Pursuit of Justice (8 page)

Let’s see . . . Got my hair done yesterday morning. Instead of the color corn silk, I went wild with strawberry blonde and requested a few maroon highlights. My aerobics class loved it.

I’m praying for you.

Love,

Aunt Debbie

Bella laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. She needed to save all the crazy and witty quotes from her precious aunt and read them on bad days.

She whisked off a lengthy e-mail to the field office and finished her dinner. She’d refused to look at the bed for fear she’d toss back the quilt and sheets and not open her eyes until morning. Actually, not a bad idea.

With her teeth brushed and her face squeaky clean, weariness tugged at her eyelids while her shoulders ached. Her gaze swept over the flowered quilt, and she realized she’d better set her BlackBerry for five o’clock in the morning or she’d sleep till noon. In the shadows, she saw a long, narrow, hoselike shape in the bed.
What in the world?

Bella touched the shape and jerked back her hand.
Surely not.
Her heart thudded against her chest. She moved around to the opposite side of the bed, grabbed the bedclothes, and flung them back.

A rattlesnake clicked its warning.

Chapter 8

Carr pressed in the phone number for Aros Kemptor, the attorney Kent Matthews had recommended. He didn’t know Aros’s experience with criminal law, but he had witnessed the attorney’s faith more than once in the last year since Aros joined New Hope Church. Volunteering time and money went a long way in showing a man’s character.

About six months ago, a church member lost his house in a fire, and Aros stepped in by finding temporary housing for the family of seven—and paying for it. Another time, a young woman diagnosed with cancer no longer had medical insurance. Aros arranged for a county-wide benefit dinner and concert and then brought in a popular Christian singer from Dallas. Carr used to wonder why the man drove all the way from Abilene to attend church in Ballinger, but he said Kent’s sermons and the community of believers were worth a little inconvenience.

Carr checked his watch and saw it was 6:30 a.m., mentally confirming what Kent had said about the attorney beginning work by six. With all of the problems connected with his involvement in the murders, he needed legal advice about his assets. Mainly his ranch. Aros answered on the third ring.

“This is Carr Sullivan.”

“Mornin’, Carr. Pastor Kent said you might be calling me. Sorry to hear about the unfortunate circumstances on your ranch. Anything I can do?” Aros’s voice held a mixture of sympathy and friendliness, but the sound reminded Carr too much of the high-dollar attorneys who had been on his payroll in Dallas. He envisioned the dark-haired man leaning back in a plush leather chair in a tastefully decorated office in Abilene. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. He shrugged off his misgivings and focused on the reason for his call.

“Thanks. I’ll feel better when the murderer is arrested and my name is cleared.”

“How can I help you?”

Taking in a breath meant to erase the memories of some of the overpaid and obnoxious attorneys from his past, Carr plunged ahead. “I’m concerned about my assets in light of the murder victims found on my ranch. I wanted to verify that Texas property rights are supreme.”

“Yes, sir. If you’d purchased the property with money obtained by illegal means—let’s say drugs—then you could lose your ranch. The good news is, if you were charged with a felony, your property would still be intact.”

Relieved, Carr tossed that worry aside. “Thanks. I needed confirmation.”

“Do you need representation?”

“Not at this time. If I’m charged for those killings, then I’ll be camping on your back doorstep.”

“I understand how you feel. Regarding your concern about property rights, are you facing a lawsuit?”

“I don’t think so. There was nothing dangerous about where the victims were digging. Except how they met their demise.”

“A very sad and tragic situation. Would you like to get together and discuss this matter? I understand the sheriff’s department and the FBI have taken up residence at your ranch. Are you sure they aren’t in violation of your rights in your willingness to help with the investigation?”

The thought had crossed Carr’s mind, and he wondered if his overexuberance in helping could be used against him. But he had to follow what he felt was the right thing to do. “I appreciate your help. But I’m fine with how the authorities are conducting their work.”

“I hope you haven’t made a foolish decision. Being a suspect in a murder case can damage your reputation for a lifetime. Legal representation is not an option; it’s a necessity.”

Aros had clearly demonstrated his faith, and he was a wise man with legal expertise, which Carr lacked. And yet the dilemma of whether or not to engage the attorney’s services . . . “Let’s see how the investigation progresses.”

“I’m only giving you legal advice, Carr, nothing else. And I certainly don’t want to undermine your convictions. Are the authorities still linking the deaths to the Spider Rock treasure?”

“The last I heard. It’s a hoax, if you ask me.”

“Call it what you want, but if people are dying for it, then it’s a problem.” Aros cleared his throat. “Carr, do you know anything about the Spider Rock legend?”

Great, here it comes again.
“Not a thing.”

“I suggest you ignore the tall tales. It’ll only waste your time. Can’t imagine three men giving their lives for such foolishness. Now look at what it’s done to them and their families—and you.”

“I thought I’d look into what’s available online and read a book or two about it. I’m not in the treasure-hunting business, but I’d like to know what those men died for.”

“I’m merely suggesting not getting involved. If you’re arrested, your interest could be used against you.”

Aros made good sense about an angle Carr had not considered. “All right. The sheriff and one of his deputies suggested the same thing. However, sitting around while the FBI and the sheriff’s department continue their investigative work is driving me crazy.”

“I’m a phone call away if you need representation or simply need to talk. Day or night, feel free to call. As you already know, I’m a single man. A call won’t disturb me.”

“Thanks. I’ll give this a few more days.”

“Be careful.”

Carr ended the call and contemplated Aros’s advice to ignore the talk about Spider Rock. The attorney made sense, but knowledge was power. At least he’d always believed so.

* * *

As Bella drove toward the crime scene, she hoped her second day at the High Butte Ranch would prove more productive than the previous one. Yet as the sun began its slow rise in the sky, she already had misgivings.

Last night, after she found the rattler in her bed, a young female manager with purple highlighted hair assisted her in changing rooms. Odd, since the report stated a man was the manager. Another matter she’d need to check into. The woman trembled so much that Bella ended up comforting her. Once in a new room, the manager sent a male worker to assist in searching for any signs of other unwanted reptiles. He tripped over his words and offered one apology after another about his uneasiness. More than once Bella considered sending him back to the lobby.

The snake had all the characteristics of a Brandt Richardson tactic. If he’d meant to kill her, then two bullets wouldn’t have been aimed at her car tires or a snake planted in her bed. She knew changing hotels wouldn’t matter. If someone had gotten into this hotel, he’d find access into another. What would the killer try next?

Although Bella had grandiose ideas of solving this case in a matter of days, she’d been fooling herself. Reports, interviews, motives, and follow-ups were in line for the entire task force. Another suspect floated to the top of the brine.
My father could be involved.
She shuddered. Although she detested him, the little girl in her didn’t want to think of him as a murder suspect, and she couldn’t bring herself to call FIG for a report. He wouldn’t come after his own daughter. Or would he? When she examined the past, the probability reared its head like the rattler in her bed last night.

Returning to this part of the country could very well have been a mistake. The dry and barren land filled her with an intense fear, while an ache deep inside matched the wasteland surrounding the High Butte. She wanted to run from all it represented. But not this time, not with the prospect of ending what should have been finished years ago.

Bella considered herself a woman of logic and rationale, and still she had a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that Brandt had orchestrated the three deaths and the threats on her life. Even worse, she knew he wasn’t finished. Although she sensed she might not be strong or clever enough to outthink his next move, she’d chosen to face him and bring the past to the present before one more person died.

For a few moments she let her mind wander back to her three younger half brothers and a half sister and calculated their current ages. The oldest brother would be eighteen, then seventeen, sixteen, and her sister would be fourteen. They’d been sweet babies, often turning to her instead of their mother. She couldn’t fault Mair too much because the woman had a tremendous burden in being married to Bella’s father. All of them had gone hungry. Given the same situation, she might have reacted with some of the same apathy. Had those kids escaped the craziness of their parents, or were they walking the same road? Aunt Debbie said the time would come when she’d need to find her siblings and make peace with them. Even with her father.

The gate to the High Butte was open, a good omen as far as Bella was concerned. As she pulled the car to a halt beside Sheriff Adams’s vehicle, gravel crunched beneath her tires. No one was in sight. She grabbed her shoulder bag and strode to the back door, where she figured Carr and Darren would be having coffee.

She took one quick, longing gaze at the pool, the early morning sun sparkling off its blue waters like a million twinkling diamonds. The door opened, and the sound of conversation reminded her of the murders and why she’d driven to the High Butte.

“Good morning, Agent Jordan.” Lydia’s wide smile could charm the moon. “Come on in and join us for breakfast.”

“Call me Bella. Remember?” The scent of bacon and eggs and a waft of maple syrup tempted her. She hadn’t run this morning. Been in too much of a hurry to get there. “When this is over, I’m making reservations here.” What was she thinking? These people weren’t friends. They were murder suspects. Then again, she needed to secure their trust.

“You’d be welcome.” Lydia’s silver and black hair was tied back in an elegant bun at the base of her neck. Long red and silver earrings and a turquoise blouse trimmed in red over dark blue jeans did make her look like she was welcoming guests at a resort.

Bella greeted Carr and Darren while pouring herself coffee. She
really
wanted some scrambled eggs and one, only one, piece of bacon. What was it about bacon and chocolate when it came to women? She gave in when Lydia handed her a plate. Once she lowered herself into one of the wooden chairs, she refocused on her job. “Vic will be here later on this morning. How long have you been here?” She aimed her question at the sheriff.

“About twenty minutes. Wanted an early start. How was your evening?”

Bella lifted a brow and poked a mouthful of eggs into her mouth. The sheriff might already know.

“Hope you got a good night’s rest.” With the dark circles beneath his eyes, Carr looked like he should go back to bed.

“Not exactly.” Bella stirred honey into her coffee mug and lifted it to her lips. “Someone put a rattler in my bed.” Before either of the men could respond, she continued with her story. “However, I did get a free night at the hotel, which will help the looks of my expense report at the FBI.”

“How ever did you crawl into bed after that?” Lydia’s face had grown ashen.

Bella laughed. The woman’s question reminded her of how she’d felt. “I changed rooms, and the manager sent a worker to help me tear everything apart—twice.”

Carr leaned on one elbow. “Do you have any idea who did it?”

Bella bit into the bacon. With questions and details about the case swirling in her mind, her food no longer had appeal. “Obviously I’m being warned to leave this case alone.”

“And?” Carr said.

“No way.” Bella gave Sheriff Adams a curious look. He hadn’t said a word, and his face appeared intent on her account of the previous night. His pale face was a sharp contrast to the man she met yesterday. “Is there something I should know?”

“I want to think about a few of the things we uncovered yesterday. In short, this investigation concerns me as to where it leads.”

“We’re all concerned.” Carr scooted out from behind the table and helped himself to another cup of coffee. “What’s going on, Darren?”

“In my opinion, more than one man is involved. I think it’s a team of players, and last night at Bella’s hotel proved it.”

That’s when she noted Darren hadn’t touched his food. Sweat dripped down his temples, and his pale face indicated something was going on. “Are you sick, sir?”

Darren offered a tight-lipped smile. “I’m trying to talk myself out of it.” He shook his head as though mentally chasing away whatever had attacked his system. “There’s more to this than treasure hunters who are out to find the cache of gold. These are murderers who are well organized and out to derail our investigation.”

“I agree we’re not looking for just one man,” Bella said. “But what brought you to the same conclusion?”

“Strange occurrences. Give me some time to mull it over.” He pointed at Bella. “Be careful. Third time’s a charm, and I don’t want to be informing the FBI that one of their agents is out of the game permanently.”

Bella appreciated his concern, but—“I’m a trained professional. I can take care of myself.”

“Figured you’d respond like this was nothing.” Darren moistened his lips. “I have the report on the bullet dug out of your car’s tire: .223 Remington ammunition. The same make of bullets pumped into our victims.”

“Like the ones from my stolen rifle,” Carr added.

“You’re right. It may be your gun, but you didn’t fire it yesterday morning.” Darren hesitated and drew in a deep breath. Sweat continued to bead his face.

Carr’s brows narrowed. “You look horrible.”

“Thanks. You don’t look like fashion runway material yourself. Truth is, I have a nasty stomachache, and it’s gotten steadily worse. Think I have a fever too.”

Lydia walked across the kitchen and touched his forehead. “You’re on fire, Sheriff. You need to be in bed.”

He attempted to stiffen but failed miserably. “There’s too much work to be done here for me to take off.”

“Delegate it. And what your deputies can’t do will have to wait.” Lydia picked up the phone. “Do I call your wife, or are you going home?”

Darren slowly rose from the table and made his way to the back door and outside.

“Men.” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. “Stubborn as mules. He’ll be out there for a while.”

“I’ll take him home when he’s ready.” Carr carried his plate to the sink. “He doesn’t look like he’s in any shape to drive.” He glanced at Lydia and Bella. “Either of you feel sick?”