All night and into the next morning, Heath’s brain whirled with the information he’d gotten from Cassie. He didn’t want to believe she was involved in anything illicit, but she wouldn’t be the first good citizen who’d gotten caught up in the money generated by the illegal-drug industry. Yet he couldn’t just toss away the fact that she’d been there for him when he’d needed someone. Not once, but twice. And he liked her. A lot.
He also knew the danger of getting emotionally involved during an investigation, especially with his only lead. The job came first. Dad deserved that much from him, regardless of his interest in a pretty woman. There were plenty of pretty women. He had only one dad.
Ruminating his next move in the investigation, he drove the gleaming black Expedition up and down the streets of Whisper Falls, stopping now and then to talk or to investigate the out-of-ordinary. Folks were friendly and interested in the new vehicle and the new police officer. Good folks, mostly, though he knew from experience even the most peaceful towns harbored a dark element. He’d come to Whisper Falls in need of that peace and quiet and already he’d encountered the darkness.
He should have expected as much. Ferreting out darkness seemed to be his calling.
Removing Dad’s badge from his pocket, he placed it on the dash where he could see it. His father had taught him to seek the truth because the truth would set him free. Today he felt as if seeking the truth bound him tighter than any ropes or chains ever could.
Cassie was involved, one way or the other. The question was how did he find out which?
He stopped at the courthouse to meet with the chief. As he entered the side door, he greeted Verletta, the day-shift dispatcher who handed him the thick stack of today’s mail. At fifty-something, Verletta wore her blond hair to her shoulders and a pair of red plastic glasses perched on her nose. She knew the job and the town and everybody’s ancestry clear back to the war of aggression and thought nothing of calling up Heath or the chief, for that matter, with the message, “You’d better get on down there.” She made him smile but he always went because, for all her unorthodox methods and raspy-voiced commands, Verletta was rarely wrong. As usual, this morning she had a fountain Coke the size of a pitcher within easy reach—to keep the whistle clear, as she put it.
Mail tucked under his arm, Heath went on through to the chief’s office and found her rummaging through a file drawer as if she wanted to rip someone’s head off. He hoped it wasn’t his. He tossed the packet of mail on her desk and said, “You look annoyed.”
“I am annoyed. Been up since three this morning. Didn’t Verletta tell you? A couple of idiots busted into one of the senior units.”
Heath tensed. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“You’re still recovering. I handled it.”
“I’m recovered. Stop coddling me.” He fisted his hands on his hips, as annoyed as she looked. “Did you catch the perps?”
“Caught them, wanted to knock their heads, but turned them over to the parents. That’s why I’m mad. Those kids have been in trouble before and their parents always make excuses and bail them out.”
“A night in jail might scare some better behavior into them.”
“My thoughts, too, but being juveniles the law is lenient.”
“They won’t be juvies forever. The seniors all right?”
“Scared. Shaken. Mr. Abernathy had a heart spell which meant Dr. Ron had an early-morning call, too. He’ll be all right.” She barked her laugh. “Both of them.”
“Anything else I need to know about?”
“Check the log. Anytime there’s a break-in, the elders get spooked and we get calls.” She slammed the file cabinet. The sound ricocheted off the walls.
Heath had a feeling the chief was wishing she could slam some heads instead of metal drawers. He understood. He’d been there, but a good cop did his job and left the rest to the courts, as hard as that often was. “I’ll spend some extra time at the complex today. Park the truck, walk around, say hello.”
“Good plan. Knock on a few doors and introduce yourself. Make them feel safe again.” She tossed a manila folder onto her desk. “Could Cassie Blackwell shine any light on the Carmichael investigation?”
“How did you know I talked to Cassie?”
“Had coffee at the Iron Horse. Annalisa told Digger who told me that you and Cassie took a long, romantic walk.”
Small town grapevine. Heath snorted. “Any idea how long Darrell Chapman was in the area before he and Cassie hooked up?”
“Not really, but it bears checking. Don’t know when he came to visit his cousin, either, but he hadn’t been around long. If he was, he stayed in the woods. You’re thinking the deceased was involved?”
“Maybe. Probably. Either that or he showed up innocently and learned something that got him killed.”
The chief’s eyebrows went up. “His death was ruled an accident.”
“Yeah. In Mexico where it’s simpler and cleaner to say a tourist had an accident.”
“You’re the expert.” Heath could see the wheels turning in a very sharp, if somewhat eccentric mind. All cops were a different breed. Some were just more different than others. “What do you think happened down in Mexico?”
“I’m mulling a few theories.” And didn’t like any of them. “How long have you known Cassie?”
The roller chair clattered on the tile as Chief Farnsworth yanked it back from the desk to settle in. “She moved here with her brother, Austin, about six or seven years ago, as I recollect.”
“So, how well do you know her?”
The chief began to rifle through the mail, tossing unopened junk in the too-full trash can. Did she ever empty that thing?
“Her granddaddy owned the piece of property where the ranch is now. I knew him. Good people. I have a hard time believing James Blackwell’s granddaughter is involved with drug dealers, if that’s what you’re getting at. If her husband was running drugs, she may not have known.”
“Maybe. But we have a job to find out.”
“Suspicious sort, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much.” Came with the territory.
The chief paused from the wild sorting event to laser him with a long, intent look. “Word of caution, Monroe. Cassie is well-liked in this town. I wouldn’t let word get around that you think she’s involved in drug trafficking unless you have some very solid evidence. In the meantime, step lightly.”
“I plan to.” He believed in the scripture: “wise as serpents and gentle as doves.” At least the wise part. He was working on the gentle. “Why don’t you take a breather, get some rest. My leg’s good today. I can handle the rest of the shift while you catch up on sleep from last night.”
“Don’t put me out to pasture, Monroe. Between me and the handful of part-timers, I’ve been policing this town nearly as long as you’ve been alive.” She tossed him an envelope. “Take your paycheck and get busy earning the next one.”
Pulling to the curb outside the bank, Heath’s gaze drifted down the street to the Tress and Tan. A mature woman, snazzily dressed and carrying a bright yellow handbag, entered the building. He wondered if she was there to see Cassie.
Inside the bank, he handed over his first official paycheck for deposit into his brand-new account. While he waited for the receipt and some petty cash for his wallet, he leaned an elbow on the slick counter and scoped out the space. Did JoEtta have a blueprint of the bank on file in case of robbery? As the chief claimed, he was a suspicious sort, seeing crime before it happened.
Two other tellers were busy with customers, a farmer in overalls, a young mother with a toddler hanging on to her leg. A scattering of desks was inhabited by equally busy employees typing away on computers or rummaging through paperwork. Through the glass-enclosed offices, he located the bank officials, including Michelle Jessup. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than he’d intended. The blonde was elegant and high-end in a straight mustard-colored dress and black jacket with pearls at her throat, wrist and ears. She must have felt his stare because she glanced up. Immediately, she rose from her desk and came out to greet him.
“Why, Heath, what a nice start to the morning. How is that awful leg injury?” She was much lower key here in the bank than she’d been in the salon. More professional friendly than over-the-top flirtatious. He kind of liked the change.
“Healing. Thanks.” As soon as he said it, his ankle shot pain up to his knee just to spite him.
“What brings you in this morning? A loan for that gorgeous new SUV?”
“I have that covered already, but I appreciate the offer.” A man whose lifestyle was too busy to spend much money and who’d had an expense account for the rest could save a lot over the years.
“Well, shoot. I could have fixed you up.”
He imagined she could have. “Maybe next time.”
Michelle beamed at him with a bright, beautiful smile that probably cost more than he’d made in his first year of work. Someone had told him, Verletta he thought, that Michelle was the only child of the pharmacist and the only granddaughter of a well-to-do family. She was accustomed to money and attention.
“If you have a few minutes, come on in my office for coffee. We’ll talk. I want to be sure our bank is treating you well.” She winked. “Don’t want to lose you.”
The teller returned at the moment to count out his change. Turning slightly, not wanting to be rude to either woman, Heath stuck his hand out toward the teller.
“Can’t today. I’m on duty.”
Behind him, the teller counted out his cash. He only half listened because Michelle’s long-fingered hand touched his elbow. “Rain check?”
Why not? He was new in town. She was attractive and they were both available, although he had a feeling she might be more available than he was. Still, she was interested, and he had nothing to go home to but a big-screen television and his own thoughts. “A rain check sounds good.”
As he walked out into the overcast day, he sent another look toward the Tress and Tan, a reminder of the investigation he’d only begun. Michelle might be a pleasant distraction but Cassie needed to be his focus. He didn’t like having to play her, but an agent did what he had to do. If Cassie was involved in a trafficking scheme, the subterfuge would be worth the effort. He wondered what she was doing for lunch....
Cassie sat across the table from Heath, still questioning why she’d agreed to this last-minute lunch invitation. She wanted to be angry with him after last night. He’d accused Darrell, the sweetest man ever, of being a criminal. But that was impossible, and she wanted to make Heath understand as much. The length of time she’d known Darrell didn’t matter. He’d adored her. He had treated her like a queen, like a gorgeous woman instead of a buddy who gave free haircuts.
“What do you recommend?” Heath asked, tapping the menu with a knuckle. “I’ve never eaten here before.”
“Everything tastes good. Home cooked and fresh. I like the cheeseburger and cottage fries but I’m a junk food lover.”
“Kindred spirits, then. A cheeseburger sounds good.”
Kindred spirits? She didn’t think so, though she had to admit she’d liked him until last night. Today, he was cool as a cucumber mask, behaving as if he hadn’t insulted her late husband’s memory, as if they were the best of friends. Strange, confusing man.
“You’re quiet today.” He pushed the one sheet, plastic-covered menu to the end of the table.
“I don’t hear that very often.” She held his gaze, not smiling, laced fingers in a death grip. It was unusual for Cassie not to smile at everyone, but today Heath was a bug under inspection. Until he got off Darrell’s back, he was on her bad side. A people person, she didn’t often have one of those, but Heath Monroe had found it.
He must have read her tension because he leaned forward and placed a hand atop her clasped ones—and surprised the daylights out of her. They were less than a yard apart. Mere inches, really. Completely disconcerting.
Cassie could see a razor nick beneath Heath’s soul patch, a little swatch of whiskers beneath his bottom lip. Very faint lines had begun to form across his forehead and around his eyes. All together, they gave him a slight bad-boy look.
“Mad at me?”
“A little,” she admitted, though if she was really mad, she should move her hands from beneath his warm, strong grasp and stop staring at his mouth and eyes. She was mad. She really was. But she didn’t move.
“I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t want to. Forgive me?”
Well, since he put it that way. To withhold forgiveness was wrong. “If you won’t talk about Darrell anymore.”
Very green eyes—eyes as dark and mysterious as jade—rested on her face. Sitting this close to a man who held both her hands and her gaze with a burning intensity should have felt threatening, or at the least uncomfortable. Instead, her breath grew a little shorter and her toes tingled.
The waiter chose that opportune moment to return with their order. Flustered at being seen holding hands with the new assistant police chief, a man she didn’t want to like, Cassie jerked her hands away. Heath sat back against the red vinyl booth, a soft, quizzical expression on his face.
What in the world had just happened? Her neck was hot. Her pulsed raced as if an electric current ran from him straight into her heart. She sat back, too, and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh-food smells instead of Heath Monroe. Cassie Blackwell did not get flustered over a man. Ever. Time to get this lunch back on her terms.
“To friends,” she said, lifting her burger after the waiter had left.
He raised his sandwich in a toast. “Friends sounds good.”
Cassie bit into the juicy hamburger, mollified by his easy manner. Whatever had sparked in her had obviously not affected Heath. Which was good, right?
“How’s the ankle?”
“Practically healed. Only aches if I’m up too long. The doc cut me loose.” He took a sip of Coke, grabbed a fry. “So, fill me in on all the gossip. What do the experts at Tress and Tan say is going on in Whisper Falls that a peace officer should know about?”
“Jed Thompson and Marty Bates broke into the Abernathys’ apartment this morning. That’s the big news of the day. The little twerps.”
He titled his sandwich toward her. “Already know about that one.”
“Oh, I guess you would. I hope they get in big trouble for scaring Mr. Abernathy like that. Karen Littlejohn—she works at the Quick Stop on the corner by the senior complex—said Doctor Ron was called out and all the seniors were scared and upset.”
“They are. I spent some time with them this morning, did a walk-through of the yards, even went inside if they asked me. Met Creed Carter’s granny. Nice lady but I think she could hold her own against a burglar with that cane of hers.”
“Did she share her peanut candy?”
“How did you know?”
“That’s Granny Carter. She’ll make you some biscuits and gravy, too, if you hang around long enough.”
“Do I hear the voice of experience?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said as she finished chewing a bite and swallowed. “I’m sure the residents feel better for having you check things out. It was thoughtful of you.”
“Just doing my job.”
She didn’t care if it was his duty. Taking time to ease worries was a good thing to do and she liked him better for it. “Did you hear that Miss Evelyn and the city council set this Saturday as community spring cleaning?”
“Missed that. Tell me about it.”
So she did, and as she talked and ate, two things guaranteed to relax her, the tension left her shoulders. Never one to hold a grudge, Cassie enjoyed people too much to remain angry. She knew Darrell was not a criminal, and that was all that mattered.
“Can you do me a favor?”
Inside his apartment that evening, Heath flopped onto his couch, cell phone to his ear, talking to his brother in Houston.
“What now?” Holt asked in a wry voice. “You need money?”
Heath snorted. “Doesn’t everybody? You want to give me a million or two?”
“The check’s in the mail, like always.” Holt chuckled at the familiar joke. “What’s up?”
Heath propped one hand behind his head and pictured his younger brother. Taller than Heath at six-three, and rangy like a major-league pitcher, the dark-haired, dark-eyed Holt was a martial arts black belt who could take a man down faster than a bullet. Heath should know. He’d been the guinea pig too many times. Holt looked like everybody’s best friend, but beneath the amiable smile was one tough PI.
“Family first. How are Krissy and the kids?”
“Good. Ashley’s had a cold and is a grump.”
Heath’s heart squeezed. Ashley was his four-year-old niece. He’d walk on fire for that dimpled darling. For all of them if push came to shove.
“Give her a hug from Uncle Heath and tell her I love her. The boys, too.”
“Will do. Now what’s this favor you want?”
“I need you to take a trip to Mexico.”
“Mexico? Why do I have a feeling this isn’t a vacation?”
“You could make it one. Take Krissy and the kids.”
“Am I paying for this little getaway?”
“If it’s a vacation you are.”
“No vacation then. Spill. What’s in Mexico?”
“I’m not sure anything is but I’m working an investigation into possible drug trafficking out of there.”
Holt whistled softly. “Bad place for that, son. Bad place.”
“Don’t I know it?” He’d been up to his eyeballs in trouble in Mexico more than once.
“So here’s the deal. Whisper Falls had a tornado the night I came in.”
“I remember. Ran you off in a ditch. How’s the bum ankle?”
“Good.” He’d downplayed the accident for the sake of his mother, not wanting her to feel the need to fly to Arkansas. All Holt knew about was a sprained ankle. It wasn’t the first time he’d kept an injury to himself. “After the storm, someone reported damage in the rural areas. That’s when we stumbled onto a demolished trailer, paraphernalia and a missing home owner.”
“In Whisper Falls? The rural town you described as a quiet little place in the mountains where you could chill for a while?”
“It is. But you know me and drugs. We have this ongoing war. If they’re around, I find them.” Or maybe they found him. Either way, the battle raged.
“Still carrying Dad’s badge?”
“Always.”
There was a hum of quiet between the brothers that filled in the gaps. No words were needed. They both knew why Heath did what he did. Their father was the reason all of them were in law enforcement.
Finally, Holt broke the silence. “What’s the connection with Mexico?”
“The evidence reeks of Mexican cartel. Cocaine. Probably smuggled up from Colombia and repackaged for the U.S. Add to that the troubling issue of a man who lived or stayed briefly in that house. Name of Darrell Chapman. He and his new bride honeymooned in Mexico and he turns up dead on a pretty Mexican beach.”
Holt made a low noise in the back of his throat. “I’m starting to smell something.”
“Yeah, something stinks, all right. But other than the evidence found in the trailer, all of this is circumstantial. The man could have been an innocent bystander with no knowledge of his cousin’s side business. And he could have very well drowned as the death certificate claims.”
“Or the honeymoon could have been a setup, a meeting place, a drop-off or pickup. Then our Darrell boy could have made someone unhappy and gotten himself whacked.”
“That’s what I need to know. Will you check it out for me?” Heath thought of his lunch with Cassie and his conscience twinged a little but the job came first. For her sake he hoped Darrell was clean as Ozark spring water.
“Why not turn the case over to your pals at the DEA and let them handle it?”
“I can’t. Not yet. It’s personal.” His own words caught Heath by surprise.
Holt held on through a beat of awareness. “A woman?”
“Maybe,” he admitted as much to himself as to his brother. If Darrell was dirty he wanted justice done, but he didn’t want Cassie hurt in the process. He wasn’t sure why she was any more important than any other case he’d been involved with, but she was.
“Don’t tell me it’s the widow.”
“All right, I won’t. Got a pencil? I’ll give you the details.”
“Who said I was going?”
Heath just laughed.