Winter's Fire (Welcome to Covendale #7) (11 page)

“Guess I stand corrected.” Dom grinned and approached with a hand out, exchanging a brief look with Adam that she couldn’t interpret. “I’m sorry. I must’ve had you confused with a different Miss Solomon.”

“Yes, that must be it.” She offered her own hand and a hesitant smile. “Call me Winter,” she said. “Please.”

“Sure thing, Winter.” He threw a glance at Adam. “You and me are gonna talk later, bro. Unless you’re busy.”

“I might be.” He winked at her, and it was all she could do not to blush. “What’s up?”

“Er. It really is business,” Dom said. “Maybe we should step out…”

Adam shook his head. “Whatever it is, Winter probably needs to know anyway.”

“Okay. It’s not really a big thing. Just Goddard.”

“What about him?”

“He’s late. Like, an hour late.”

Winter shivered and met Adam’s eyes. The concern in them matched what she felt—Ethan Goddard not being here today made him more suspicious.

It suddenly occurred to her that if it was Ethan, he might be out arranging an “accident” right now.

“Excuse me,” she said, rushing back to the workstation. “I have to find something.”

“Okay,” Dom said slowly, and in a lower voice added, “What’s up with her?”

“Long story, bro. But it has to do with her investigation, and Ben…”

Winter tuned out their hushed conversation and focused on the computer. The program had finally loaded. It didn’t take long to see that the same files were missing from the digital records. Four incident reports submitted with claims for accident cleanups. She checked the expense records and found the same thing—the annual reports for the last two years weren’t there.

But they had been there at some point. When she went into the administrative panel and changed the settings to show hidden files, faded icons with temporary file names popped up in the spaces where the missing data should have been.

She pulled up the activity log and saw that the files had been deleted recently. Two days ago…just when she’d arrived in Covendale. And there was something else, something older than the deleted files.

Another network had accessed this system.

“Adam!” she called without looking away from the screen. “I found something.”

He rushed over with Dom right behind him. “What is it? Are the files you need still in there?”

“Unfortunately, no. But look at this.” She pointed to a group of six entries in the activity log, all with the same string of numbers. “This is an IP address from an external network,” she said. “Someone had access to the system, and they downloaded a lot of data around a month ago. Six files.”

Adam cleared his throat. “I don’t speak computer too well,” he said. “Can I get that in English?”

“Seriously, bro?” Dom elbowed him. “She’s saying someone got online from a home computer and copied some files from our system.”

“Exactly. And I believe…” She clicked on the IP entries and compared the packet names with the hidden temp data. “They’re the missing files. So if we find this network, we find the files.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yes, but it will take a while,” she said. “I have to contact the service provider and get them to authorize releasing the origin location of the IP address.”

“She has to call the Internet people and make them tell her where the downloads came from,” Dom said.

“Yeah. I got that.” Adam elbowed him back. “How long is a while?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a few hours.” She sighed and opened a window to view the network properties. “ISPs aren’t obligated to divulge physical IP locations, and they usually don’t with all the concerns about privacy. Unless you can prove something illegal is involved—but sometimes not even then. Fortunately, I have a secret weapon.”

“And that would be…”

She smiled. “Teddy Jones.”

“Oh, right,” Adam said. “The guy who could talk the queen into seeing a strip show?”

“That’s him.”

Dom frowned at both of them. “Okay, now you
really
have to explain a few things.”

Laughing, Winter pulled her phone out. “This’ll probably be a long conversation,” she said. “He’ll be worried. But I’ll get things rolling, and we should have something soon.”

As she dialed, she found herself hoping they’d be able to identify the person responsible for this before the end of the day. And when they did, she’d take Teddy’s advice and stay in Covendale. To relax.

This time, she wouldn’t have to relax alone.

* * * *

It wasn't easy for Adam to keep his mind on work.

He didn't enjoy feeling helpless. Someone he worked with every day had killed one of his closest friends, and whoever it was could be here right now. Smiling, joking, pretending they belonged and everything was just fine.

His gut told him it was Ethan, but they didn't have the proof yet. It could still be anyone.

And that wasn't the only problem. He worried about Winter, didn't want to leave her alone. She believed if the culprit was here, they wouldn't try anything in a station full of witnesses. He didn't want to take the chance she was wrong. Now that he'd found her again, he couldn't live with himself if anything happened to her.

He'd already fallen for her a year ago. Losing her before they got the chance to have more than a fling would kill him.

The only thing he could do was go down to the sheriff's station and talk to Brad Tanner about the accident. He'd promised Winter he wouldn't mention the threat against her, but he wanted to read the report, see if the sheriff had noticed anything suspicious. Unfortunately, Sheriff Tanner was out for the morning, so he had to wait.

He killed time until after lunch and checked on Winter one last time. She was fine, with no news on the computer stuff yet, so he charged Dom with keeping an eye on her and headed for the sheriff's at the heart of downtown Covendale—not that downtown was much. It was just what they called the place where most of the businesses were.

Sheriff Tanner was expecting him. The tall, stern man with a penchant for wearing cowboy hats led Adam back to his office and had him take a seat across the desk, before settling into his own. “You're here about Ben Schaeffer, that right?” the sheriff said.

Adam nodded. “I'd like to see the accident report,” he said. “The whole thing doesn't sit right with me.”

“Yes. Donovan told me how insistent you were about investigating this one.” Sheriff Tanner frowned briefly, opened a drawer and pulled out a file folder. “Did you think we wouldn't do our jobs down here?”

“No, I knew you would. It's just easier doing your job when you know what it's supposed to be,” he said. “When you're looking for the right things.”

The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “Ben was a friend of yours,” he said.

“Yes, he was. A very good friend.”

“Mm-hm. Well, it’s only natural, wanting to find a reason when something terrible happens to someone you care about. Even if it’s really just an accident.” Sheriff Tanner paused, and then dropped the folder on the desk with a sigh. “Unfortunately, in this case I think you may be onto something.”

Adam’s stomach wrenched. “What did you find?”

“Maybe nothing. But maybe not.” He nodded at the folder. “Blood tests were clean—but we expected that. Ben wasn't impaired in any way. We found no evidence of hazards or adverse road conditions.” The sheriff leaned forward slightly. “What we did find was a loose steering column. And a brake fluid reservoir that maybe didn't burn up as much as someone wanted it to, and maybe was empty before the engine fire started.”

“So he
was
killed.”

“Maybe,” Sheriff Tanner said sternly. “This is by no means conclusive. But I will tell you this: the investigation into the death of Ben Schaeffer is still open.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. I—” Adam's phone vibrated, almost making him jump. “Excuse me a minute,” he said as he pulled it out. “I may have to take this.”

The sheriff nodded.

The number didn't look familiar, but he answered anyway. “Rhodes here.”

“Adam?”

“Winter.” He glanced at the sheriff, stood and walked a few paces away. “Is everything okay?”

“So far,” she said. “I got the trace on that IP address.”

“Your friend came through, then. That's great. Where is it?”

“It's a residential address. Just a second.” She paused, and he heard her typing something. “Three fifty-seven Kings Way.”

“Holy shit,” he rasped.

“What’s wrong? Is it somewhere you know?”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. “That’s Ben’s address.”

On the other end of the line, Winter gasped. “He knew about this,” she whispered. “My God, he knew it a month ago.”

“Maybe longer.” That night at the bar—Christ, it was only two nights ago.  He still remembered every word of the conversation they had in the parking lot.

She’s investigating something that’s been going on a long time. Something I haven’t been able to stop.

“Did he have a computer at home?” Winter said. “He must have. We need to go there and get those files, before someone else realizes he had them.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder at the sheriff, who was working hard at not listening to the conversation. “Well, we can’t just break in,” he said. “But I might have a way to do it. I’ll be back soon—and you be careful, okay?”

“I will. You, too.”

“Promise.”

When he ended the call, Sheriff Tanner looked at him expectantly. “Why do I have the feeling you’re going to ask me for a favor?” he said.

“Because you have wisdom beyond your years.”

The sheriff snorted. “It’d better be a small favor.”

“Tiny,” Adam said. “I need to get into Ben’s house, and I need to do it legally.”

“For what?”

“Evidence.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s a real small favor.” Sheriff Tanner shook his head. “I'd have to get permission from the next of kin, and get the judge to sign off on it. Today happens to be his golf day. And I
hate
golf.”

Adam smirked. “So you’ll do it?”

“You owe me.” The sheriff pushed the file folder across the desk toward him. “Take this with you,” he said. “It’s a copy. I’ll see what I can do about getting access to the house.”

Adam took the folder. “Thank you. I’ll make sure you get an invitation to the next clambake.”

“I hate clams, too.” Sheriff Tanner smiled faintly. “Just do me the favor of staying out of trouble, will you?”

“I can do that.”

He left the sheriff’s station with a small measure of relief, but at least it was better than nothing. One way or another, he’d make sure Ben’s killer was brought to justice.

Chapter 13

The route from the sheriff’s back to the fire station took Adam past the Klinker. He glanced at the bar out of habit—and noticed Ethan Goddard’s bright red Mustang parked in the back lot. With Ethan standing beside it.

No way was he going to waste this opportunity to confront the son of a bitch.

He took a hard right, tires squealing as he turned behind the bar and raced into the gravel lot. The sound got Ethan’s attention. Fine with him. The bastard liked to think he was tough, but Adam knew he could take him down if it came to that. He’d just never had cause to resort to violence.

Until now.

He parked behind the red car, and Ethan sneered at him as he got out. “Ooh, here comes Mister Big Shot, thinking he’s gonna drag me into work,” he said.

Adam approached him fast. He smelled the pot before he noticed Ethan’s bloodshot eyes, and then saw a second figure reclining on the hood of the Mustang, dragging on a joint. He couldn’t quite place the other man—one of the endless wannabe thugs Ethan hung around with when Vernon and Kade weren’t stuck to his ass.

“Oh, I don’t want you at work,” Adam said. “I just want to know why you’re not there.”

Ethan snorted. “Guess.”

The thug on the hood roused himself, blinked blearily and wandered off a few feet. Adam tensed when he pulled something from his pocket, but it was only a phone. He sent a steady gaze at the stoned disgrace of a firefighter, and said evenly, “I’m all guessed out, Ethan. Why don’t you tell me?”

If Ethan heard the warning note in his voice, he ignored it. “You’re not as big as you think, Rhodes,” he said. “I didn’t go in today because I don’t goddamned have to. And I can get away with whatever I want.”

It wasn’t easy to stay calm. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t have to think. I
know
.”

“You’re not getting away with this,” Adam said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, but I am.”

Ethan’s sudden grin chilled him. His hands tightened into fists, ready to answer the man’s bluff with blows—until the back door of the bar opened and the rest of the thug crew spilled out. Four more guys advancing with clear menace, all of them big enough to challenge Adam one-on-one.

Only he guessed they weren’t planning to take turns.

He glared at Ethan. “Is this supposed to be the accident I’m having?”

“Accident? Hell, no,” Ethan said. “I’m doing this on purpose.”

He swung without warning.

Adam pulled back, and the blow missed him by inches. He managed to land a fist in Ethan’s gut before two of the thugs were on him, circling the Mustang to come up behind him. One of them smashed something hard and solid across his shoulder blades. He pitched forward, only to have the other catch his arm and yank him back.

He came around swinging.

His knuckles slammed into a nose. The recipient of the blow howled and clamped a hand over gushing blood. Adam felt a hand scrabbling for purchase on his shirt, and turned to throw a punch at whatever he could reach. He connected with a gut like hard rubber.

Thug number two grunted and punched back, bloodying his lip.

Ethan had his feet back under him, and the other two had reached the fray. Fueled by pure rage, Adam lashed out with fists and feet, hitting every target that presented itself.

He lasted a full two minutes before they took him down.

Two of them held his arms and kept him standing. Ethan stood in front of him, holding the others back with a raised hand. “Maybe you want to reconsider your choices, Rhodes,” he said, grinning wickedly. “In fact, maybe you want to resign. Lieutenant.”