“Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.”
THOMAS JEFFERSON
“What else don’t I know about the real you?” Hayden leaned back in the kitchen chair and stared at Bella over his coffee cup.
She pointed the spatula she held at him. “I told you . . . I love coffee and Dr. Pepper and I really, really miss smoking. You cannot believe how much I miss smoking.” Even three years later, she could taste the menthol in the back of her throat. “You know how people say you get better taste buds and sense of smell after you quit smoking? That’s a lie.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Big, fat, hairy lie.” She turned to check on the biscuits in the oven, nearly tripping over the dog. “Chubbers, go lie down.”
The black Lab ambled to the back door and plopped on his rug.
“And I miss my cat something fierce.” The long-ignored yearning seared her chest. “So many times I wanted to call and find out where Whiskers ended up. Who had found her and where she is.”
Hayden shook his head. “I would’ve never taken you for a cat person.”
People didn’t own cats—they owned their humans. Bella flipped the sizzling bacon. “I love cats.”
Chubbers lifted his head from his paws.
She laughed. “I love you too, Chubs.” She grinned at Hayden. “I swear, that dog understands English.”
“He’s smart. What else?”
She pulled the bacon from the pan and set it across paper towels. “Well, I used to be a vegetarian.” She flipped another piece of bacon. “Obviously, I had to get over that.”
“I find it fascinating you had me so completely fooled.”
She pulled the biscuits from the oven and turned it off. “Hayden, I didn’t set out to fool you or anyone for fun. I didn’t have a choice. I had to change everything so I could get away.” All her life, from her father to Daniel, she’d been raised to respect the truth. Her heart ached with having to live so many lies just to stay alive. The reality didn’t ease the adjustment to her moral compass.
“I know. And we’re going to figure everything out so you can be free to be yourself from now on.”
“I hope so.” She carried the plates to the table and dropped to a chair across from Hayden. “I wish I’d been able to find more of Daniel’s cases. I only got the last five he presided over.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Hayden bent his head, softly said a prayer, then met her gaze. “Since we’re being honest now, would you tell me why you’re mad at God?”
She figured he’d get around to the subject of religion. Just hadn’t expected it quite so soon. She took a sip of coffee, savoring the much-missed flavor. “My mother died very soon after I was born. From complications of pneumonia.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I never knew her to miss her.” Even looking at photos of her mother hadn’t tugged on any heartstrings. “My father is a different story.”
He’d taught her everything—to cook, shoot a gun, thread a needle, dress her dolls, and change the oil in his truck. He let her watch scary movies and encouraged her to read everything she could get her hands on.
Hayden wiped his mouth and took a drink of coffee. “He died when you were how old?”
“Ten.”
“What happened?”
She set down the biscuit she’d taken a bite from, her appetite gone. “He was coming out of the office he shared with Daniel and was shot in a drive-by. The police never caught the shooter.” And her life had been ripped to shreds.
Her first true taste of injustice.
Wasn’t it because of this injustice that she went into the field she did? That she acted on Daniel’s suggestion that she hire out to the FBI? How ironic that the ones who paid her salary were now after her.
“I’m sorry, Bella.”
“He was a good man. Daniel had met him when Dad was right out of law school. They met on a golf course, if you can believe that.” She wiped away the tears misting her vision. “Daniel invited him into his private practice before Dad even took the bar exam.”
Hayden set his napkin on top of his plate.
She did the same, although she’d barely touched her breakfast. “He took Dad under his wing. Helped him in the industry. Taught him the way around the courts.” She smiled as memories rolled through her mind. “Neither of them ever missed anything of mine. Ballet recitals. First crushes. Concerts.”
Taking another sip of coffee, she stared out over the bayou. “When Dad died, Daniel never hesitated. He’d been my godfather all my life. He was the only family I had. It was never a question of if I’d live with him and if he would become my guardian.” She shrugged. “He got all the paperwork done and it was legal within months.”
“I hate to keep saying I’m sorry, but that’s all I can think of. I truly hurt for you.” Hayden flashed her a gentle smile.
She smiled back. “It’s okay. But losing Daniel to such a violent crime too . . . well, now you can understand why I’m mad at God.” That was putting it mildly. All these years later and she was still so angry.
“But you know Scripture so well. You must’ve had a Christian upbringing.”
“Yes. My father was a very religious man. After he died, Daniel tried to keep up a Christian home. It just didn’t work. I was angry, he didn’t know what he was doing—before long, he just gave up.” She remembered the feeling. “I don’t blame him. I was relieved when he did. I never wanted to disappoint Daniel, but it was all an act.”
“But if you were raised as a Christian, you know that—”
She stood and lifted her plate. “Please don’t try to preach to me now, Hayden. I know the Bible. I don’t deny there’s a God. I don’t argue the point. I’m mad at Him. That’s my personal business, okay?”
He grabbed his plate and put it in the sink. “Fine. But I’m going to be praying for you, no matter what you say.”
She shook her head. “Knock yourself out.” She rinsed the dishes and handed them to Hayden, who put them in the dishwasher. “Just keep your prayers to yourself.”
Shutting the dishwasher door, he grabbed a rag and wiped his hands. “Well then, let’s see those cases. We should be able to get a lead.”
Good. He’d let the matter drop. She led the way to the living room, grabbed the papers he’d brought. “None of these ring any bells. Daniel never talked about any of them.”
He grabbed the file and sat on the couch, flipping through the pages. “Okay, let’s start on the last ones for the month before his murder. You take these three.” He passed her pages. “And I’ll take these two. Let’s find out if those agents were involved in either case. If not, I think we can eliminate them.” He reached for his iPad, rattling off his login information so she could also get into the legal database system.
She sat at her computer desk and began searching. Using Hayden’s login ensured no red flags would be raised that would put her in danger. There were limited documents, but the dockets of each trial were a matter of public record. That would contain the pretrial motions, including the witness lists. If Lars or Jack were involved with the case, they would be listed as potential witnesses.
Ten minutes garnered the government’s witness list for the first case. FBI agents were listed, but not Lars Hartlock or Jack Devane. Dead end. She began her hunt on the second trial.
What if they didn’t find anything? Where would they go if they couldn’t find a connection in Daniel’s last cases—go back further? No, that wasn’t right. It had to be a recent trial. Unless the witness who came to Daniel waited a long time to tell him. She ran her fingers through her hair, tightening the strands in her hand and tugging.
The government’s witness list from the second case came up on the computer screen. Bella leaned forward and chewed on her bottom lip. Scanning . . . reading . . . all the way to the end. Nope, no Hartlock or Devane.
She cleared the information and started the search on the third one. This was going nowhere. They wouldn’t find any connection. If it’d been this easy, she would have thought to do it years ago.
Bella was more than a little embarrassed she hadn’t considered stealing Hayden’s login information years ago and doing this. Maybe that was a good thing—she hadn’t turned into a full-fledged criminal. She smiled to herself. Not yet.
“I found it. Both agents were on the witness list for this trial.”
She spun and faced Hayden, her heart hammering so hard it hurt her ribs. Could they really be on the right track? After all this time, would justice finally be served for Daniel?
“Sorry I didn’t call last night. We got into town later than I’d anticipated.” Hartlock peered over the top of the diner’s laminated menu. “By the time we got settled in the motel and grabbed something to eat, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“No problem.” Rafe worked to sip on his coffee without his displeasure being easy to read.
Devane shifted in his chair. “What’s good here?”
Rafe shrugged. “It’s all good.” Good, but a little spicy. Maybe the agents would get upset stomachs and head back to Little Rock. He swallowed. That was mean, even if he was only teasing. Kinda.
“Might watch out for the spices. Has a little bit of a kick.”
“Thanks.” Devane concentrated back on the menu.
The young waitress sashayed back to their table with a pot of coffee. “You boys ready to order?” She smiled a little too long at Rafe, the obvious youngster of the trio.
They placed their orders, Devane ordering enough to feed all three of them. The waitress left, then tense silence hung as heavy as the bacon grease in the gravy.
“So,” Hartlock began, “anything new?”
Rafe took a sip of hot coffee. “Yes, I solved the whole thing since I heard from you yesterday.” He forced a chuckle. “Did you get any hits with the photos?”
“No. We showed them to all the old security guards at Daniel’s subdivision. And to the students who clerked for Daniel. And to the interns in the courthouse. No one recognized Hayden Simpson at all.”
Devane shook his head. “You might be right and the man didn’t know Tate was his father.”
“I believe he didn’t have a clue.” That was the truth.
Hartlock cleared his throat. “What about this Bella Miller?”
Rafe clenched his hand under the table, curling it into a tight fist. “She’s Simpson’s best friend.”
“What do you think she knows?”
Shrugging, Rafe relaxed his hand and reached for his cup. “She moved here a couple of years ago, is younger than Simpson, so she really has no ties to the area or its history. Or the Simpsons.”
Although she knew about Tate being Simpson’s father before Mrs. Simpson told her, and there was no explanation for that, Rafe didn’t want to bring that fact to the table just yet. Not until he figured out how she knew.
The waitress delivering their meals broke Hartlock’s study of Rafe. The smell of the sausage nearly turned his stomach, but he smiled at the waitress as he thanked her. When she left, Rafe bowed his head and offered up grace, then lifted his eyes to meet the ASAC’s stare.
“You into all that religion stuff?”
Rafe paused in unwrapping his silverware, his muscles tensing. “I’m a Christian, yes.”
“How’s that work in this profession?” Devane poured salt and pepper over his scrambled eggs.
“What do you mean?” Rafe asked.
Devane swallowed, then took a gulp of coffee. “Christians aren’t supposed to lie or cuss or anything, right?”
Rafe nodded.
“As an agent, how do you get around all that?” Devane shoved a forkful of sunny-side up fried eggs and scattered southern hash browns into his mouth.
The man ate with such relish it was almost hard to be disgusted. Hard, but not impossible.
“As agents, we’re called to an even higher standard than other people. Just like Christians hold themselves to a higher moral standard than nonbelievers.” Which is why Rafe knew he’d been such a sinner to have loved Georgia, even though he’d fallen in love with her before he’d given his life to God. Of course, he found it extremely ironic that Georgia was the one who’d led him to Jesus.
“You really think that?” Hartlock paused in his precise cutting and eating of his pancakes, snatching Rafe’s attention.
“I do.” Something nudged against Rafe’s conscience. “Don’t you?”
Hartlock shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t know. I’m not into all that religion stuff.”
That explained a lot. Rafe refrained from going into a salvation sermon. This wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place, and Hartlock most definitely wasn’t open to the conversation.
“I’ll need to talk with this Hayden myself.” Hartlock switched subjects so quickly, it took Rafe a moment to recover.
“Certainly. Won’t be a problem. But it is a weekend.” Hartlock never did explain why he couldn’t wait until Monday. Did they think Rafe was down here on vacation or something?
“I like the element of surprise, don’t you?” Using Rafe’s own words . . . did Alphonse tell Hartlock everything?
“When it’s something to surprise, yeah, I do.” He managed to swallow a bite of toast despite the strained conversation.
Devane, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have a problem as he finished off his biscuits and gravy in a large bite, then noisily ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’m anxious to meet Daniel Tate’s son.”
“You have to remember Simpson’s not exactly thrilled over the revelation. He had quite a shock. He adored the man who raised him, the man he believed to be his father.” Rafe forced his expression to remain neutral.
“Of course,” Devane replied.
Hartlock shoved his plate toward the center of the table. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hold my impression until after I’ve met the man.”
“Understandable.” Rafe finished his coffee. What would Hartlock think about Rafe sharing the file with Simpson?
Probably wouldn’t be too happy. More than likely, he’d be furious and write up Rafe.
“You didn’t mention to him that more agents were coming, did you?” Hartlock’s eyes were barely narrowed, but enough for Rafe to get the point.
“No.” But two could play his game. “Did you want me to?”
Hartlock hesitated, just long enough for the hairs on the back of Rafe’s neck to notice. “Of course not.”
Rafe forced the smile as he motioned to the waitress for the check. “Good. Very good.”
“Do you have any idea where Hayden is today?”
“Could be at home. I doubt he’s at the station.”
The waitress handed Rafe the check. Hartlock took it out of his hand. “I’ll put it on my expense account.” His smile was colder than the last sip of coffee in Rafe’s cup.
“Thanks.” Rafe struggled to his feet. He shoved the chair back up to the table, scraping the legs against the time-worn floor, and led the way out of the diner.
The wind gusted as the three agents exited. Leaves danced across the parking lot, flipping and twirling.
“And Bella Miller. I’ll want to speak with her as well.” Hartlock crossed his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find her today, would you?”
Rafe’s mouth went drier than the brown leaves littering the curb. “No.”
Hartlock nodded. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
What was Hartlock’s interest in Bella? Those hairs on the back of Rafe’s neck rose to full attention.