“YOUR NIECE IS missing? That sure is an interesting coincidence, but I’m actually on vacation right now.” She chuckled, hoping it didn’t sound too flat. They would get more out of a belligerent sheriff who didn’t think they wanted to take over his case. Later, if Liam and the team confirmed the girl’s disappearance was the work of the Chloroform Killer, he could tell the sheriff who they were. “What makes you think this Gabe guy is involved?”
The sheriff sniffed. “He was the last one to see her alive.”
“So you’re thinking homicide?”
“Can’t be sure until we find her.” The old man cleared his throat and a dour mood descended like a sudden rain storm five seconds after nothing but clear skies.
Liam stepped closer. “Are you sure you don’t want any help? We’re here and all.”
“No, no.” The sheriff took a couple of steps back. “Like I said, this is local business.” He waved and headed for his vehicle. “You folks take care.”
“Sheriff!” Casey trotted down the steps and caught up to him by his SUV. “You mind if I stop by your office? I’d like to talk to Gabe Thompson, see if he knows why my dad gave up his cabin.”
He surveyed her face. “My people have more important things to take care of right now than entertaining special agents on vacation.”
“And I’d really like to ask why you appear to be investigating your own niece’s disappearance instead of calling in the State Patrol to take over, but I’m not.”
The sheriff wrung his hands together. There was a long silence and then he said, “You can have five minutes.”
He got in his patrol car. Caisey watched him drive away and turned to Liam. “Okay, so…that was weird.”
“No kidding. His niece is missing and he has a possible suspect in custody. He came here for some reason, but didn’t go inside. And he doesn’t want help because we’re from out of town.”
“Doesn’t mean he isn’t going to get help, whether he wants it or not.”
Liam grinned. “I knew there was a reason you’re my partner.”
“So here’s the plan—”
“How come you get to make the plan? You’re on vacation.”
Caisey rolled her eyes. “Because.”
“Let me guess, you wanna go see if this Gabe guy is the same man your dad knew?”
“Right.”
“And you want me to ask around about the missing girl and find out what’s going on?”
Caisey grinned. “However did you guess that?”
“And the cabin?”
“Chances are Gabe Thompson bought it fair and legal.” She frowned. “What are you going to do about the front door? You bashed it in.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
Caisey laughed. “I’m sorry, your honor. I didn’t mean to stab her six times, I was really mad and she just sort of…fell on the knife.”
“Don’t remind me. That case was awful.”
“You’re the one who volunteered us.”
“I’ll fix the door, okay? You’d better go or you’ll be late for your date.”
“What date?”
Liam didn’t say anything. The look on his face was enough. “It might not be him.”
“But if it is then this is huge, right?”
Caisey put one hand on her hip. “What exactly do you think you know?”
“Jenna sort of, might have, mentioned something to Andrea about a long lost love of yours. Some perfect date where you talked all night and it was magical and you just knew— ”
She held up one hand. “Enough. It wasn’t like that. You make it sound hokey. It wasn’t. It was…”
Liam pushed her hand away. “It was what?”
Caisey chewed her lip.
“You love him.”
“I do not.”
“Do too.”
“We’re not having this conversation.”
Liam trailed behind her, all the way to her car door. “Seriously? It was one date, how can you fall in love with someone in one night?”
Caisey spun back. “I don’t know, okay?”
“You didn’t...uh...you know?”
“No. It was a date.”
“How can you be sure it was the Gabe who testified for your dad?”
“His picture was in the newspaper.” She paused. “I can’t explain it. I just know it happened, okay?”
“Sparks?”
She sighed.
Liam tipped his head back and laughed at full volume.
Caisey swung her car door open and was disappointed he got out of the way before it collided with him.
“I can’t believe it.” He laughed some more. “You’re a romantic.”
Casey rolled the window down. “Goodbye, Liam. I hope you get mauled by a wild boar while I’m gone.”
**
Caisey drove down the hill with a grin stretching her cheeks. When she hit the main road she checked her phone for messages before pulling onto the blacktop.
What would she do if it really was Gabe, her Gabe? She’d existed so long on a memory, what if she’d been wrong? The whole idea of sparks was ridiculous, like they even meant anything. Sure, part of her didn’t mind holding onto something magical that was just hers. Grams had made sure Caisey never lost hold of that sense of wonder she said was inside everyone, but fanciful wasn’t going to help her. It would just complicate everything.
She had plenty to fill her life—personal and professional—without getting involved with someone on the basis of a seventeen-year-old attraction that was apparently one-sided anyway.
The sheriff’s office was a single level building with low windows on the outside wall, which meant it probably had a basement of cells. Two county vehicles were parked adjacent to the building. Caisey pulled up beside an all-black Harley that belonged out front of a biker bar, or a custom motorcycle shop. Inside held the vague scent of cigarette smoke underlain with burned coffee and body odor.
Behind the yellowed Formica counter was a guy whose head almost grazed the ceiling. Six-foot-five at least, his chin had more hair than his head. He was at least fifty and his shirt sleeves were rolled back to reveal sleeves of tattoos. Since he had on jeans and a tan shirt, she figured he was probably a civilian employee of the county.
“Hey.”
He looked up from a motorcycle magazine.
Caisey smiled. “That your Dyna Glide outside?”
“Sure is.”
“It’s sweet.”
He grinned and lifted his chin. “Help you?”
Caisey flashed her badge. “Special Agent Caisey Lyons, but this isn’t official business.”
He flipped the magazine closed. “Big Al.”
“Nice to meet you, Big Al.” She didn’t shake his hand, just gave it a solid squeeze and released.
“You here about Emily?”
“Is that the sheriff’s niece who went missing?”
“Yeah.” Big Al shook his head. “Weird, you know?”
“The sheriff said I could get a minute with Gabe Thompson. Sheriff Allens said he was here.”
“You think he had something to do with Emma?”
“Do you?”
Big Al blew out a breath and rested his elbows on the counter. “Seems like a solid guy. I ain’t never seen him at the tavern and his car is outside the little church up the street every Sunday morning, even when I’m out with the snowplow. But you never know, right? Isn’t it always the quiet ones?”
He lifted the end of the counter and let her through. The main room held four desks and at the back wall was an office with the Sheriff’s name stenciled on the glass. The blinds were shut. Big Al’s computer screen showed four windows—camera feeds of the cells. One occupied, three empty.
Caisey motioned to his cup. “Got any more of that coffee?”
“Sure, darlin’.”
A woman in a black Harley tank top and skinny jeans sat at the desk in the far corner. While Big Al filled a cup from the coffee pot on the opposite wall, Caisey watched the woman talk into her headset. She waved her hand, complete with long red nails. “Are you serious, girl? I can’t believe he’d do that. Not again. Sure enough, I’ll get someone out to you a-sap.”
She pressed a button on the mic in front of her. “Bud, hon, this is dispatch. Got an idiot ex-husband causing a disturbance at sixty-seven Alto Street.”
Big Al stepped in front of Caisey. “That’s my old lady, Babs. Got a job here about three seconds after I did, thinks it’ll save me getting into trouble if she’s here to keep an eye on me.” His chuckle sounded like a bear clearing its throat.
Caisey smiled. “Cells are downstairs?” Big Al nodded. “Let the sheriff know I’m headed down there.”
“Sure thing, darlin’. Take care.”
“I always do.”
Caisey took the coffee to the door at the back. The steps were concrete and her boot heels echoed. She turned the corner at the bottom and saw a row of four cells lit by fluorescents. They were all empty except for a guy at the end, stretched out on his back on the cot with his hands under his head, elbows out. A pair of glasses sat folded on his chest and goose-bumps covered his forearms. She’d been right about the t-shirt and pajama pants she saw on the surveillance.
“Here—”
His eyes flew open.
“Hot coffee.”
He snagged his glasses and slipped them on. His eyes widened. “You.”
“Seriously this cup is hot.”
He came over, his eyes on her the whole time he took those measured steps, like he had all the time in the world and wanted to savor it.
Caisey dropped her hands and clenched and unclenched her fingers. “Gabe Carlen.”
“You know?”
“Thompson now, right?”
“That’s right.” Both hands on the mug, he sipped. The steam fogged up his glasses. He was about four inches taller than her, which put him at average height for a man, but that was being generous. “Caisey Lyons.” He grinned. “It’s been a while.”
It took everything she had, even biting the inside of her cheeks, but she held back the smile. “Special Agent Caisey Lyons.”
She’d been seventeen and him twenty-one when they went on the date to end all other dates. Though she’d told him she was older. A week later, after he hadn’t called or returned her calls, his uncle abducted her.
“Are you here to arrest me?”
“Do you need arresting?”
His smile was easy and softened the fatigue in his eyes. “A trick question. Clever.”
“I thought so.”
“I’d rather get dressed and get breakfast.”
“It’s after lunch.”
His eyebrows lifted. “No kidding?”
Caisey nodded. “I take it the accommodations at Chateau Buckshot aren’t up to par?”
“You could say that.” The smile in his eyes darkened. “Seriously though, they said questioning. Am I being arrested?”
“I’ll find out what’s going on and get someone to rustle you up some food.”
“I really sorry something happened to Emma, but I had nothing to do with it.”
Caisey took a step back. Evidence didn’t lie and while she was as sure as she could be that Gabe wasn’t lying, she still wasn’t going to do anything that could blow back on her professionally. “I’ll be back, okay?”
Gabe took another sip and nodded. “I’d appreciate that. Oh, and Caisey?”
She lifted her chin.
He grinned. “It’s really nice to see you again.”
Caisey climbed the concrete stairs and sighed.
Stupid sparks.
**
Sheriff Allens lowered the volume on the surveillance and picked up his phone. As soon as he heard Special Agent Lyons say the name Gabe Carlen, he put it all together. While it rang, he picked at a strip of the plastic on the surface of his desk that had somehow come loose. One of the drawers didn’t shut, and no one knew where the key was for the other. He’d purchased the safe in the corner with his own money, but years ago. No doubt it needed replacing. The only thing that was top of the line around here was surveillance—on the office and at his home.
“Yes?”
“It’s Frank Allens.”
There was a click and the phone rang once, which was surprising given how long it had been since he’d made a call like this.
“Arturo.” This voice was older, rich and cultured but with an undertone of ruthlessness that wasn’t to be ignored.
“It’s Frank Allens.”
“Well, well, well. It’s been a while. What brought you crawling back now?”
Frank sneered. He wasn’t going to apologize, that was for sure. “Got a man down in my cells by the name of Gabe Carlen. Figured you might want to know.”
“He’s been living in your town this whole time?” The voice was low and lethal, like it had been the night Holden Arturo found out Frank had been sleeping with his wife.
“I’m trying to do you a favor here. You could at least be grateful.”
“Grateful to you?” Holden snorted. “All those years in hick-ville must have rotted your brain. Or were you always this stupid? You think I don’t already know where my nephew is? I’ve been on Caisey Lyon’s trail since she left Denver and the stupid girl led me right to his doorstep. So don’t act like this is some grand gesture you’re going to use to crawl your way out of the sewer. You might have been a police chief once, but that was a long time ago.”
Frank slammed the phone down. He should have known Holden would be on top of all this. No plan had ever gone off without something interfering—he rubbed his leg where the bullet from Samuel Lyons’ gun had torn through the muscle.
How could he have known that Thompson was, in fact, Gabe Carlen?
Now he would just have to take care of this himself. There was no other way to fix it. He was always the one who got his hands dirty, who put his life and career on the line to pay back one stupid mistake he should never have made in the first place. Holden had been right about one thing. Frank would crawl out of the hole he’d fallen into. He was going to make sure Gabe went to jail for Emma’s murder and everyone believed him to be the Chloroform Killer. That was the only way Frank was going to get his old life back.
His stomach churned, making him reach for the antacids in his drawer.
No wonder he’d snapped before.
Women were nothing but a slow-acting poison, infecting you before you even knew it. His wife had been exactly like that.
Boots clomped outside his door. “Hey, Big Al, can I borrow this?” The reply was muffled. “Sure, darlin’.”
Frank gritted his teeth. Special Agent Lyons. She was twisting his staff to her side already.
The plan had been a long time coming. Frank had to wait for the right time and he’d been so sure this was it. Now because of one little girl with a gun all of it was going to crap, just like the last time. The memory of it soured his stomach further. Families everywhere, ruining his life—one family tied him up in their war and the other showed up to stick their nose in everything he tried to do to get out of it.
The pencil in his hand snapped in two. His computer chimed again, and he clicked the icon at the bottom. Someone was at his house. He grabbed his jacket off the coat tree and stopped at the door. She was nowhere to be seen, so he strode through the office. “I’m out.”
Big Al didn’t look up from his magazine. “Sure, boss.”
Frank hit the front door with a sneer on his face. She wasn’t going to best him.