’t take his gaze off the scene across the street. “If you needed a reminder, you could’ve just asked.”
“And the charges got dropped. The date of her arrest was three months before Sutton’s. And he spent a long stretch in prison after his trial.”
Miguel’s brows raised. “I’m waiting to be illuminated.”
“What if”—Cady pounded her fist lightly on the wheel—“Sheila Preston lied to us yesterday?”
“An accomplice to a dangerous felon’s escape was untruthful. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from the shock.”
“No one likes a smart-ass, Miguel.”
“You would certainly know.” He was silent for a moment. “What’d she lie about?”
“She said she hadn’t seen Sutton since they’d worked at Cisco’s. We’re expected to believe he just happened to remember someone he worked with for a few months twenty-three years ago? David Sutton collected women back then, from what we’ve heard. But Preston wouldn’t have been the type to catch his eye. Not flashy enough.”
Miguel sat up straighter in his seat. “So they got reacquainted in the intervening time.”
“Yeah, they did. Charges can get dropped for a number of reasons. Being a cooperating witness against a dealer is one of them.”
“Okay. She didn’t reveal that because . . . ?”
Verbalizing her supposition just made Cady more certain. “The arrest is still on record, but so is the fact that the charges were dropped. Sheila’s free to spin an explanation to friends. Her employers. Coworkers. She can claim the police learned the drugs weren’t hers. A case of mistaken identity.” Cady waved a hand. The possibilities were endless.
“Yesterday at the hospital you said you thought she was telling the truth,” he pointed out.
“I thought she was credible. But when you tell a lie long enough it becomes your reality. Do you think she’s going to tell her girls what really happened?”
“Maybe it’s not a lie.” Miguel reached for the water bottle in the holder nearest him and unscrewed the cap. Took a swig. “We don’t know yet why the charges were dismissed. Where are you going with this?”
“The revenge phrase on the back of the map we found.” The more Cady considered her argument, the more convinced she became. “And the addresses. I looked them up. Sheila’s house. Her sister’s and mother’s. And an Outer Banks beach property listed in the Neves’ name.” The last revelation had Miguel freezing in the act of lifting the bottle to his lips again. “Revenge explains what’s keeping Sutton and Aldeen in the area.”
“Your theory only implicates Sutton.”
Cady grabbed her cell and began searching through her contacts. “As far as we know, they’re still together. And we might be overlooking the specific reason for that.”
Forty minutes later, she disconnected her call. Bureaucratic red tape was real even for federal agents. She could only imagine how bad it was for regular citizens. “The Mecklenburg County prosecutor who handled Preston’s case just confirmed it. Sheila Preston gave evidence against Sutton. He went to prison. She continued on with her life.”
Miguel grabbed the file still spread on her lap. “Do you have Julie Neve’s contact information in there?”
“Let’s hope so.” Cady glanced out the window as the owner of the car lot walked by, making a Hollywood-worthy production of not looking in their direction. “Because she has to be warned. She needs to get her nieces to safety.”
“Yes, Marshal, I’m at the hospital.” Julie’s voice was low. “What’s wrong?”
“Who’s watching your nieces?”
“My husband. Why?”
Cady slid a glance at Miguel. “Are they at your home in Mecklenburg?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to alarm you unduly. But until we have David Sutton in custody, I think it would be best if your husband took them somewhere no one would think to look for them.”
There was a silence. Then . . . “Just a minute.” Cady could hear the murmur of voices in the background. A distant beep of the machines they’d seen near Sheila Preston’s bed. After a few moments Julie was back. “I needed to leave the room. I don’t want to upset my sister. The doctors just left.” She sounded as though she was fighting back tears. “She has to have immediate surgery. Something ruptured and there’s internal bleeding . . .” A sob erupted. “I have to be here. But the girls need someone too. That’s why Andrew stayed home.”
Cady’s voice softened. “I’m sorry to hear about your sister. You’re right. She needs support right now. Can I get your husband’s number?” Sounding rattled, the other woman recited it. Cady wrote it on the front of the file still on her lap. “I want you to text him and tell him I’ll be calling.” Most people didn’t pick up a call from an unfamiliar number. Even fewer when USMS showed in the caller ID.
“Yes. I’ll do it now.” Julie’s voice sounded stronger. “I’ll text you afterwards, so you’ll know I’ve made contact.”
“Thank you. I hope things go well with the surgery.”
“So do I. Her little girls need their mom.”
When they’d disconnected, Cady relayed Julie’s side of the conversation to Miguel. His mouth flattened when he heard of Sheila’s condition. “If it’s revenge Sutton is after, sounds like he’s already exacted it.”
“Possibly.” But it was equally likely the man wouldn’t be satisfied until the woman’s entire family was destroyed.
It was nearly an hour later before Julie Neve got back to her. The call was short. It was hard to miss the underlying panic in the woman’s voice. Afterward, Cady told Miguel, “They’re taking Preston into surgery now. Julie’s husband hasn’t answered her texts. I’m going to contact the CMPD to send a car to their house.”
Miguel was silent for a few moments. When he spoke, it was with a note of resignation in his voice. “You want to go to Mecklenburg, don’t you?”
“Neve’s husband could have taken the girls to the park. His phone might be dead.” There were any number of reasons for the man to not answer his wife’s calls.
“Exactly.”
“Except . . .”
“There’s always an ‘except’ with you,” Miguel muttered.
Cady turned in her seat to face him. “I still think Sutton is going to return to the motel if he can. But he’s probably not stupid enough to do it in broad daylight. They haven’t managed to stay free this long by being careless.”
“Unless he’s desperate.”
She nodded. That was true as well. The daily media coverage of this case had been continuous. After the murder this morning, it would be nonstop, making it increasingly difficult for either Sutton or Aldeen to easily secure another vehicle. As far as the men knew, the car at the motel was still anonymous.
Miguel was silent for a long time. Finally, he heaved a sigh. “You’re like a bomb waiting to detonate. By the time we get there, the CMPD will have already tracked Neve down and we’ll have wasted a trip.”
Sensing her partner was wavering, Cady seized the advantage. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a chat advising Andrew
Neve on how best to keep the girls safe. He can’t take them to the beach house. He needs to select a new location.”
This time it was Miguel’s turn to pick up his cell. “Fine. I’ll call the command center and get a couple of replacements for us.”
His words brought a surge of relief. Cady couldn’t concentrate on anything else until she was certain Preston’s daughters were hidden away in a place Sutton couldn’t find them.
Julie Neve arrived shortly after Cady and Miguel got to her home. A CMPD officer who’d been called to the house had already canvassed the neighborhood. None of the people they’d spoken to had seen Andrew Neve leave in the morning. While the officer joined Julie and Miguel on a walk-through of the house, Cady hung back. The woman had left her car in the driveway. Cady pulled latex gloves from one coat pocket and donned them before lowering herself to the ground cautiously. Some of her soreness had eased, but it was still a struggle to roll to her back and scoot her body under the vehicle.
It took a few minutes, but she finally saw exactly what she’d feared she’d find. Reaching up, she jerked the monitoring device free and began to wiggle out from under the car.
“If you’re checking the oil, you’re in the wrong place.” Miguel’s voice sounded somewhere above her.
“You’re hilarious.” It was a struggle, but she finally managed to shimmy free. She took his hand as he pulled her to her feet, biting back a groan as she rose. She wondered how long it would be before she could bend in any direction without pain.
In the next moment, she thought of Sheila Preston lying in the Charlotte hospital. Cady had gotten lucky. She’d be wise to remember it.
She held up the tracker to show him, flipping it over so he could see the magnetic back. “Damn.” He looked in the direction of the house again, where the officer and Julie were coming out the door. “Looks like you figured it right.”
“You must have thought there was a chance, or you wouldn’t have agreed to head this way.” It defied belief that anyone other than David Sutton had planted the tracker.
“I didn’t notice any clothes or suitcases missing,” Julie said as she approached them. “And Andrew’s phone was still in its charger. He never forgets it. But it was a chaotic morning for all of us.” She frowned as she came closer and saw the gadget in Cady’s hand. “What’s that?”
Cady held it out to show her. “It’s a monitoring device. Whoever planted it would have been able to trace your car’s movements.”
An expression of bewilderment chased over Julie’s face. “But . . . why?”
“The CMPD bomb squad found small remnants of a similar gadget on your sister’s car,” Cady explained. “The person who planted the bomb used it to keep track of where she was.”
Her words elicited an instant flood of tears. Understandable, Cady figured, given the day the woman had had. The emotional storm passed quickly. With apparent effort, Julie wiped her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Sorry. There was too much today. Sheila’s stable, for now. And hearing how that animal found her . . . why would he want to keep track of me? Oh.” Comprehension filtered across her expression. “Is it . . . he can’t be . . .”
“We don’t know he’s near this area.”
The woman raised a shaking finger to point at the street. “Oh, thank God. Andrew’s home.”
Cady and Miguel stepped aside to allow the car to swing into the driveway. She looked in the back seat of the vehicle they’d driven and found an evidence bag. Dropping the device in it, Cady labeled the bag and set it on the seat before turning back to her partner. “If we find another tracker on his car,” Miguel said in a low tone, “you can bet there’s one on Cindy Preston’s vehicle too.”
She nodded, watching Julie run to embrace her husband when he got out of the vehicle. Children spilled out of it. The Neves had two, she recalled. So did Sheila. “The entire family needs to lay low until he’s in custody.”
That suggestion, as it turned out, met with some resistance. Fifteen minutes later, the CMPD officer gone and the children dispatched to another part of the house, Cady and Miguel sat at the couple’s kitchen table. “You stay with your sister,” Andrew Neve was telling his wife. “I’ll take all four of the kids to the beach house.”
“How would you entertain them there at this time of year?” Julie tried a smile. “You had to spend all day at the mall and the movies today to keep the girls occupied until our kids got out of school. OBX is almost deserted when it turns cold.”
OBX. Short for the Outer Banks. It took a moment for Cady to make the connection. “We found a second device on your car, Andrew. Sutton has been tracking your movements too. I’m afraid the beach house is out of the question. We know Sutton has its address. Stay away from anything familiar. Go to a place you’ve never been before.”
“I’ll bet the kids would love a hotel with an indoor water park,” Miguel put in. “It’s just for a few days.” Hopefully. His unspoken word hung in the air between them.
“I’ll look for a place online. We’ll all go.”
But Julie was shaking her head at her husband’s assertion. “I’m not leaving Sheila. And neither will Mom. The hospital will accommodate us. There’s space for us to sleep in her room. We’ll be safe there with the guard right outside.”
Miguel and Cady looked at each other. “It should be fine as long as neither of you leaves the hospital. Not even for a few minutes.” It was hard to imagine Sutton would be capable of carrying out his plans for revenge while he was on the run. Cady had checked the latest task force update on the way to Charlotte. This morning’s victim had been identified, as had his vehicle. Someone—somewhere—had to report a sighting eventually.
But there was a reason the men had remained in the state. And Cady couldn’t forget the statement scrawled on the paper they’d found in Sutton’s motel room.
They didn’t leave until the Neves had finalized their plans. Julie supplied a description of her mother’s car before they left. Cady swung by the hospital before leaving Charlotte. Miguel retrieved the GPS tracker they’d been certain would be on Cindy’s car and placed it in yet another evidence bag. “We need to stop at the office to drop these off,” he said as she left the lot.
Cady nodded. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Depends on what the updates say. I figure I’ll get some sleep, which was in short supply last night, check with the task force, and go where I’m needed. Good thing Gant authorized overtime on this investigation. We’re racking up the hours. How about you?”
Cady was still trying to work it out. She’d missed spending last Saturday with her mom. She was reluctant to skip another. “I have something in the morning. I can join you later.”
He nodded. They’d play it by ear. And hope like hell something broke on the case soon.
They were halfway back to Asheville when Cady’s cell rang. The number was unfamiliar. But given the circumstances surrounding this investigation, she answered it anyway, her mind still filled with the Preston family.
“Deputy US Marshal Maddix.”
“It’s Eryn Pullman.”
Miguel must have seen the shock on her expression. He mouthed, Who?
“Eryn. Hello.”
“Would you be able to stop by today? I remembered something. At least, I think I did. I don’t know what it means, really . . .”
“Yes, of course.” Cady glanced at the clock on the dash. “It might take me a couple of hours.” She could swing by the house before heading to her own.
“All right. I’ll be waiting.” The call ended.
“Eryn . . . Pullman?” Miguel guessed. “Any chance this is about Aldeen?”
“I have no idea.” After the last time she’d talked to the girl—and her uncle—Cady had figured pursuing the Aurora Pullman angle was a dead end. But she was intrigued enough by the call to gladly make the trip to see the girl again.
It was nearly eight o’clock before Cady drove through the open Pullman
Estate gates. When she got out of the car and walked up to the front door, it opened before she could knock.
“Come in.” Eryn stepped aside for Cady to enter before shutting the door behind her. “I want to show you something.”
Mystified, Cady followed the girl through the home. She glanced into the study she’d been shown to the last time she was here. Found it dark. There was no one in the large living area they walked through, either. “Where’s the rest of the family?”
“My uncle and his wife took my cousin to a movie. Mary Jane is spending the weekend with her sister near Asheville. She’s not a relative. She’s . . .” Seeming unable to come up with a description, Eryn shrugged. “She’s been with the family forever.”
“So you’re all by yourself in this big house?” Cady asked jokingly.
But the girl’s voice was sober when she answered. “I don’t mind. And I’m not really alone with the deputies outside. The family will be home soon.” Eryn led her down a different hallway lined with doors. She opened one and flipped on the light. Cady could see it was a bedroom. “I’m sorry. I would have brought it out, but it’s pretty heavy.” Eryn gestured to an unframed picture leaning against the wall beneath a set of windows.
Cady knew nothing about art. In this case, she didn’t need to. A sense of brutality leaped from the canvas, as much in the colors and bold strokes as the scene they depicted. Fascinated, she walked farther into the room to get a closer look. It would be difficult to remain unmoved by the pain portrayed in the work. The raw emotion. After studying it for a few more moments, she raised her gaze to meet Eryn’s. “Did you paint this?”
“No. My mama did. I don’t recall ever seeing it before. I found it earlier today when I was in the attic going through some of her pieces Uncle Bill had stored up there.”
Remembering the explanation Eryn had given for her call earlier, Cady guessed, “Is that your mother in the scene?”
Eryn’s attention returned to the canvas. “I think so,” she whispered. “I think . . . I can almost remember seeing this before. But not in a picture. When it happened. The memory sort of melts away when I try to recall it more clearly.”
