Pippa
Could the timing be any worse?
It’s a good thing this cabin is open concept or we wouldn’t be able to fit all these bodies in.
First, my sister showed up right as we were sitting down to breakfast, which Sloane and Sully had prepared while I was in the shower. Fletch trailed in behind her carrying the baby and looking a little sheepish. Nella was on a tear, not hesitating to give me the big sister talking to about looking after myself. She got up into Sully’s face about not looking after me, which I didn’t appreciate, but by then she was on a roll, insisting I’d have to move in with her so she could make sure herself I was properly looked after.
Then she burst into tears and almost got me going, just as Jonas and Bo arrived on the scene. Jonas alerting us to the fact the feds were coming up the driveway.
Which brings us to now, nine adults and a baby packed in a relatively small space. Six guys glaring at each other, the air heavy with testosterone—despite the fair amount of pregnancy and postpartum hormones in the room—and baby Hunter so overwhelmed by the thick atmosphere he starts crying.
Agents Wolff and Powell, two different agents from the ones who showed up at the garage yesterday, but some of the guys seem to know them. It didn’t take me long to figure out these two were the ones searching the cabin and my rig.
“We’d like to speak to you alone,” Powell announces to me.
“Not gonna happen,” Sully growls before I can respond. “Anything you want to ask her you’ll have to do in front of us.”
Powell throws him a look. “We could always bring her in for questioning.”
“Not without her lawyer,” Sully retorts.
“Interesting that you feel your wife needs a lawyer. I wonder why that is?”
“Because I don’t trust you fuckers. You handcuffed my wife, stuck her in the back of a hot car, and left her there. She ended up in the fucking hospital.”
Yeah, this isn’t going anyplace good. I put a hand on Sully’s arm to remind him I’m fine but I’m not sure he notices.
“Need I remind you we found a weapon in your wife’s possession?” Powell brings up.
“That’s not hers and you know it,” my sister throws in for good measure, beating Sully to the punch.
I can feel my anxiety building and my blood pressure creeping up. Time to take charge and put a stop to this.
“All right! That’s enough,” I intervene. “This is not productive.”
The last is for Sully’s ears in particular. He needs to tone down on the big, bad, protector schtick because all he’s doing right now is antagonizing Powell.
“I will answer any questions you have, but I’ll do it here,” I address the agents before looking around the room. “I’d suggest anyone who thinks they can’t keep their thoughts to themselves leave now. I appreciate the show of support, but I won’t hesitate to kick you out later if needed.” Then I pin Sully with a glare. “And that includes you.”
Someone starts chuckling but I don’t bother looking who it is, my eyes are locked on Sully. His look tells me he wasn’t expecting that and he opens his mouth to protest, but I beat him to it.
“Look. Me, you, and everyone else here know the FBI is barking up the wrong tree,” I tell him. “Eventually they will come to that conclusion as well. Let me just get this over with.”
The only one who leaves is Bo, with a nod and a wink for me. But the others all remain.
Most of the agents’ questions are pretty straightforward. Where did I get the gun? Nowhere, since it’s not mine. Who had access to your motorhome? Anyone with a key or a decent lock-pick set. Could I account for my whereabouts from May fourteenth to May twenty fourth? Had I lent out my rig to anyone? What would I say if my fingerprints were found on the weapon?
I can feel the angry vibes coming of Sully, but it’s Nella who speaks up.
“You didn’t find her fingerprints, did you?” I’m tempted to cut her off like I promised I would, but I’m actually interested to hear what they have to say, except Nella is not done. “There wouldn’t be any, because my sister didn’t touch any gun, and whoever planted it in her motorhome wouldn’t want theirs found. I bet you the gun, as well as the storage locker, showed no prints at all,” she concludes.
From the sour look on Powell’s face, she struck a nerve with him, but the other agent seems amused. He ends up the one to respond.
“Both were clean,” he admits.
“We don’t know that. Not until forensics has a chance to go over the camper and the gun,” Agent Powell provides.
“When do you figure I’ll get my rig back?” I direct my question at Wolff, since he’s the one more likely to give me a straight answer.
“Provided they don’t find anything of concern, you should have it back in a day or two.”
I hadn’t noticed it missing until this morning when I spotted a receipt for everything the FBI collected yesterday. I’d been shocked to see they’d taken Sully’s computer, but according to Sloane they’d taken the one from the office at the Pit Stop as well. Not sure what they’re expecting to find, but it’s an annoyance.
By the time the agents leave—Powell with a warning for me not to leave town—I’m already exhausted, though it’s not quite ten in the morning. Jonas walks the agents out the front as Sloane ducks out the back door, with the announcement she’s got ‘stuff to do.’
Nella, who had disappeared into the spare bedroom at some point to feed a fussy Hunter, walks in with the baby over her shoulder. My chest blooms with love for my sister, who not only pushed that chunk of delicious baby into the world only ten days ago, but doesn’t let that slow her down or stop her from trying to slay my dragons for me.
“You rock,” I tell her when I pluck the mini-hunk from her shoulder and transfer him to mine.
“You’re pretty fierce yourself,” Sully observes, sliding a hand on the small of my back while he brushes a finger softly over Hunter’s downy cheek.
Not to be left behind, Fletch adds, “No one messes with the Freling sisters.”
Damn.
They’re going to have me bawling again.
Sully
The dogs run up to my truck barking, as I pull up to the farmhouse. They easily recognize me when I get out and their fierce barks turn into eager whines as they battle for my attention. I sink down on my haunches to give them just that.
Where the dogs are, Lucy isn’t far behind, and vice versa. The animals are protective of her, which is good. May not be a bad idea for us to get a dog at some point. It would make me feel a bit better about leaving Pippa if we’re called away on a job. Something else to ask Lucy about.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I grin up at the blond firecracker. I like Lucy, she’s a force to be reckoned with, like every other woman choosing these rugged mountains to settle down in. A tough exterior hiding a vulnerability for another man to discover. I may have an idea who’d like a shot at that, but I fear he’ll have an uphill battle on his hands.
Lucy isn’t one to beat around the bush so I don’t either.
“The FBI is looking at Pippa for the murder of four hunters, including Congresswoman Yokum’s son.”
“What the fuck?”
“They found a rifle they think may be the weapon in an outside storage compartment of her motorhome.”
“And you want to know if anyone could’ve gotten access to it while parked here,” she finishes for me, proving she’s not only smart, she’s a good friend to my wife as well. Not even a moment’s hesitation to come to the conclusion someone is messing with Pippa.
“Got it in one.”
“I’m gonna have to think, because it’s been here for quite a few months in total.”
If it is in fact the rifle that shot those hunters, whoever planted it must’ve done so after Yokum was shot. He’d been dead at least a couple of days, if not longer, when we found him.
“Only the past month, I’m guessing.”
“Why don’t you come in, I’ve gotta check the schedule.”
I follow her into the house where she heads straight for the kitchen, pulling a calendar off the fridge door. She drops it on the counter and starts flipping through pages.
“Had a total of six different clients, a feed delivery, a horse drop-off, and two visits from the vet, according to this. I don’t see how any of them would have anything to do with this. They don’t know Pippa, other than maybe seeing her here,” Lucy volunteers.
“What about people who do know her? Did she have visitors while she was living with you?”
I would’ve asked Pippa herself, but after the feds left this morning, she crashed and I left her with Sloane to keep an eye out. I was actually on my way to the garage to catch up with Barkley, who is supposed to be installing cameras today, and happened to look over when I passed the rescue, noticing Lucy’s truck out by the barn.
“A few. Her sister, of course, and her friend, Marcie, she came by a few times. I can’t remember—wait, there was this guy from that anti-baiting group she’s part of.” She shakes her head. “I can’t remember if she told me his name. I think it was after some kind of group meeting. She’d had a couple of drinks so he dropped her off here.”
My mind immediately goes to that idiot who showed up at the garage with a hard-on for Pippa.
“Cade Jackson ring a bell?”
“Only Jackson I know is Jackson’s Automotive in town. That Jackson worked on my previous truck a few times, but I haven’t been there since I got the new wheels last year.”
I never thought to connect Cade Jackson to the only other garage in town, but now I do. That guy already popped up in my mind as someone who might be messing with Pippa at the Pit Stop. That might make even more sense if it turns out he’s related to the Jackson of Jackson’s Automotive.
“Not the same guy?”
“The mechanic is probably in his late sixties or seventies. The guy who dropped Pippa off was younger and I haven’t seen him since.”
Lucy may not have seen him but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t here at some point.
I think maybe I should look into Cade Jackson. I could see him doing petty shit like breaking windows or dropping water in gas tanks, but this might mean he could be a killer hunting down and cold-bloodedly shooting his victims in the back.
I thank Lucy, get back in my truck, and head over to the Pit Stop, where I find Ira working on Sloane’s Honda. It’s the only car in the garage.
“No customers?” I ask him when I walk up.
“Two cancellations and a no-show this morning,” he grumbles. He looks as pissed as I feel. “Small town. Word gets around.”
“Or someone is helping it go around,” I suggest.
Fuck. This’ll set Pippa back even further.
“I see we’re of one mind,” Ira says. “But in this case, it legit could’ve been anyone driving by here yesterday. It was a bit of a circus.”
He’s not lying. The number of vehicles parked out here, a forensics van, and at some point the ambulance as well, I’m surprised someone wasn’t selling tickets on the side of the road. Nothing much happens in Libby without the whole fucking town knowing.
“Did Barkley not come around?”
I notice his truck isn’t parked outside. If he bailed on Pippa as well, I will not be too pleased.
“He was here. Hung the cameras but couldn’t do much more without the computer the feds hauled off with.”
Christ, every damn day it’s a new snag. Whoever has it out for Pippa is doing a damn fucking good job. I’m going to have to give him a call.
“You familiar with Jackson’s Automotive?”
His response is to clear his throat, turn his head, and spit a loogie out the rolled-up bay door. Nothing ambivalent about that answer.
“Is Cade Jackson connected to Jackson’s Automotive?”
“It’s his uncle’s.”
“You don’t say…”
I think it’s high time I paid Wayne Ewing a visit, make sure he’s still looking farther than his nose is long, and that he’s not missing possible leads.
And just in case the sheriff is preoccupied with something else, I will be doing a little checking myself.
Sloane does not get her computer skills from a stranger, and my fingers itch to dig a little deeper into what makes Cade Jackson tick.
“You know all this is bullshit, right?”
Ewing looks up from his desk and the moment he sees me, he drops back in his chair, his eyes rolling to the ceiling.
“What do you want, Eckhart? You know this is out of my hands,” he shares, exasperated.
“You’re telling me you don’t have any input? I thought you were part of the task force.”
“That was before we found Leroy Yokum dead. The moment the congresswoman was informed, it became an FBI case. I only know what they want me to know, which isn’t a hell of a lot. The only person who doesn’t treat me like I’m suddenly an enemy of the state is Wolff.”
I drop down in one of the visitor chairs on the other side of his desk.
“What about the vandalism at the auto shop? Is that still your case? Because I think the same person planted that rifle in Pippa’s RV.”
“You’re looking at me to undermine the FBI’s case against your girlfriend,” he accuses, leaning forward, his elbows on his desk.
I’m not in the least offended because I’d make a deal with the fucking devil at this point to protect Pippa.
“She’s my wife, and no, what I am asking you to do is the job you were elected to do. What does that plaque on your wall say, Wayne? Committed to our community? Fillippa is part of that community as well. An innocent woman—a member of the community you’re supposed to be committed to—is being railroaded.”
Ewing hunches over and bangs his forehead on the desk a few times.
“You’re killing me, Sully,” he groans. “Retirement is eighteen fucking months away and you want me to start rocking the boat.”
“You bet I do. Starting with Cade Jackson.”