“True confession time. I wanted to be a detective when I grew up.” Rebecca sent a shy smile to Kurt in the front of the truck.
He flashed her a lopsided grin. “Why does that not surprise me?” His eyes darted from the rearview mirror to the side mirror, and he kept his hands tight around the steering wheel.
Despite her objections, they’d been forced to wait until morning to visit Levi Garner. The bridge had to be repaired, since there was no other way across the river unless they wanted to drive over an hour around the lake, and Kurt had refused to take her out after dark. She just hoped the accountant was there. She called the resort’s corporate offices and Levi’s number again before they’d left in the event he’d returned. He hadn’t.
Her audit couldn’t be submitted in good faith without following through on the flash drive. More than that, she needed proof she hadn’t imagined the numbers.
Rebecca had yet to admit it to anyone, but the fear that she’d invented the highlighted rows and the scratch on the flash drive had plagued her nightmares for the second night in a row. It terrified her that falling on those rocks might’ve done more damage than a headache and sore muscles. She needed to be able to trust her thoughts and memory or she wouldn’t be fit to work, not as an auditor, at least.
Still, the extra rest seemed to have done the handsome deputy some good. His eyes looked clearer, without the reddened signs of water or lack of sleep. “You didn’t pursue becoming a detective because of your father?” he asked.
She shrugged. “If you think about it from a different perspective, being an auditor is kind of like being a detective. Numbers, like hard evidence, don’t lie. Either everything adds up or I go after the truth until it does.”
“So you like it.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Did she? She hadn’t taken time lately to evaluate it. “I wanted to see more of the country. So when I found out there was such a thing as a traveling accountant, it sounded like a great option. I’ve been to almost every major city in the country and lots of small towns.”
“Favorites?”
“Uh… I don’t know. I try hard to see the sights before I leave, but to be honest, the majority of the time I’m inside a hotel or airplane.”
“I travel a lot, too. I get it.”
She believed him. For a man of such few words, it surprised her that he’d admitted that much. “Did you always want to be a marshal?”
“No.” His jaw tensed.
The man went back and forth from being warm and vulnerable to short and closed-off faster than a speeding bullet.
Rebecca couldn’t decide if it was his natural personality or Grandpa’s doing. When Grandpa had asked her last night if Kurt was being friendly, she’d known exactly what the judge had meant. He wouldn’t approve of any romantic inclinations between the two of them, and it would be just like Grandpa to tell Kurt to stay away.
She adored her grandfather, but he could be overly protective—one of the things her father had in common with him. It wasn’t as if she was a teenager on summer break. She was a grown woman who’d been on her own for years. So it had to be the fact Kurt was in law enforcement that had prompted him to ask such a question. Unless Grandpa knew something she didn’t.
At any rate, she couldn’t say aloud exactly what she was thinking when Kurt had been standing three feet away. Her reference to Pride and Prejudice was meant to calm her grandfather down without raising Kurt’s suspicions about what they were discussing.
In the movie, and probably the book if she’d ever taken the time to read it, Mr. Darcy had said that Elizabeth was “tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” And while Kurt was as good-looking as a man could be, Rebecca wanted to convey to her grandfather that it wouldn’t be a problem to keep her attraction in check. Of course, the more time she spent with Kurt, the harder it was to say that truthfully.
Kurt glanced at her. “I didn’t mean to be short with you or imply you should stop talking. I guess I’m not used to people asking me questions.”
“It’s usually the other way around?”
He nodded. “Yes. Interviewing suspects and witnesses. You might want to look at the ceiling again. We’re going over the bridge, and you do not want to see their flimsy temporary fix of a guardrail.”
A lump formed in her throat. “Descriptions don’t help, either.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t help but shift her shoulder toward the console, as far from the window as possible. “Keep my mind busy. The classical music isn’t doing it.”
He cleared his throat. “Okay. I served my time in the army. Didn’t really know what I wanted to do when I got out, so went to college while working as a security guard. Criminal justice seemed like a good major, and I got recruited. I’ve been told by some of my colleagues that I had it easy. A lot of people, like Delaney, have being a marshal as their goal from the beginning of their career.”
The sound from the tires on the concrete changed their pitch. “We’re on solid ground,” he said.
Rebecca opened her eyes. It seemed there was a lot of things unsaid from the marshal’s story. She wanted to ask him all about his time in the military and in college, but those seemed like topics that only closer friends could ask. She settled on a less personal question. “Did you know you wanted to be in criminal justice before you enlisted?”
He grunted. He took a left turn on Presley Road. The trees on either side of the road petered out into farmland.
She’d pushed him too far. “We don’t have to talk anymore,” she said. The sunshine streamed through the windows. Being cooped up inside most of the day drove her crazy.
His shoulders relaxed. “No, it’s fine. I used to play baseball. My only plan during senior year was to get a scholarship.”
They passed farmhouses and the paved road turned into a dirt road. Up ahead was a hill filled with evergreens. “Are you sure you’re going the right way?”
“According to the map.” He pointed to a for-sale sign on the right as the incline steepened. “Anyway, the day before the first scout was due to arrive, I slid into home base wrong. Broke my ankle. Was out the rest of the season.” He nodded forward. “And that’s enough of the Kurt Brock Story Hour. I hope you’ve got sorted what questions you need to ask Mr. Garner because we’re here. I want us in and out of his place in five minutes. Stay put a moment. I need to canvass the area first.”
He pulled up in front of a gray house. It had a one-car garage, two windows and a metallic front door. The place couldn’t be more than one or two bedrooms at the most. Kurt stepped out of the vehicle with a hand on his holster. Assuming the accountant was scared enough to stay home from work, seeing Kurt might send him running for the trees.
If Mr. Garner owned the land, he knew how to invest his money. An accountant for a resort company might pick up real estate advice naturally. From the higher vantage point on the hill, she could see the lake, evergreens in every direction and wildflowers along various dirt paths. It was almost enough to entice her to settle down.
Kurt knocked on the car as he rounded the front. “We’re clear.” He opened the door for her and she stepped out. “I don’t know if Garner is here or not, but it’s time to find out.”
“If he’s not, I don’t know what my next step is.”
“You might need to let your boss know he should cut the Vista Resorts account loose. I’ve already been speaking to the marshals in Ohio in case we don’t find any more leads here.”
Her neck tensed. Something about that bothered her, and she couldn’t place a finger on exactly what. Maybe it was the mystery of never knowing who tried to kill her, and if they would move their sights to Grandpa once she was gone. Or, maybe it was the uncertainty of the accuracy of her audit report. It couldn’t be leaving Kurt. That was a ludicrous thought. She’d known the man for only a few days and, granted he’d saved her life, that didn’t mean she’d automatically swoon.
She inhaled the scent of pine and her shoe crunched on an errant cone as she made her way to the door. Kurt stepped in front of her, the cedar aftershave tickling her nose. They stopped at the metallic door. He stepped closest and turned his hip away from the door so he stood at a diagonal, his hand on the holster.
Rebecca raised her fist and rapped on the door. The latch gave way underneath her knock and the door swung open. Kurt pivoted so his torso moved in between her and the house as he pulled out his gun in one smooth motion. She stepped backward, prepared to run. His shoulders sank.
“Get in the truck.”
Just past his shoulders gave her an opening to see inside. Levi Garner’s head was slumped forward, his hands were bound to an office chair and blood soaked his shirt. “Is he…?” Her voice shook.
Kurt kept his gun drawn and stepped sideways in a protective stance. “Rebecca,” he whispered, “I need to get you in the truck. Someone might still be inside or watching.” His chin pointed at the SUV. “Use the closest door.”
Her pulse quickened as she finally understood. He stayed by her side until she jumped into the back seat. The moment the door closed, the locks latched. She watched him out of the darkened window as he lifted a phone to his ear. Probably calling for backup. She swiveled in her seat to hunt for any sign of the shooter. She squinted in an effort to see farther in the distance. They were only ten minutes from the heart of downtown but it still felt as if they were in the middle of nowhere. Even though the SUV was bulletproof, it didn’t calm her heart.
Kurt shoved his phone back in his pocket and entered the house, his gun raised. Leaving the door open, he reached over and touched Levi’s wrist. He let go and held the gun with both hands as he disappeared into the hallway of the house. No attempt to revive him or call for the paramedics. That could mean only one thing.
Levi had been murdered.
* * *
Kurt exhaled as he peeked around the corner. Clear. He kicked aside a chair next to the round table as he traveled past the combined kitchen and dining room. He repeated the process in the bathroom, the two bedrooms and the hall closet.
So far there’d been no sign of the shooter. Nothing remarkable to catch his attention. All the walls were beige and unadorned. A clean and cozy home that for some reason made him think Levi had been a lonely guy. He retraced his steps and it hit him. The place reminded him of his own rental. He hadn’t hung a single frame or painting.
Kurt refocused and made his way to the living room, a mere ten feet long and ten feet wide, and crammed with a futon, a bookshelf, a desk and TV. He barely had enough room to maneuver around the two suitcases that leaned up against the futon and almost bumped the dead man in the chair.
He stepped outdoors and heard the crunching of rocks in the distance. He’d asked the police vehicles to approach without sirens, but he couldn’t make any assumption. He positioned himself equidistant from the house and SUV.
Red and blue lights crested the hill and he exhaled. He crossed to where Rebecca waited and knocked on the back door. She emerged, her arms tightly wrapped around her torso. “Why?” she whispered. “Why did the shooter tie Levi’s wrists to the armrests if he was just going to shoot him anyway?”
Interrogation. It was the only reason that made sense to him. The shooter wanted to scare the accountant enough to get him talking. There was a possibility torture was involved, but without investigating the body, he couldn’t be certain. These were things he had no intention of sharing with Rebecca. “Maybe they wanted to know something without the fear Levi would attack,” he said instead.
“But if he gave them what he wanted, why shoot him?”
“We don’t know if he did.”
She put her hands on either side of her face and trembled.
Kurt put an arm around her and pulled her close before he truly knew what he was doing. “It’s…it’s going to be okay.” She pressed into him, her head fitting perfectly underneath his chin.
Two cruisers pulled up next to him, one from the local police department and another from the County Sheriff’s Office. When a murder happened in a small town, it was common to combine efforts. An officer approached. He pointed at Rebecca. “Do we need a bus?”
“They’re asking if you need an ambulance,” Kurt said.
Rebecca straightened, pulled her shoulders back and pushed the curls away from her eyes. “No. I’m fine.”
“The victim is inside,” Kurt told the officer. “We need a perimeter set up around the property in case the shooter is still on-site.”
“Yes, sir.” The cop strode over to speak with the others.
“I need to know if Levi was the man that gave me the flash drive.” Her voice shook but her eyes had turned steely and determined. “I need a second look to be sure.”
Kurt blew out a steady breath, his frustration building. “Follow me, but don’t touch anything.” He led her to the entryway but didn’t go any farther. They’d ask about the flash drive and leave. One officer was taking photographs, another dusting for fingerprints and another taking electronic notes.
The lead investigator pointed at Kurt. “I assume you want to consult on this?”
It was actually the last thing he wanted to do. The more he got involved, the greater chance reporters would get wind of a federal judge’s granddaughter being a target, but he needed to have all the facts at his disposal. “I’d like to be kept in the loop at the very least, but as I explained on the phone, she needs to stay out of the media.”
“Understood. I’ll have some questions for her, though.”
Rebecca averted her eyes from the deceased man’s form and stared at the ground. “I think this might have to do with his job at Vista Resort Properties. I think this man tried to act as a whistle-blower. I’m sure he snuck me a flash drive before he died. Is there any way I could look at his files?”
“You? No.” The detective would need to rule her out as a potential suspect, even if Rebecca would be the best consultant he could find for the case. Kurt understood that and didn’t argue.
“Deputy Brock will eventually get a look,” the detective added. “But not until we do first. Don’t get your hopes up, though. So far we don’t have anything to work with. There’s no phone, no computer and no flash drives. No papers, either.”
“Okay, you heard him. There’s no flash drive here. We can go.” Kurt turned to guide Rebecca away, but she shook her head.
“This has to be about the audit,” she whispered. “Think about it. They tried to kidnap me…maybe to find out what I know. Only I made it easy on them because the flash drive was plugged into the computer. They take it and, after seeing what’s on it, know they have to kill me. That’s why the threat escalated.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions without facts.”
“Because it makes sense. So, they tried to kill us by shoving us off the bridge. Then they find the whistle-blower that gave me the information in the first place. Levi must have known something fishy was going on at the company because he had this place for sale and, judging by the luggage, he was scared and getting ready to get out of town. The guy who tried to get me interrogated him to make sure he hasn’t told anyone else and then killed him and took all the evidence with him.”
“That’s some good out-of-the-box thinking, but we have no facts to support it.” He wouldn’t acknowledge that he had the same train of thought until he had some hard evidence. There was no room to assume it was the threat on Rebecca. It was possible the two incidents were completely unrelated.
“Look at the bookshelf.” Rebecca leaned over the threshold and held up a finger.
The investigator studied the shelves filled with cases of video games. “He’s a gamer.”
“Not just any games.” She waved her finger, pointing at the logo on each spine. “Look at the platform. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that has a cloud application on it.”
Kurt frowned. “How do you know that?”
She shrugged. “I’m a cool aunt, hip with the times. The point is that if Levi had any spreadsheets on his personal cloud—”
“He could still be signed in and we would see those files on the console,” the investigator finished for her. “Anything he saved to the cloud might shed the light on his killer.”
“Exactly.” She exhaled. “It would also point the way in figuring out the truth to this audit.”
The detective gestured over her shoulder, making it obvious the time had come to get out of the way of the crime scene team. Kurt’s stomach felt like lead; a sure sign that something was bothering him. He wasn’t sure why but knew it had to do with her hypothesis.
Yes, he liked her. And, moments ago, pulling her into his arms felt right, but he hadn’t forgotten that she’d be on a plane to Ohio as soon as it was deemed safe. If the threat turned out to be from the resort, he would need to hand over most of the control to the police. He could protect her a little longer if it was the judge’s desire, but their time together would be at an end. Why did that bother him so much?
An officer stepped outside holding a small card with her gloved hand. “You’re Rebecca Linn? The deceased had your business card.”
It was like a light switch in his head. If the killer thought he’d eliminated Rebecca, he’d know by now that he hadn’t succeeded. He hadn’t waited around to make sure they’d drowned or the police would’ve located the Hummer. Nothing had been in the news. So, if the killer had a connection to the resorts, the lack of notification to the Vista Resorts’ employees that the auditor had died would also be a clue. “We need to get you back to the judge’s house.”
Rebecca held a hand out toward the scene. “The detective said he would have questions for me later. And we can take a closer look once they’re done.”
There she went again with her use of the word we. If anyone was getting a closer look at the crime scene, it would be him. Not them. “Negative. They have my information and can contact me if they find something on the gaming console. My primary concern is your safety, and your auditing job is not dependent on staying at a murder scene. Let’s go.” He would call Delaney on the way back and have her track down a staff directory for Rebecca to peruse. Ideally they would have one with photographs, but if not, maybe a name would still be enough of a trigger.
She huffed and followed him back to the SUV. “But there might be something here to point us to the murderer.”
Yet again another reminder why he was more suited to fugitive tracking. He couldn’t force Rebecca to do anything she didn’t want to do, and she didn’t seem to respect his expertise in safety. “This isn’t time to live out a childhood fantasy, Rebecca.”
She jolted to a stop a foot from the SUV and raised an eyebrow. “When someone confides in you, it’s poor form to use it against them.”
He reared back. He had no intention of using anything against her. “I’ve never been one to share secrets, so I’m afraid I don’t know how to play your game. I know how to keep you safe, and you’re making it very difficult.”
Her cheeks flamed and she got into the passenger seat without further argument.
Kurt started the ignition and made a three-point turn to get around the other vehicles.
“It wasn’t a game.” The way she stressed the last word emphasized her displeasure. “It was conversation.”
He hated disappointing her, but he was also at his wit’s end. “Something I’m not supposed to be doing with you in the first place.”
“Why not?” She gasped. “I knew it. Grandpa told you not to talk to me, didn’t he?”
“I’m not sure why that would bother you, seeing as I’m merely tolerable. Not handsome enough to tempt you.” The words slipped out of his mouth and he wished he could yank them back and stuff them in his duffel bag, where they could never escape. He’d looked up the Mr. Darcy comment last night and while he had tried to brush it off as no big deal—because he shouldn’t even care—it’d been bubbling underneath the surface all day.
Her cheeks flamed. “You…you understood that reference?”
Maybe they should’ve stayed at the crime scene, after all. It might’ve been safer than the territory he was about to enter.