Brody tightened his grip on the phone in disbelief. When he’d told the dispatcher he was heading to Clark’s house to keep an eye on things, he hadn’t expected someone would actually torch the place.
Obviously one of his deputies listened to the police scanner and betrayed him.
But who? And why? He couldn’t imagine anyone, other than Nate and Royce of course, hating him this much.
“What happened,” he asked hoarsely. “Do you have any idea how it started?”
“Neighbors heard a loud boom and then saw flames. We won’t know anything more about what happened until the firefighters have extinguished the blaze.”
“Sandra, I don’t want you to say a word about talking to me, understand? I want you to tell anyone who asks that I haven’t checked in yet, and that I’m not answering my cell phone.”
“But Sheriff...”
“That’s an order,” he interrupted sharply. “Do not talk to anyone.”
“Yeah, sure. Okay.” Sandra sounded hurt by his tone, but he didn’t care. He quickly disconnected the line, stared at the device in his hand, and promptly dropped it on the ground and smashed it with the heel of his boot. Then he picked up the pieces and tossed them into the trash.
The thought of anyone being able to track him, and by proximity, Julianne, made him sick to his stomach.
“Brody, I’m so sorry,” Julianne said in a hushed tone.
He sighed and scrubbed the bristle along his jaw. “I should have thought of another way to prove there’s an inside leak. But I never expected—” He paused, battling a wave of anger intermixed with guilt. “I’m not sure how to tell Clark his home has been destroyed.”
She grasped his arm. “This isn’t your fault. Whoever is working with Nate caused the damage, not you.”
He shook off her hand and moved away, needing distance. Julianne was wrong, the blame for everything rested squarely on his shoulders. Starting all the way back to the night Lilly had disappeared, when he’d allowed Nate to convince him that she’d run away.
If he’d listened to Julianne all those years ago, none of this would have happened.
“You’re doing it again,” she said, her tone full of sadness. “I can tell you’re questioning God’s plan.”
He ground his teeth together so hard he was surprised the enamel didn’t shatter beneath the pressure. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t take any responsibility for my actions? I don’t think that’s what God had in mind.”
“Of course not,” was her swift response. “But what did you do, other than tell a white lie about where you were planning to spend the night? How does that make you responsible for the actions of two men desperate to kill us?”
She made it sound so easy, so simple, when it was anything but.
“Something wrong?” Clark Davenport asked, looking rumpled and fatigued in the doorway connecting their rooms. Obviously their raised voices had woken him up.
Brody braced himself as he faced the young man who’d already been through so much: his sister Renee’s abuse at the hands of Nate Otwell, being kidnapped and left for dead, and now losing his home.
“Yes, Clark, I’m afraid so.” Julianne crossed over to the young man. “You might want to sit down. We have some bad news...”
“Renee?” Clark asked harshly, stumbling as he headed toward a chair. “Is my sister all right?”
Brody came over to sit beside him. “Renee’s fine, at least as far as I know. But I need to tell you that someone torched your house.”
“My house?” Clark’s eyes widened with horror, his gaze bouncing between Brody and Julianne. “Torched it? You mean it’s on fire?”
“Yes.” Julianne rubbed his arm, as if she could make the horror disappear. “I’m sorry, Clark. So terribly sorry to add this onto everything else you’ve been through.”
“My dog, Banjo. You’re sure Dr. Grover has him? He—wasn’t in the house when the fire started, was he?”
Brody glanced at Julianne, realizing he’d never followed up with Dr. Grover to make sure his deputy had in fact dropped off Clark’s dog. “We’ll call her right now,” he offered, then realized he’d destroyed his phone.
Julianne pulled out hers, unlocked the screen and handed it over. “She’s in my contact list.”
Brody listened to the ringing on the other end of the line, expecting the call to go to voice mail when a woman’s sleepy voice answered. “This is Dr. Grover.”
“Doc, it’s Sheriff Brody Kenner. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I have Clark Davenport here and he’s worried about Banjo.”
“You found Clark?” The fatigue in Dr. Grover’s voice instantly vanished. “He’s alive?”
“Yes, he’s alive and doing all right. Do you want to talk to him?”
“Please.”
Brody handed Clark Julianne’s phone.
“Vanessa? I’m sorry about the mess at the clinic,” Clark said in a low, tortured voice. “I didn’t want to give them the drugs, but they held me at gunpoint...”
“Shh, it’s all right. Don’t worry, I don’t care about that. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Brody was close enough he could just barely hear Dr. Grover’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Do you have Banjo?” Clark asked.
“Yes, Clark, I’ve been taking care of Banjo, but he’s been missing you something fierce. I know he’ll be glad to see you.”
Clark’s expression brightened with the news. “I’m so glad he’s safe with you. Thanks for watching him for me.”
“You’d do the same for me, Clark,” Dr. Grover said. “Just let me know when you’re ready to come to pick him up, and to return to work.”
“I will. Thanks.” Clark handed the phone back to Brody. “Banjo is fine. Everything else in the house can be replaced.”
Brody nodded, humbled by Clark’s attitude. “Thanks, Doc, go back to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
“Thanks for letting me know that you found Clark,” she replied.
“Doc?” Brody asked before she could end the call. “Do me a favor, okay? Don’t mention that you’ve heard Clark has been rescued or that you’ve spoken to me.”
“Why?” she asked.
He hesitated, not sure how much to tell her. “Please trust me on this. We’re still actively investigating the break-in at your clinic, along with several other crimes. I really need you to keep silent about this.”
“All right,” Dr. Grover agreed. “I haven’t had time to talk to anyone about the incident anyway. A few patients asked about Clark, as I’ve been short-handed, but I claimed he’d taken a few days off.”
“Hopefully this will all be over soon and things will get back to normal,” he told her. “Thanks again, Doc.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you catch these men soon, Sheriff.”
“Me, too.” He ended the call and returned the phone to Julianne.
There was an awkward silence until Clark rose to his feet. “Goodnight, Sheriff. Agent Martinez.”
“Goodnight, Clark.” Julianne’s soft voice followed Clark into their adjoining room.
Brody moved to follow Clark when Julianne stopped him by grasping his hand. “Shouldn’t we try to figure out which one of your deputies is behind this?” she asked.
Her gaze begged him to stay, but he couldn’t. The memory of their heated kiss was distracting enough.
“We need to get some sleep,” he said, avoiding her gaze and feeling like a louse. “We’ll regroup in the morning.”
“Brody...” Her fingers tightened around his, and he steeled his heart lest he be tempted to kiss her again.
“Goodnight, Julianne.” He gently squeezed her hand, then let her go.
This time, she didn’t try to stop him as he disappeared into the room he was sharing with Clark. He left the door ajar in case she needed something, then stretched out on the bed fully dressed.
Sleep eluded him, not because of Clark’s snoring, but because he couldn’t stop his mind from racing from one deputy to the next in a vain attempt to figure out which one of his men had betrayed him.
* * *
Julianne allowed Thunder to jump up on the bed beside her. She looped her arm around his neck and stroked her hand over his soft coat.
She doubted she’d be able to sleep, her senses keenly attuned to their surroundings. The way Brody had trashed his phone had stunned her, but now, looking back, she didn’t think they’d been traced by the device.
If that was truly the case, the dirty cop would have known they were here at the Sunflower Motel, rather than at Clark’s place. Their trap had included notifying the dispatcher of their plans, which in turn had resulted in the fire bomb, or whatever device had been used to torch Clark’s place.
She wondered where Otwell and Royce were right now. Was Brody’s theory right that they were looking for a secret stash of cash in order to disappear for good? And if so, where?
Sleep finally claimed her, and when Thunder shifted beside her, she woke up, blinking in the darkness. Thunder’s head was up, but he didn’t growl or indicate anything was wrong.
After rolling out of bed she noticed a faint glow of light coming from Brody and Clark’s room. She made a quick stop in the bathroom, then padded over to see what Brody was doing.
She wasn’t surprised to find him sitting on the floor near the bathroom door which had been cracked open to provide him a bit of light with which to work. He glanced up at her, then returned to his notes.
“Can’t sleep?” she whispered.
He shook his head. When she stayed where she was, he set the papers aside and came over to meet her. She stepped into her room, and closed the door so they wouldn’t disturb Clark.
Catching a glimpse of his notes, she realized he’d listed several names. His deputies? Probably.
“You need to try and get some rest,” she chided, dropping down on the edge of the mattress. “We can continue the investigation tomorrow.”
Brody shook his head, taking a seat on the chair located across from her. “I feel like we’re running out of time, Julianne. The fire at Clark’s house may be their last attempt to get to us.”
“Why stop now?” she asked dryly.
Brody met her gaze head-on. “Because they have reason to believe we were there and that the coast is clear.”
She frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“It occurred to me that part of the reason they want us out of the way is because they’re worried that I might find where they’ve hidden the money.”
A chill crept down her spine. Brody had spent a long time investigating Otwell’s illegal activities. Had these attempts on their lives been nothing more than a diversion with a side of revenge thrown in?
“Do you have places in mind?” she asked, craning her neck to peer at the notes.
“Too many,” he said on a heavy sigh. He flipped a few pages, and she realized he must have been working the entire time she’d been asleep. “I keep going back to that cabin on the river, the one where we found a bit of orange string stuck to a thorny branch. Otwell may have gone there, only to be scared off by the other men Frank had noticed.”
“It’s possible,” she agreed. “But we checked out the cabin, there wasn’t anything inside.”
“We used Thunder to search for scents,” Brody corrected. “Your missing FBI agent, then Nate’s. We didn’t search for a hiding spot where they may have stashed some money. And once we found the body, there was too much activity out there for Otwell and Royce to risk going back.”
“That’s true.” Adrenaline hummed through her veins. “We need to head back over there at first light.”
“That’s just one of the places we need to search,” Brody said. “I also think I need to check out the place I arrested Nate.”
She didn’t necessarily agree. “But if that’s the location, there was no reason for them not to head over there to get the money,” she argued. “I think we should check out the cabin where we found the dead body, first.”
“Yeah, okay. You’re probably right.” He shifted through the papers again and handed her the list of names. “You asked me earlier who I thought might be involved. These were the four names I came up with.”
“Deputy Dan Hanson, Deputy Rick Meyer, Deputy Aaron Green and Deputy Josh Jenkins?” She looked up at him in surprise. “I only know the first two names, and while I think Deputy Hanson is a chauvinistic jerk, I can’t believe either he or Rick would stoop so low as to sell you out to Otwell.”
“I didn’t think so, either,” Brody grimly admitted. “But those are the four officers who arrived at the scene of the jailbreak. The four officers who saw you working with me. I’ve been going over and over the sequence of events in my mind, and while every one of my deputies has access to a police scanner and can listen in to what’s going on, only those four know what you and Thunder look like.”
The chill along her spine coalesced to ice. “Okay, let’s just say one of these guys might be involved. Do you have any way of narrowing it down further?”
Brody scrubbed his hands over his face, grooves etched in his face displaying the depth of his exhaustion. “That’s what’s been keeping me up,” he finally said. “Dan Hanson has the most experience of any deputy on the force. He’s been a cop for almost twenty years. I can’t imagine why he’d throw it all away, unless he just can’t stand the thought of working for someone younger and less experienced. He wasn’t happy when I won the election to become sheriff and I suspect he plans to run against me next year.”
She ached to reach out to him, to slip her arms around his waist and to bury her face against his chest, offering comfort. For Brody’s sake, and maybe for her own, too. “It’s probably not as personal as that,” she said, striving to stay focused. “Doesn’t all criminal behavior basically come down to power and greed? Do any of these—” she gestured at the list of names “—have any outstanding debt? Any reason to look for a source of easy cash?”
“I wish I knew,” he admitted roughly. “I can run a check on their financials but that may not tell the entire story. Someone like Deputy Hanson could very well be tired of watching criminals getting away with making big bucks, while we chase our tails in an effort to put them behind bars.”
She couldn’t deny Brody had a point. More than one cop had turned to a life of crime for that exact same reason. The attitude of if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
Not that she understood the sentiment, because the very thought of going from keeping the public safe and putting the bad guys behind bars, to throwing in with them was absolutely reprehensible.
She looked up at Brody. His head was tipped back, resting against the wall, and his eyes were closed. She smiled ruefully. He didn’t look comfortable, but she was loath to disturb him.
He desperately needed sleep. The neon blue digits on the small alarm clock read 2:30 a.m. Dawn would be here soon enough.
Gently taking the notes from his hands, she set them aside then returned to stretch out beside Thunder. This time, maybe because Brody was nearby, she didn’t have any trouble drifting off.
The shrill ringing of her phone caused her to bolt upright, looking around in alarm. Brody was rubbing the back of his neck, blinking sleepily.
She reached over to pick up her phone from the bedside table where she’d left it charging. Max’s number flashed on the screen.
“What’s up?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“Where are you?” her captain demanded.
“Huh?” She tried to gather her scattered brain cells. Light poked around from the heavy drape over the window and she was surprised to see the small alarm clock read 7:00 a.m. She and Brody had slept much longer than she’d expected. “A place called the Sunflower Motel. Why? What’s going on?”
“The sheriff’s department dispatcher claims Kenner isn’t answering his phone.”
“Yeah, I can explain...” she started, but Max quickly interrupted.
“You can fill me in later. There’s a possible lead on Nate. A woman living on the river claims she saw two men paddling along the river, one of them wearing an orange prison jumpsuit.”
Julianne glanced over at Brody. “They could be heading back to the cabin where we found the dead body.”
“Why would they go back there?” Max asked in confusion.
“We suspect they have money stashed nearby. And the reason we’ve gone off grid is because we have reason to believe that one of the deputies has been leaking information to Otwell and Royce.”
Max whistled. “That explains a lot.”
“I know, right? Okay, where should we meet you?” she asked, joining Brody near the doorway.
“On the road outside the cabin. Maybe Thunder can help track Nate’s scent.”
“We’re on our way,” Julianne promised. She disconnected the call and gave Thunder the hand signal to come.
This was it. The best lead they had regarding the whereabouts of Otwell and Royce.
Only this time, she and Brody were not about to let the perps slip away.