Deadly Deception (SCVC Taskforce) (32 page)

Thomas still held her hand, but her feet froze and she pulled up sharp, stopping him in his tracks. The pictures hanging on the wall looked ghostly in the illumination of the flashlight. Shadows jumped here and there.

“What’s the matter?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. I just need…a moment.”

“Okay.” He waited, watching her. “If this is bothering you…being in here…I can handle it on my own.”

“No, I, uh…” Damn it. She had to get her shit together.

But her feet wouldn’t move. What the hell was wrong with her?

“Ronni…”

“I don’t know how I saved Adam the first time,” she blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind. She wanted to turn around and run back down the stairs and out of the house, but maybe if she admitted her deepest, darkest fear, she could overcome this paralysis. “And I sure as hell don’t know how I’m going to save him this time.”

Thomas lowered the flashlight. She could see the outline of his features in the glow. “What do you mean, you don’t know how you saved him?”

She looked down the long hallway, Adam’s office and bedroom was on one side, Kristine’s, and Melanie’s on the other. A memory of the siege threatened to close off her chest. She held it at bay. This was the exact opposite of Wrightsville, so why was she freezing up?

There were no guns firing, no tanks knocking down buildings.

Only her and Thomas.

Still, memories were a funny thing. She could block them from her mind, but her body reacted anyway. That was seemingly why she couldn’t move.

The memory surged, demanding to be told. She gripped Thomas’s hand a little tighter. “I got to the bus with Adam. It was mostly buried underground as a tornado refuge, and the last day of the siege, a bunch of women took the children there to protect them. Later, that afternoon, my mother handed Adam to me and sent me to the bus when it looked like all was lost. I’d never been so scared, running across the compound, my eyes stinging from the teargas and fires…”

She was standing in the middle of it again in her mind. It was so real, her skin burned.

Thomas put his face directly in front of hers. “Ronni?”

She snapped out of it, shook her head to clear her senses. “Sorry. It’s just…I don’t know what happened.”

His eyebrows raised in question.

She blew out a long breath. Steeled herself. “I got to the bus and teargas pellets started raining down around us. The women and children who were inside the bus—they’d already been gassed and were screaming and fighting to get out, so I couldn’t take Adam in there. But I couldn’t stay outside because the bad men were coming and the fires were raging. I remember everything up to that point…and then it’s a black hole. Somehow I saved Adam. At least that’s what the FBI told me. I just don’t remember doing it.”

And now, after all this, I wonder if they lied.

Obviously some of the information in her files gathered by Bureau agents on Adam was false. Maybe rescuing him was false too.

Thomas grabbed her hand again, offered a reassuring squeeze. “Traumatic situation. You blotted it out of your memory. It’s a common thing for survivors to do.”

Survivor. She hated that word. To her ears, it sounded too much like victim.

There was no reason she should have survived and she’d never accepted the idea she was a hero for saving Adam. She couldn’t even remember doing it. “Sometimes I’ve wondered…”

Was she really going to admit this?

“Wondered what? You can tell me.”

Please don’t laugh
. “I’ve wondered if it was…
God
who saved Adam and me that day.”

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t say a word. Just drew her into his arms and stroked the back of her hair. “I don’t know much about God, but what I do know is that you’re a fighter and you’re still here and swinging. That’s all that matters.”

Ronni wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

I hope you’re right.

The tightness in her chest loosened. Her scar stopped burning. In Thomas’s arms, she didn’t have to think, just be. Accept his comfort.

God, I love this man.

The thought jarred her. “Thomas, I…”

“It’s okay. No worries. Why don’t you stay here and I’ll go through Adam’s stuff on my own.”

“It’s not that. I need to tell you something.”

“Something else about the siege?”

“About you and me.”

He shifted her so he could look in her face. “You’re not bailing on me, are you?”

“Kinda the opposite, actually.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think I’m falling for you.”

He laughed then, full and deep. “The old Boy Scout charm did you in, didn’t it, my pretty chameleon?”

She smacked his arm. “I’m sharing an emotional moment with you and you’re making fun.”

“Never.” He drew her to him and kissed her deeply. “I’ve been crazy for you since the first time I saw your apricot hair in Des Moines. I only tease you because you really,
really
need to lighten up and have some fun.”

He did bring fun into her life. “Maybe you’re right.”

After a moment, they broke apart and Ronni found she could move her feet again. Thomas led her down the hallway.

She wanted to say something, to thank him for understanding, for making her feel better than she’d felt in months, but she sensed she didn’t need to tell him. He already knew.

The door to Adam’s office was unlocked, and Thomas entered first, snatching up his cell phone from the desk. Without saying a word, the two of them used the adjoining door to enter Adam’s bedroom.

The drugs had been confiscated. A few markers had been placed on the nightstand to denote where various objects had been. The nightstand’s drawer hung open and another marker lay inside. Thomas made quick work of examining under the bed and inside the closet without disturbing anything. “Looks the same as the other day.”

“Did we miss the Walther or was it just not here?”

“Could be either.”

She wished they’d examined the room more thoroughly the first time, but that was water under the bridge.

“Do you want to see the crime scene?”

“Yes,” she lied.

Kristine wasn’t the usual nameless, unknown victim of a crime she was investigating. Ronni had known her. They’d eaten dinner together, talked about things over dishwashing duty. The woman had meant something to Adam and might have been carrying Ronni’s niece or nephew. Stepping across the hall, ignoring the crime scene tape draped across the bedroom door, and entering the room, sent chills racing along Ronni’s arms.

Thomas did a slow sweep of the bed. The crime scene techs had confiscated the sheets and pillows, but there was still blood that had seeped into the mattress.

“Her body was positioned here.” He made a general outline with his hands. “She was shot from behind, either as she turned her back on her killer, or he pushed her down and shot her in the back of the head. My guess is the latter. That way, he could hold her down, shove the pillow to her skull, and pull the trigger. A Walther is small and doesn’t make a lot of noise. By adding the pillow, the killer reduced the sound enough to make it almost unnoticeable outside the house. But Kristine was lying on her back, as if the killer flipped her over after he did the deed.”

Her stomach threatened to revolt. She swallowed hard, tried to detach herself. “Making sure she was dead?”

“Or he wanted to see her face in death.”

Her stomach flip-flopped again. Some killers—especially the personal ones—needed that closure. Needed to see their victim’s face after they’d snuffed out their life.

Could Adam be so coldhearted?

Could Lance?

“We’ve been focused on my brother and Lance. Anyone else pinging your radar?”

Thomas nodded. “Jacob.”

“He’s a cop.”

“Maybe a dirty one.” Thomas walked to the window, glanced outside. “What’s his motive?”

“With all the lies and secrets around here, who knows? I suspected he might be behind the gunrunning and drugs, but now…”

“Okay, let’s throw a few ideas out. Maybe it was
his
baby. Maybe Kristine had been sleeping with him.”

“Melanie
and
Kristine? Busy guy.”

“The kill was too precise for Adam, and Lance claims he’s never held a gun. If we take the two of them out of the picture, Jacob makes for the perfect suspect. LAPD, possible Army experience, unless he made that up for his cover identity. Either way, he has extensive firearm training. He’s having an affair with Melanie and could be using her—with her consent—to run guns, prescription drugs, and money through her salon and this farm.”

“And if he gets caught, he can claim it was all
her
operation. Nice cover.”

Thomas turned from the window, studied the bed again. “But why kill Kristine and bring heat on them? The last thing he’d want is to put the farm in the spotlight with law enforcement.”

“And the media.” Ronni yawned. She’d had too few hours of sleep and too much nonstop adrenaline, which was now draining off. “How soon before they show up?”

“I’m sure Coop and Dupé are pressuring the sheriff to keep a lid on this as long as possible, but my guess is the media will get hold of the story by lunchtime tomorrow.”

Ronni swayed on her feet. “We need to have a look at the honey house and that path the delivery truck took.”

“While I’d love nothing better than to take you back to the honey house,”—Thomas moved to stand in front of her—“we’ll check it out tomorrow morning before breakfast. Right now, you need sleep. You’re dead on your feet.”

“But what if Jacob’s the killer?”

He drew her into an embrace. “I’ll keep tabs on him.”

They left the house and walked in silence to the women’s quarters. Thomas kissed her long and deep before he jogged off toward the men’s quarters.

Ronni watched until he was out of sight. She’d never been in love before. A few crushes here and there, but love?

Her old buddy, Murphy, laughed inside her head. Of course, she’d fall for her partner…

Chapter Thirty-four

Early the next morning, Thomas showered and dressed before anyone was up, snagged his freshly charged phone, and headed for the honey house.

The grass was wet with dew. Fog hung in the air. He’d stayed on guard most of the night, keeping an eye on Jacob’s door and running through a dozen possible murder scenarios. The truth was, there were a lot of potential killers on the farm and too many possible motives. He and Ronni hadn’t been there long enough to get to know the majority of the people or all the dramas playing out day and night behind closed doors. Because of that, his body buzzed with anticipation, even though he’d slept little. He might not be able to solve the murder, but he was going to find those damn guns. Or whatever Jacob was hiding.

He walked in silence. East, near the house, a rooster crowed. The sun wasn’t up yet and probably wouldn’t cut through the fog for another hour or so. Hopefully, Ronni was still asleep and he’d find some sort of evidence before she arrived. They’d wrap up their case and leave the murder investigation to the locals.

The honey house was dark and in disarray from the previous day’s encounter with Lance. Thomas picked up a tool from the floor, placed it on the table. Memories of Ronni spreading her legs for him flooded his mind. He wanted more of her…physically, mentally, emotionally…and she was coming around. He just hoped their relationship could survive the outside, everyday world. Which was ass-backward. The outside, everyday world should be a breeze to conquer after being undercover inside a cult.

He’d failed Ronni in Des Moines, but not here. Not this time. Keeping her safe was his first priority. Then, he was either going to clear Adam’s name or find the evidence to charge him.

But Ronni’s life wasn’t in danger at the moment. Lance and Adam were tied up for a while, and even a dirty cop—if that’s what Jacob was—would think twice about harming a federal agent.

So he’d let her sleep and see if he could find whatever had been delivered by the white truck. The sooner they got out of here, the sooner he could take her back to his place and ravish her again.

The honey house was nothing more than a shack. Hard to hide anything substantial there.

The floor was old pine wood planks, stained and gouged by years of use. Thomas grabbed the tool from the table. It was fashioned like a small crowbar and about the same weight. It even had a flat end like one. He slammed his heels on various spots of wood, trying to find a plank that sounded hollow.

Nothing. No hidden crevices or crawl spaces. No hidden loot. He even pried up a few of the floorboards just to be sure.

Leaving the tool, he went outside and jogged west, looking for the hidden path the truck, and Ronni, had used.

It took some searching, but he found a trail that circled around the far end of the property, hidden from the main area by pines, overgrown bushes and grass. After fighting through a mass of tangled branches that acted as a natural blockade, he followed the trail, and two dozen yards south, discovered a place where it widened considerably. In the distance, he heard the drone of an engine.