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Hayley
Hayley hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but a quick check of the clock revealed that two hours had passed since she’d stretched out on the bed and given in to her exhaustion while giving Martha time to do her thing.
It was exactly what she’d needed.
She rose, refreshed, and looked out the window. The familiar sight of mountains off in the distance, protectively surrounding the valley, was comforting. Over the years, she’d seen plenty of mountains, but none had ever filled her with the same sense of home.
Hayley took a moment to enjoy it and then opened her laptop. She scrolled through the case summary and reviewed the salient points. It was more of an exercise to get herself in the right frame of mind than anything. Every fact, every date, every known player was already etched in her mind.
Luther Renninger, local accountant, had bilked many of Sumneyville’s small business owners out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. He’d used his late father’s sterling reputation and the account holders’ money in a slew of shady, often illegal, schemes for years.
None of that surprised Hayley. Luther was a born manipulator. A charismatic, smooth-talking wolf in sheep’s clothing that had been fleecing people his whole life.
Most recently, Luther had discovered a niche market of preppers and survivalists wanting to get their hands on military-grade weaponry, and he used legitimate local businesses to fund his endeavors.
He might have continued indefinitely had he not gotten greedy. The small-time supplier he’d been using—an ex-con friend of her nephew, Dwayne’s—wasn’t able to keep up with demand, and Luther turned to alternate sources. What Luther hadn’t realized was that his new “business partners” were actually front men for a notorious international cartel.
That cartel had been on the Department of Justice’s watchlist for a long time. It was a multifaceted operation, involved in everything from drugs and arms to selling women and children. The DOJ had been waiting for a break, and Luther had unwittingly handed them one on a silver platter when he appeared on their radar.
That was good for the DOJ. Not so good for Luther, who had been missing for almost a year.
The DOJ had had an informant on the inside for a while, gathering intel in the form of names, dates, places and feeding it back. Hayley didn’t know who that person was; no one did, as far as she knew. However, based on the information they’d been able to obtain, it was someone in the Sumneyville inner circle, which—conveniently enough—operated out of the Freed family hunting cabin. According to recent satellite images, the cabin had been expanded into a fully functional prepper compound, complete with barracks and assorted outbuildings.
Luther had been their connection to everything, but now that he was gone, so was the DOJ’s best chance of infiltrating the cartel itself.
Hence, her return to Sumneyville.
Not only was she qualified to conduct a covert investigation, but she was also in the unique position of being personally related to several of Luther’s partners in crime. Her brother, Daryl. Her brother-in-law, Jerry. And of course, her nephew Dwayne, who, during one of his stints in prison, had discovered how lucrative dealing illegal arms could be.
Hayley’s personal connections created a blatant conflict of interest, but her superiors didn’t care about building a case that would stick against Daryl or Jerry or Dwayne. They were simply bait for a much bigger fish—namely, the cartel.
Plus, the DOJ had covered its legal ass by extending her medical leave into a personal leave of absence, which meant that, officially, she was not acting as an agent of the DOJ. Unofficially, she was their best hope of obtaining critical information that would cripple the cartel’s operation in the northeast.
If she was successful, everyone would get what they wanted. The DOJ would get the intel to land a major blow against the cartel, and Hayley would get the chance to finally bring Daryl down in the process.
If she failed, well, she would be on her own.
She didn’t plan on failing.
She took her time in the bathroom. Brushed her teeth and hair. Reapplied some deodorant and a bit of light makeup and then changed her top to one less wrinkled. Appearances were important. She had to look confident and well put together when she went back downstairs.
You are confident and well put together, she reminded herself.
Her office in DC had an entire wall of framed degrees and citations that she’d accumulated over the years. She had hundreds, if not thousands, of hours of training under her belt. She did more than just hold her own. She exceled in a field dominated by men.
She was fucking Karma personified, come back to bite men like Daryl, Jerry, and Luther on the ass.
With that happy thought, Hayley ran a tube of balm over her lips, gave herself a spritz of her favorite body spray, and did a final check in the mirror.
Showtime.
The murmur of excited voices from below assured Hayley that Martha hadn’t let her down. Hayley descended to the landing on silent feet and paused to listen, smiling when she heard several women speculating about the reason for her return.
She wouldn’t have to seek out anyone. They’d come to her.
Hayley didn’t try to soften her footsteps the rest of the way down. She knew she’d been heard when several shushes were uttered and the voices fell silent.
“Well, don’t you look refreshed!” Martha commented, emerging from the dining room. “Feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you. I must have been more tired than I thought. Do you have company?”
“A few members of the Ladies Auxiliary happened by for lunch,” Martha told her. “Would you like to join us?”
There was no “happened by” about it. The Ladies Auxiliary was the heart and soul of the Sumneyville gossip mill. Hayley guessed they’d dropped everything and rushed over as soon as they received Martha’s calls. They probably had a phone chain for expediting important scuttlebutt.
“I don’t want to interrupt your meeting,” Hayley told her.
“Nonsense! You must come in and say hello.”
Before she could protest, Martha grabbed Hayley’s arm with both hands and tugged her toward the dining room.
“Here she is!” Martha proclaimed proudly. “Hayley, dear, you remember Winona Mitchell, Edith and Lydia Schaeffer, Agnes Miller, and of course, Mona Delvecchio.”
“Of course. Hello, ladies.”
Hayley scanned the table of older women. They looked just as they had fifteen years ago. Same hairstyles. Same outfits. Same intense gazes peering out of wizened old faces, sensing a good scoop.
Winona, honorary grandmother to every child born in Sumneyville over the past fifty years, beamed at her.
Edith and Lydia Schaeffer, known as the spinster twins, nodded and tilted their heads in perfect synchronization.
Agnes Miller, the town’s head librarian, regarded her with cunning, assessing eyes.
Mona’s lips were pursed, as if she’d just sucked a lemon, probably miffed that Martha had gotten the scoop before her.
“Hayley Freed, as I live and breathe!” said Lydia, clutching her string of pearls.
“Come in and let us take a look at you,” Edith twittered.
Hayley dutifully stepped into the room.
“My, my, but you’ve grown into a beautiful woman,” Winona said.
“Thank you.”
Martha continued to herd her further into the room and toward an empty seat at the head of the table, as if Hayley was the guest of honor. She proceeded to pour her a glass of iced tea and waved her hand toward several plates of finger sandwiches, trimmed of crusts and cut into neat quarter triangles, as well as fresh fruit, crackers, and assorted dips and cheeses. Clearly, they were going to be there for a while.
“Help yourself, dear.”
They watched her carefully. It was impossible to know who had brought what, but no self-respecting Auxiliary member showed up to an event without something. Hayley took a little bit of everything to be polite and politically correct. Choosing one person’s contribution over another was a serious offense and could have far-reaching consequences.
“What a lovely spread,” Hayley commented. “Do you do this every week?”
Glances were exchanged, confirming Hayley’s theory that this was a special occasion.
Without waiting for an answer, she added, “Well, I think it’s wonderful. You don’t see friends and neighbors getting together to chat and spend time with one another in the big city. Most people don’t even know their neighbors.”
More glances.
“You live in the city then?” asked Agnes.
Hayley nodded. There was no reason not to tell them. “I do. Alexandria, Virginia, right outside of Washington, DC.”
Mona narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were in the Midwest somewhere.”
“I was, for a while. I attended college there. I’ve moved around quite a bit since.”
“You always were a bit of a free spirit,” Winona said with a genuine smile. “What are you doing now? If I recall correctly, you were planning to go into social work.”
“I did,” Hayley said carefully, which was sort of true. The US Marshals Service was the oldest federal law enforcement agency in the country. That counted as social work in her book.
Mona shifted impatiently, anxious to get to the heart of the matter. “What brings you back to Sumneyville?”
Hayley smiled at her. “It seemed like the right time.”
Mona frowned. “The right time for what?”
“To return to my roots. See to unfinished business.”
Martha gasped and flattened her hand against her chest. “Goodness, child! You haven’t been afflicted with a terminal illness, have you?”
“No,” Hayley said on a laugh, though she’d come close to terminal with that last assignment. “Just at a crossroads, if you will.”
“Does Daryl know you’re back in town?” Mona asked.
Trick question. Hayley had a sneaking suspicion Daryl was the first person Mona had called after hearing from Martha.
Mona had always been Daryl’s senior narc, probably because Daryl had ensured that those rumors about her brother, Vic, remained just that—rumors. What Mona didn’t know was Daryl only did so to protect Darius, who’d had no problem providing Vic with exactly what he wanted—for a price, of course.
“I haven’t spoken with him myself, but I imagine the news will reach him quickly, if it hasn’t already.”
Judging by the way Mona’s face reddened, Hayley’s guess had been spot-on.
“I’m sure it has. He’s the police chief now, you know.” That was from Agnes, who was nodding like a proud mother.
Yes, Hayley knew about Daryl’s promotion and doubted the mayoral appointment had been based on merit.
“We haven’t exactly kept in touch,” Hayley said truthfully.
“What about Matthew Winston?” asked Mona, narrowing her eyes again.
All of the ladies leaned forward, and Hayley hid the dull ache in her chest with a smile.
“I haven’t kept in touch with him either. Perhaps I’ll take a run up that way while I’m in town. Do you know if anything’s planned at the resort this week?”
Their collective gasp was unexpected, as were their wide eyes and shocked expressions.
“What? Don’t they do that anymore?” Hayley asked, feeling the first frisson of unease.
“You really don’t know?” asked Winona.
“Know what?”
“Oh dear,” murmured Edith and Lydia together.
A few of them shifted uncomfortably and looked down at their plates. Others regarded her with expressions of sympathy and pity. All except Mona, who looked positively predatory.
“What?” Hayley prompted.
“There was a fire,” Martha finally said quietly. “A few years after you left. The resort was destroyed, and everyone ...” Martha’s voice trailed off.
Hayley felt as if she was going to be sick. “Everyone?”
“Not Matthew,” Winona was quick to add. “He was away at the time. But everyone else.”
“You really didn’t know?” Mona scoffed in disbelief.
“No.” Hayley’s heart and mind railed as violently as her stomach.
A fire. The resort was destroyed. Everyone ...
She hadn’t known because she’d never bothered to check, too afraid of what she might find.
But Matt had lost everything. His home. His family. He must have been devastated.
It was an effort to remain seated at the table when she wanted nothing more than to flee the suffocating closeness of the dining room in favor of open space and fresh air. She glanced around, noting their scrutiny while throwing up walls around the gaping chasm in her chest. Hayley would only reveal what she wanted them to see. Hiding inner turmoil and putting on a show were skills she’d perfected under Daryl’s and Darius’s tutelage.
“How awful,” she said finally. “What else have I missed?”
Several of them blinked. Clearly, they’d been hoping for more of a reaction. If only they could see inside, they’d know that she was barely holding it together.
The need to reach out to Matt was overwhelming, but she tempered it with logic. If the fire had happened years earlier, delaying her heartfelt condolences for a few more hours wasn’t going to matter. It was already too late. She hadn’t been there when he needed her.
If he’d needed her.
Plus, Hayley had no idea where he was or what he was doing, but she would find out. She had high-level security clearance and access to some of the most comprehensive databases in the world. For now, however, she had a part to play.
When no one said anything, Hayley prompted, “Martha said something about Obermacher Farms being sold?”
That was all it took to get the discussion going again. For the next hour, Hayley was treated to conflicting opinions on what had happened. She sat back and listened while they bickered among themselves, mentally sifting through the chatter for helpful nuggets. That meant enduring several digressions involving Rick Obermacher’s extramarital affair, the surprise elopement of the octogenarian Obermacher matriarch, and the advantages of keeping one’s savings under the floorboards rather than in someone else’s hands.
During a particularly long-winded rant, Hayley glanced out the window and saw a police car pull up along the curb.
Well, that took longer than I’d thought.
Martha noticed her gaze and looked out, too. The rest of the ladies followed suit, Mona’s voice eventually trailing off when she realized no one was listening anymore.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Hayley said. She pushed away from the table and proceeded to Martha’s front porch, preferring to have her and Daryl’s initial encounter out in the open.
The fine hairs at the back of her neck prickled the moment she stepped into sight. She scanned the street, narrowing her gaze on a dark SUV down the block that hadn’t been there earlier. It was similar to her own vehicle but slightly larger.
Hayley turned her attention back to the cruiser now blocking the B & B’s driveway and almost laughed. Did Daryl think she planned to make a break for it?
She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned against a post, and waited. When Daryl realized she had no intention of walking out to him, he got out of the vehicle and approached the house.
Hayley’s first impression: the years hadn’t been kind to him. He looked older and more haggard than the last time she’d seen him. His hair was thinner, his paunch thicker.
Her second: he wasn’t particularly happy to see her. His expression was grim, his mouth set in a scowl.
Too bad.
He stopped six feet away from the porch, hands on hips, his feet in a classic power stance. “Hayley.”
“Daryl.”
“Didn’t know you were back.”
“Probably because I didn’t tell you I was coming.”
His lips thinned. His eyes flicked to the series of large, open windows. Hayley didn’t have to look to know Martha and the others were watching the scene unfold.
“What are you doing here?”
“As I was just telling the ladies, I’m revisiting my roots. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
He shifted his weight. “We should talk.”
“We should,” she agreed. “Maybe later tonight, around seven?”
“What’s wrong with right now?”
“I’m having a delightful lunch and getting caught up on everything I’ve missed. Apparently, I’ve missed a lot.” She smiled benignly.
His scowl deepened.
“Does Franco’s still make that incredible carbonara? How about I pick up some takeout and come by the house later?”
His eyes narrowed—a sure sign that he didn’t like that idea at all. With everyone watching and listening, however, he had to be careful about what he said and did. He, too, had a role to play.
“Sure.” His forced smile resembled a grimace.
“See you then.”
Hayley saw the telltale clench of his jaw at her obvious dismissal and withheld her smile. If he thought he could still call the shots, he was sorely mistaken.
Daryl looked toward the window, touched the brim of his hat, and nodded to the ladies. “Ladies.”
She waited until he got back into his car and drove away before she reentered the house. Unsurprisingly, the women were whispering among themselves as they cleared the table. They stopped when Hayley appeared in the archway to the dining room.
“Is everything all right, dear?” Winona asked.
“Peachy,” Hayley replied. “My brother and I are going to catch up over dinner,” she added unnecessarily, knowing full well that they’d heard every word. “So, what else do I need to know about what’s been happening?”