Fatal Disclosure (17 page)

Betsy shook her head. “He’s never said anything to me about leaving the DEA. Are you sure about that?”

Laura leaned forward and grabbed Betsy’s hand. “I’ve tried to help you see the Mark very few people know while you’ve been here. He’s not happy in his work anymore, and he’s becoming burned out. That’s dangerous for an agent. He’s liable to become careless and think nothing can happen to him. I don’t want him to end up dead like Chet. I can’t lose someone else I love to violence.”

Betsy swallowed back the fear that rushed through her. “I don’t want that, either.”

Laura squeezed her hand tighter. “Then help him, Betsy. Help him find his way to another life.”

Betsy couldn’t think of anything to say that would calm Laura’s concern for Mark, so she smiled and nodded. Laura released her and reached for the piece of cake Mark had cut and passed it to her. The buttery cake almost melted in her mouth and brought to mind Laura’s words about Mark’s sensitive nature.

Over the past few days, Mark had become an enigma to her. She couldn’t quite reconcile the gruff, uncaring Memphis agent she’d known with a man who enjoyed cooking for his family and friends. It was as if the two personalities within him were waging a heated battle to overcome the other. Like Laura, she hoped for the sensitive Mark to emerge the victor, but she had her doubts. His past had put a chokehold on him years ago, and he might never be able to break free.

TWELVE

B
efore leaving Raleigh, Betsy had confided in Laura how she dreaded reentering her studio, and the feeling hadn’t subsided on the journey home. Now she stood in the doorway and scanned the room that had become like her second home. Anyone else entering the studio would be shocked to discover a life-and-death struggle had taken place here a few nights ago. She doubted if she could ever forget the terror she’d felt during those spine-chilling moments.

She concentrated on every detail of the room to see if there was any reminder that crime scene investigators had combed through the area. Everything appeared in order, and Treasury’s staff had cleaned the room from top to bottom. The broken window had even been replaced in her absence. She inhaled deeply and started to enter, but the sound of the front door closing downstairs stopped her in her tracks.

The now familiar gait of footsteps on the hardwood entry hall told her Mark had returned from meeting with Brock and Scott. She waited for him to climb the stairs to his room, but he walked toward the kitchen instead. Eager to see him, she hurried downstairs. She found him sitting at one of the tables on the back porch with a cup of coffee in his hands.

She slid into the chair across from him. “How did the meeting with Brock and Scott go?”

“Okay. They’ve identified the dead guy through the National Crime Information Center. His name is Clive Warren. He has several convictions on drug-related charges and was suspected of working for a drug ring headquartered in St. Louis.”

“Have they figured out who he was working with on Ocracoke?”

Mark shook his head. “No.”

“What about the flash drive? Did they break the code?”

“Yeah. My supervisor told me the lab guys were able to do that. It contained financial records and names of places drugs were shipped to from Ocracoke.”

Betsy breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s great. Now all they have to do is raid those places and arrest the people there.”

“It’s not that simple.” Mark set his coffee cup down on the table and wrapped his fingers around it. “We have agents keeping the places mentioned on the flash drive under surveillance. We still have to find out how the drugs are getting into the country.”

“So your job here isn’t over?”

“Not yet, but maybe we’ll be able to solve this case yet. Brock and Scott questioned Luke Butler about Clive being in his gallery. He said he had only met the man a few days before we saw him there. His story is that Clive approached him about buying the gallery. He denied knowing Clive had a gun on him.”

Betsy sat up straighter in her chair. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t know.” Mark took a sip of coffee and set the cup on the table. “We’ve suspected all along that there’s some business on the island serving as a front for the smugglers. It could be Luke’s gallery. I think I’ll take him up on the offer to let me hang out there and observe him at work.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I know you’re going there on DEA business, but Luke is a very talented woodcarver. You could pick up some great techniques from watching him work.”

Mark’s forehead furrowed. “It wouldn’t do me any good. I haven’t carved anything in several years.”

Betsy leaned forward and clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “I saw your carvings when we were in Raleigh. I’ve never seen such exquisite beauty. I think it would be a great stress reliever for you. You need to have something in your life besides chasing drug dealers.”

Mark pushed to his feet and raked his hand through his hair. “Maybe you have a point, but I don’t have time to think about that. I have to find whoever killed John and is after you.”

She walked around the table and stopped in front of him. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me. And I’m glad you took me to meet Laura. I liked her a lot. She wants to get on with her life, and she wants you to do the same.”

He shook his head. “Maybe someday, but not yet. There’s still too much to do.”

His words sucked the breath from her like a kick in the stomach. The trip to Raleigh might have been intended to keep her from danger, but it had set her up for heartbreak. She had come to care deeply for Mark and longed to have him return her feelings. From what he’d just said, there was no place in his life for anything—or anyone—except his self-imposed vendetta caused by his parents’ deaths.

Sadness flickered in his eyes, and in that moment she knew he cared for her. She also recognized an unspoken truth. He would never voice those feelings. She took a bolstering breath and tried to smile.

“I know you don’t think you can change the person you are, but you can. Laura’s found the strength through God’s love to face her life. I hope you can do the same. Until that time, I’ll be your friend, and I’ll help you anyway I can.”

He swallowed before he responded. “Thank you, Betsy. That means a lot to me.”

She cleared her throat. “Now that we have that settled, how about us spending the afternoon at Luke’s gallery? I would like to keep an eye on him, too. Besides, every time I watch him work, I learn something from him.” She glanced at her watch. “Treasury’s having dinner with some friends tonight, so I’ll take you out to eat later to repay you for your hospitality this weekend.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not going to cook?”

She laughed. “Are you kidding? I thought I was a good cook until our trip to Raleigh. Now I don’t feel like I’ll ever be comfortable in a kitchen again.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “So I surprised you, huh?”

She nodded. “You surprised me a lot.”

His eyes darkened, and the muscle in his jaw twitched. “I may not be in that house a lot, but I still consider it my home. I’m glad you were there with me this weekend.”

Her face warmed under his penetrating stare. Only a step, and she could be in his arms. But did he want it? She searched his face for an answer, and after a moment she backed away. “It was my pleasure. Now why don’t we go to Luke’s studio?”

She turned and walked to the back door. When she opened it, she glanced over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved. He frowned, shook his head, and stuck his hands in his pockets. Then he ambled toward her. “Let’s go.”

Betsy nodded and led the way to his car in front of the bed-and-breakfast. As they drove toward Luke’s studio, she studied Mark out of the corner of her eye. For years she’d harbored feelings that bordered on hate for the man she thought she’d known in Memphis. His short time on Ocracoke how shown her how wrong she’d been. She said a silent prayer to thank God for bringing him back into her life.

Maybe God’s plan all along had been for her heart to be healed of hatred. Once she’d thought that impossible, but God had taken away those feelings. If He could do that, He could get her through the rough days after Mark left Ocracoke. And in time she would come to think of Mark as a man she’d loved and lost. All she had to do was place this situation in God’s hands.

* * *

For the past three hours, Betsy had wandered around Luke’s gallery and studied the pieces on display. She’d always known Luke possessed great skill when it came to mixing colors to achieve the effect he wanted, and now her respect for his talent had risen to a new high.

Luke had taken Mark into the back workroom soon after they arrived. The first hour or two had been fun talking to island visitors, but she was beginning to get hungry. She headed in the direction of the workroom but turned and glanced over her shoulder when the front door opened.

Mona Davis from the Ocracoke Health Center strolled into the shop and moved toward a display to her right. Betsy scanned Mona’s face and arms for hints of bruises but didn’t see anything. She remembered Mona’s words about Mark being her boyfriend the last time they met, and she didn’t want a repeat of that conversation. She started to turn away but remembered her words to Mona about how she would always be her friend. Taking a deep breath, she approached her.

“Hi, Mona. How are you today?” The carving Mona held slipped from her fingers, and Betsy caught it before it hit the floor. She chuckled and set the piece on the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Mona’s eyes grew large. “I—I guess I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. I didn’t expect to see you here, not after what happened to you a few nights ago.”

Betsy rolled her eyes. “I guess everybody is talking about the man who attacked me in my studio.”

Mona nodded. “I heard about it. How are you?”

“Fine. Lucky to be alive. It still scares me to think about it.”

Mona’s lips trembled, and she grasped Betsy’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Betsy. You don’t deserve something like that happening to you.”

“Thank you for being concerned. I just hope Brock and Scott can find out who hired the hit man.”

“I hope so, too.” Mona took a deep breath. “Well, I’d better be going. It’s nice to see you again.” Mona turned and hurried toward the door. Before she stepped outside, she glanced back at Betsy. “Stay safe.”

Betsy nodded. “Thanks. And remember what I said about being here for you if you ever need help.”

“You’re a good friend, Betsy.”

Betsy stared at the door long after Mona had closed it and disappeared. There was something wrong with Mona today. She’d acted upset at Betsy’s presence in the gallery. She shrugged and headed toward the door to the workroom. At the door to the workroom, a sudden thought jolted her to a stop.

Ever since the night she’d been attacked in her studio, Betsy had tried to figure out how the drug dealers had known she was the one who had the flash drive. At first she’d assumed the killers saw her at Springer’s Point. If so, why hadn’t they killed her, too? Even if they had seen Mark, they probably wouldn’t have hesitated to kill both of them. But maybe they knew someone who could retrieve it later. Someone who worked at the place where the body would be taken.

Betsy slipped out the side door of the gallery into the parking lot and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Her brother answered on the first ring. “Hello.”

“Scott, this is Betsy. I’ve been thinking. Somebody had to know the flash drive wasn’t on John Draper’s body. They also had to know I was the one with him when he died. Did you and Brock question everybody who had access to his body?”

“We did. All along we’ve thought somebody who knew you had to pass on that information, but we can’t figure out who it was. Arnold and the other EMT have worked with the deputies on Ocracoke for years, but we questioned them. We didn’t come up with anything, though.”

“What about Mona Davis? Did you question her?”

“Yeah. Again we didn’t come up with anything. But we’re keeping a close watch on her and her boyfriend, Mac Cody.”

“Do you think he’s involved with the drug dealers?”

Scott exhaled. “We don’t know.”

“Have you talked with Mark about this?”

“Betsy, you don’t need to get involved in…”

“I know you’re only looking out for me,” she interrupted. “But I’m already involved. More than I ever wanted to be. Thanks for the information. Bye.”

Before Scott could respond, she ended the call. She stood in the parking lot for a few more minutes and debated what she should do. The thought that Mona might know something made Betsy want to shake her until she revealed who wanted her dead. But what if she was wrong and Mona knew nothing?

Betsy clenched her fists and grimaced. There was only one thing to do. She had to confront Mona about what she might know and appeal to her as a friend from childhood. Now all she had to do was convince Mark it was a good idea.

* * *

Mark glanced at the clock on the wall and shook his head. Had he really spent the entire afternoon bent over a table in the workroom of Luke Butler’s gallery? In front of him, the body of a decoy was slowly beginning to take shape. Mark raised his arms over his head, stretched his back and smiled. He was tired, but it was a good feeling.

Behind him the door opened, and he glanced around to see Betsy entering the room. “How’s it going?”

He pointed to the table. “It’s beginning to look like a duck.”

She laughed and plopped down in a chair across from him. “I peeked in on you a few times, but you were so engrossed in your work you didn’t see me.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve really enjoyed this.”

She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “I could tell.”

He picked up the block of wood with the outline of a duck’s head drawn on it and held it out. “You observe the ducks around here all the time. Do you think I’ve got this right?”

She took the wood and studied the pattern. “This is really good, Mark. It’s just right.”