Pursuit of Justice Read online

  “Perhaps if I’d ever been in your situation, I’d understand.” She crossed her arms over her chest, then unfolded them.

  Carr desperately wanted to show her he wasn’t a killer-psycho, but how? “I want to cooperate, not alienate the investigators. Seems like I left my faith and my ethics in the barn.” What was she thinking? Had he dug himself in so deep that she could arrest him?

  “You know, the Spider Rock treasure is cursed.” Lydia’s voice broke the awkwardness while he waited for Bella to comment. She stood between them, first eyeing Carr, then Bella. “Those men may have been murdered, but the curse of the treasure makes this tragedy no surprise.”

  Bella slowly nodded. “Knowing more about the treasure—the legends, the history, and those involved—might provide the motivation for the murderer.”

  “You’re a smart lady, Agent Jordan.” Lydia turned toward the hall leading to her and Jasper’s room. “Now, if you two could discuss your differences instead of fussing like two children, this investigation might go a lot smoother.”

  Carr felt like he’d been disciplined by one of the sisters in parochial school, who had tried unsuccessfully to make him take his life and God seriously.

  Lydia started down the hall, then whirled around. “And Carr did not shoot those men. The sooner you accept that fact, the better we’ll all get along.”

  He hoped the stoic look on Bella’s face wasn’t the makings of an arrest. She could claim he interfered with the investigation or was hostile or who knew what else.

  Finally she met his gaze. “Lydia makes sense.”

  “About my innocence?”

  “About researching the Spider Rock treasure.”

  “The kind that leads to men getting killed?” Carr studied her—poised, a trained professional, type A personality. He didn’t like her, but he didn’t dislike her either. “I don’t know a thing about the Spider Rock legend.”

  Bella uncapped her bottle of water. “I have a little knowledge. Looks like I need to acquire a lot more. Right now, I’m checking with the deputies who sorted through the trash.”

  Silence weighed in heavily, and she wore the boxing gloves.

  He took in a gulp of air. “Can I help?”

  * * *

  Bella walked outside into the heat, which reminded her of what she’d left inside Carr’s house. So many questions and so few answers. Aunt Debbie had told her that God had led her to this assignment, and the dear woman’s voice echoed around her.

  Learn more about the Spider Rock treasure? Memories slowly crept to the surface, despite the fact that she’d shoved them to the empty corner of her heart, then locked the door and hidden the key.

  She took a breath to calm herself and studied the ranch house. The two-story beauty rose up and sprawled out to well over six thousand square feet. If the circumstances were better, she’d have asked for a tour. Exquisite, but inviting. What she’d seen in the stone kitchen and the outdoor patio and summer kitchen said much for a man who liked to entertain, but Carr had chosen the life of a hermit. Well, until recently, when he decided to venture into the business of offering a home to at-risk boys.

  The beauty of the perfectly landscaped surroundings, including the flowers and shrubbery on a timed sprinkler system, reminded her of one of her aunt’s Southern Living magazines—even though she lived in Pennsylvania. Everything at the High Butte had been planned, right down to the Mexican heather with its tiny purple flowers, the rosebushes kissing the sun, and the bunches of pink and white impatiens within the shade of centuries-old oaks. In the rear, she’d noted a pool butted up against a rock waterfall. The rushing water pouring into deep blue depths gave the feeling of peacefulness—even if peace had exploded into turmoil two days earlier.

  Oh, to have grown up in an architectural masterpiece such as this. Her thoughts turned to where she’d been reared amid the dirt and weeds. At least that had been home until she was fifteen. Her father had been in her thoughts since she’d flown into Abilene. And finding the size-twelve footprints had added layers of regret. When she was much younger, he’d slapped a huge photo of the Spider Rock map on his bedroom wall. Blown up in huge proportions like a shrine—the altar that ruled his every decision, even his heart.

  A different shift of deputies arrived at three, and around four, Sheriff Adams returned and continued to work. Shortly after seven, she and Vic decided to call it a day. Bella wiped the perspiration trickling down her face and tossed her gloves in the trash. There were plenty more where those came from.

  After informing Darren that she and Vic were ready to head to Ballinger for her car, he introduced them to Deputy Roano, who’d be their transportation to town. Bella made a point of telling Lydia, Jasper, and Carr good night, if for no other reason than to have closure for the unpleasantness of the day. Sliding into the air-conditioned comfort of the deputy’s car, Bella allowed her mind to dwell on what had happened during the last nine hours. The various pieces of paper found in the trash appeared meaningless, but she and Vic would follow up on those tomorrow. The thought of asking for assistance from the field office either in Houston or Dallas crossed her mind, but she refused to call for additional resources on the first day.

  Perhaps tomorrow she’d have a report on the bullets lodged in her tire. The candy wrapper had led to the boot prints, which seemed to be the only substantial find. The print size affected her more than she cared to admit. Brandt Richardson and Stanton Warick were the two men who had caused her to run from this area in the first place.

  Brandt Richardson. Her nemesis had frightened her long enough, and she would not stop until he was behind bars.

  “Are you planning to return to the ranch tomorrow?” Deputy Roano said. The young man looked like he’d just graduated from the police academy.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “I hope a shooter doesn’t decide to use me for target practice again.”

  “Ma’am, I know you’re FBI and all that, but you and Special Agent Anderson need to be careful. The long stretches of road out here can be dangerous, especially if someone’s after you.”

  Conscientious man to offer them a warning. “We’ll be careful. Right, Vic?”

  “After twenty-two years, I’ve learned a thing or two. But thanks for the warning. You have the advantage of knowing the area.”

  Roano nodded and they passed pleasantries between them. He didn’t ask about the case, which she found odd. Neither did he inquire about the FBI—refreshing, because she didn’t have enough words floating around in her mind to respond intelligently. Neither did she want to burden Vic by having him answer all of the questions. Food and crawling into bed zoomed to the top of her priority list.

  After picking up her car, her confidence resumed, mostly because she had her own wheels again and didn’t have to depend on a deputy or Carr Sullivan.

  “What do you think?” she said to Vic once they were on the road.

  “Something’s not right about Sullivan. I think he killed those men.”

  “What about his plans to open a home for at-risk boys?”

  “Ever been around an abortion clinic after a bombing? Those nutcases believe God wanted the clinic destroyed.”

  Bella understood Vic’s reasoning, but she didn’t quite agree. Of course, she hadn’t revealed that Brandt wore a size-twelve shoe, and she had no idea if he had a favorite candy bar. “Well, we don’t have enough evidence to arrest Sullivan yet.”

  “Maybe tomorrow.” He lowered the temp on the air-conditioning. “Hope you don’t mind. I can’t seem to get cooled off.”

  “No problem. What do you think of Sheriff Adams?”

  “Despite his friendship with Sullivan, he’s followed the law. After all, he ran fingerprints and contacted us with the possibility of Richardson’s involvement.”

  Bella agreed, but she couldn’t help but believe something was missing, something they’d overlooked. “He had his deputies hard at work in the hot sun.”

  “Want to have dinner together?”

>   Vic was a nice guy, and she’d like to hear about his years in violent crime, but she wanted to be alone. “No thanks. I’m bushed and still have work to do.”

  “Sure. What time do you want to get started in the morning?”

  “Early. I’d like to leave Abilene around seven.”

  “I have an audio conference at eight, so I’ll drive myself when it’s over.”

  “Okay. I know you said the interviews with Lydia and Jasper cleared them, but did you pick up on anything else?”

  “Not a thing. We’ll both stay on it.”

  Bella dropped him off at the hotel parking lot, then swung back into the street toward a chain restaurant and ordered carry-out grilled salmon. The tempting smell in the car drove her to distraction. Then her stomach growled to make matters worse.

  At the hotel, she greeted the front desk on the way to her room. She slid the magnetic card into the door and eased inside. The soft hum of the air conditioner greeted her, and if not for the need to check e-mail and think through the day, she’d take her dinner to bed. Snapping on the lamp light, she relaxed in a soft chair and propped her feet on a matching ottoman.

  After taking a couple of bites of the tender salmon and buttering a warm roll, she plugged in her computer, quickly got online, and responded to her work e-mail. After a few more bites, she checked her personal e-mail. A message from Aunt Debbie grabbed her attention.

  Hi, Bella,

  By now you’ve been on the job for a day, so I’m wondering how you’re holding up. Oh, I know you’re a top-notch special agent and all that, but my concern is the scene of the crime. West Texas, for heaven’s sake. I’d rather you were in the Middle East. Keep your eyes open, one eye over your shoulder, and your weapon close by.

  How very strange that we carefully hid our addresses so they couldn’t find you, and now you’ve returned to another crime scene.

  Now for the mundane things here in Pennsylvania. The church plans two sessions of vacation Bible school. They asked me to be a teacher or an aide, but I had to refuse. I’d lose my mind with all of those little kids. About the first time a hyper little boy got the best of me, I’d be asking him if he was ready to meet Jesus. I’ll bake cookies and deliver them at night.

  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 tho
se 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.