Mystic Hearts (9 page)

She
laughed. “Remind him, would you? Hearing a man complimenting his wife does a
guy good.”

Larry
snorted. “And get one of his glares? No thanks.”

“You
have a point.” She wiped her hands on her jeans and nodded toward the water.
“Steve’s lingering near the river, too. Tell the big lug he’d better say hi
before he leaves.”

“That,
I’ll do.”

Larry
watched his best friend’s wife head inside before he headed toward their office
without walls.

The
crisp, cool breeze rustled the leaves on the trees and his hair. Fallen leaves
covering the boarded walked way crunched under his feet, the perfect time of
year, not too hot and not too cold.

The
walkway ended and he made his way through the noisy ground covered in dead
leaves and twigs to the large rock, near the water’s edge.

“Hey,
buddy.” Agent Steve Anderson stepped from behind a tree, a furrow marring his
brow. “You okay?”

Larry
looked between his past and present colleagues, realized from the concern lines
etched in their faces that he wore his turmoil on his, and quickly schooled his
expression. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve
studied him.

Not
wanting to give a reason to discuss his inner thoughts, he maintained the blank
expression.
 

“No
reason.” Steve shrugged, letting him off the hook by not questioning him
further.

Clean-shaven,
blond hair, and a powerful force in the field, Steve was known around the
office as the all-American boy, a perfect field agent. “Heard you kicked ass
overseas.”

“The
team did, yes. We’re lucky. A few times the guys ended up in a tight spot.”

Larry
patted him on the back. “Glad everyone’s intact.”

“Me,
too,” Jake said, tossing a stick into the water.

Willis
scurried after the stick, kicking dirt and leaves behind him, and jumped into
the water.

“Exhaustion
must have stolen your covert skills,” Larry said to Steve. “Pamela saw you from
the window.”

Steve
glanced toward the house. “Jake, you’ll have to plant a tree or two to conceal
our rock cave.”

Jake
snickered. “Rock cave. Is that anything like a man cave?”

“Yep.”
Steve shuffled and leaned back against a tree.

“Beats
thinking rock.” Larry chuckled.

“Thinking
rock?” Jake and Steve asked in unison.

“Pamela’s
words, not mine,” Larry assured them.

“You
can’t hide from my wife.”

“I’m
not trying to. You know she’s like a sister to me.” Steve said, “I’ll talk to
her after we’re done.” He faced Larry. “So, you have the hots for Charlene and
came close to ruining the case.”

Steve
was direct, but his meaning was lost on Larry. “What are you talking about?
What case?”

“Get
it right, Steve.”

Larry
appreciated his former comrade’s support.

“By
him playing footsy with Charlene,” Jake said, “he didn’t come close to wrecking
the case, he crippled it.”

Larry’s
jaw dropped. “You’re shitting me. Your brother calls on Charlene to stay the
night alone on Halloween, at an old house no less, after enduring a kidnapping,
and somehow, I managed to cripple a case I know nothing about?”

“Paul
had no choice but to call Charlene,” Jake said. “I was tied up on a case.”

“Same
here,” Steve added.

Jake
petted Willis’s head and picked up the wet stick his dog dropped at his feet.
He tossed it into the water. “She could have said no.”

Steve
darted his gaze toward the cooler in Larry’s hand. “Do you have a beer?”

“Thanks
to Pamela,” he said, passing the container.

Steve
set the cooler on the ground next to the rock, handed an open can to Jake and
popped open another for Larry.

“Crippled
a case? No way in hell.” Irritated, Larry snatched the beer from Steve’s hand,
downed a few gulps, and enjoyed the robust taste.

“You
didn’t cripple the case,” Jake said. “I’m messing with you, man.”

Willis
returned and stared at Jake with beady eyes, waiting for the stick to sail
through the air again.

Steve
rested his back against a tree and sipped his beer. “Your dog never tires.”

The
river’s steady flow, gentle and inviting, sent a peace over Larry, hypnotizing
him. He breathed in the woodsy scent, letting his worries slip away. “I wish I
could say the same. I’m beat.”

“Debrief
us,” Jake said. “Then I’ll fill you in on the Director’s phone call.”

Larry’s
eyebrow arched. The peaceful moment vanished. Was more happening than a few odd
lights? “As you already know, I went to Greenwood Manor to check on the
mysterious glow per Paul’s request. Before I could investigate, I came across
an Allen Mathews staring at Charlene through the kitchen window.”

“Did
you run his history?” Jake asked.

“I
did, and confirmed he worked on the manor. There’s no information before this
year.”

“Not
a lot to go on. Hell, he could be a spook.” Jake drank some beer. “As long as
you have a positive ID that it’s Mathews and not her ex, Andrew Smith. By now,
he knows Charlene received a reward for helping with the recovery of the bonds.
He’s a piece of work, capable of anything.”

“Even
so, by now he would have made a move,” Steve said.

The
rage that roiled through Larry just by thinking how Smith left Charlene and
Henry in a dire mess had the ability to turn him into a loose cannon, something
he’d best heed and control. “Any sign of Smith since he bailed on his family?”

“Negative,”
Jake said.

“He’s
too yellow to come back,” Steve growled. “Hell, any man deserting his family is
a douche bag,”

“Don’t
count on it.” Uncertainty flashed over Jake’s expression, and the pulse in his
neck ticked. “Stranger things have happened.”

“If
he’s smart, he’ll stay away,” Steve said. “They’re better off without him.”

Steve
had a point, yet Andrew Smith was Henry’s father. The boy deserved to have his
dad in his life. Larry grimaced… maybe not. If Larry’s dad hadn’t been part of
his, he’d been a lot happier, his mother, too.

The
niggling sixth sense that had kept him out of harm’s way shouted loudly in his
ear that nothing was as it seemed where Charlene was concerned.
What am I overlooking?
“Why bring up
Smith?”

A
loud splash and they watched as Jake’s dog chased after a Mallard duck.

“Has
he ever caught one?” Steve asked, walking closer to the bank’s edge.

“Once.”
Jake tilted his head. His expression went dark briefly. “Pamela had a
premonition.”

A
momentary shock silenced them.

“Really?”
Steve stepped toward them. “Since when does she have them?”

“Willis!
Get back here!” Jake yelled and whistled until the lab climbed the embankment
and shook. “Can’t say She believes someone is after Charlene. I asked her not
to act like a mother bear. If she did, Charlene would never relax.”

“Which
brings us back to, why did you drive Charlene home?” Steve’s gaze narrowed and
sharpened.

“Are
you interrogating or debriefing me?” Annoyance filled Larry’s tone.

“Whatever
it takes?” Jake picked up the stick and tossed it. “Last time, boy.”

Willis
flew into the water two feet below the bank.

He
didn’t like the tone in their voices. “Both of you are assholes,” Larry said,
butting up to the rock.

“We
know,” Steve said, “and you’re easy prey, man-by-the-book. But seriously, why’d
Charlene leave her car at Greenwood Manor?”

“Because
of her shaky equilibrium. She couldn’t drive.”

The dog jumped onto the bank, dropped
the stick, and shook.

“Whoa. Willis, not here,” Jake
commanded.

The
dark-eyed lab looked at his owner, walked in a circle, and lay down.

“Equilibrium?”
Steve raised a questioning brow. “Is that code for drunk?”

The
laced wine more than likely caused her loss of balance, but with her hitting
her head on the ground, he wasn’t certain. Either way, the wine was the root of
her abnormal behavior. Still, he didn’t want to go into details concerning
Charlene’s behavior. If she wanted it known that she drank a bottle of wine by
herself, then it was for her to tell, not him. “It’s not that simple.”

“Let
me take a stab here. Charlene drank to deal with ghosts and you think by not
spilling what happened, you’ll protect her virtue.” Steve squeezed the empty
beer can and tossed it beside the cooler. “Wonder if she saw the Madison Hand
we heard about recently?”

“Come
on,” Jake said with a that’s-ridiculous tone embedded in his voice. “Who
believes in ghosts?”

Larry
lifted an eyebrow. Steve must have done the same.

Jake
snorted. “You guys can’t be serious. No facts, no proof. Hell, the witnesses
who thought they observed the renowned hand, doesn’t even believe their lying
eyes.”

“I’m
not saying I believe in them,” Larry refuted. “Incidents happen that I can’t
justify.”

“The
manor made a ghost-believer out of you?”

Steve’s
snarky question irritated Larry. “That’s not what I said.”

Steve
held up a hand. “As much as I hate to admit it, not everything can be
explained. I’m surprised Greenwood Manor shifted your way of thinking. The last
time we talked about a phenomenon, it was you two against me.”

Larry
still didn’t know if he believed in spirits. “My way of thinking hasn’t
changed. I’m just admitting that not everything has an explanation.”

“Well,
that’s progress.” Steve nodded toward Jake, “You?”

“Nope.
There’s a reason for everything.”

“You’ll
see the light one day.” Steve snickered. “Back to the case: I have a nagging
suspicion one of you guys hasn’t coughed up the whole story with Greenwood
Manor and the magic lights. I can locate either of you via satellite, but I
don’t have the equipment to read your minds. Now spill.”

“A
call came across the FBI tip line.” Jake plopped down on the rock, his voice
turned serious. “An illegal drug trade run by a small outfit, The Impalers, is
thought to have a manufacturing plant at the manor.”

This
was the first Larry heard of an outfit. “Wait a minute. Why in the hell wasn’t
I informed before I went out there to check on the verity of the lights?”

“Did
you see any?” Jake asked, igoring Larry’s question.

Fireflies,
Charlene had called them. “Yes.”

Jake
cleared his throat. “You needed a partner. Why didn’t you call?”

“Excuse
me?” Larry seethed. “Since when do I need a babysitter? And how the hell did
you know where I was in the first place?”

“Steve,”
Jake said.

Larry
didn’t have to ask how Steve knew. The man had eyes everywhere.

“I
might not be in the FBI anymore,” Jake’s voice rose, matching Larry, “but you
damn well better cough up what’s going on. How else can you have backup?”

Larry
sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Jake and his demands didn’t add up.
“Are we talking about the same job? Paul called, told me Jed Bradley, the
overseer of Greenwood Manor, had received a phone call about strange lights.
Given the nature of the call, Bradley elicited your brother’s help. I can’t say
why Paul called me and not you.”

Jake
dropped his arms, a smile stretched across his face. “You’ve been had.”

Steve
laughed.

A
bright, sunny day and Larry felt like he had been in the dark since he arrived.
“What the hell is so funny?”

“Brother
Paul set you up,” Jake forced out between breaths.

Jake’s
words took a moment to sink into Larry’s brain. Jake just proved his earlier
suspicions. Paul had set the stage for him and Charlene.

Larry
jabbed his hands on his hips and stared at the water as another thought plunged
into his mind.
Had Paul laced the wine?
Given Paul’s character, he shook his head and immediately dismissed the notion.
“No way.”

“Having
a private conversation with yourself?” Steve asked.

Larry
ignored Steve. “So you’re pulling my leg about not calling you.”

“Sort
of,” Jake said and finished his beer.

“I’m
not. An agent is always prepared, has backup,” Steve kept on.

“Anderson,
you’re a pain in the ass.”

“You
need standby for those tight spots, like a blind date blind-siding you.” Jake
tossed his can to the cooler. “What irony. Damn, this is better than fishing.”

“How’d
you handle yourself, agent?” The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched. “Given your
fear of women, did you nosedive or deliver?”