Dr. Taya McGill-Stryker’s announcement worked to drain the color from Fredrick Nolan’s face. Like a week-old helium balloon, the man shriveled before Justine. She stifled a yawn, the aftermath of a busy evening and talking late into the night with Taya. There’d been no time to return to the ranch, so Justine had bunked in Taya’s hotel room while Trey had lodged with a friend. They’d met with the lab after confirming the smear on Magnum’s vest was indeed blood. And the day was flying by.
“Are you absolutely certain?” Fredrick’s voice cracked with age and shock, dragging Justine to the present.
Susan Nolan’s eyes widened, and her cheeks reddened. “You’re making that up. Trying to justify the intrusion and desecration of Kayla’s grave site.”
“I assure you that is not the goal. I am an independent forensic anthropologist brought in to perform the evaluation without bias. My findings are documented and absolute. You may view the report for yourself,” Taya said.
“Oh, believe me, we will,” Susan bit out.
“Where? How?” Fredrick flattened his hands on the table, as if holding on for dear life.
“I discovered a fragmented tip of a needle embedded in Kayla’s spine,” Taya explained for the second time.
“But that doesn’t prove anything,” Susan argued.
“Actually, the location confirms Kayla did not voluntarily overdose. I found traces of the narcotics in her spine, as well. The trajectory makes it physically impossible for Kayla to have injected herself. I’m marking her file as a murder,” Taya said.
Fredrick’s shoulders slumped, and he covered his face. “My beautiful Kayla. What have we done?”
The strange comment grabbed Justine’s attention, and based on the expressions of the others present at the interrogation table, she wasn’t the only one.
The shift in Fredrick’s pain touched Justine. “Mr. Nolan, with this information, I believe it’s a reasonable assumption someone staged your daughter’s murder to look like an overdose. But who wanted her dead? Is there anything you remember that might help us?”
“This is ridiculous,” Susan argued. “Nothing has changed, from our point of view. Kayla’s death was a tragedy, but after all this time, what difference will changing the cause of it make?”
Justine gaped at the woman. “For one, we need to get a murderer off the streets.”
“Unless you’ve found evidence, how will that happen?” Susan shot back.
Fredrick rejoined the conversation, tears pooling in his eyes. “Kayla wasn’t using drugs?”
Taya shook her head. “I wish I could answer that to your satisfaction, but there’s not enough evidence one way or the other.”
“She wasn’t,” Justine defended her friend.
“I wanted to protect her.” Fredrick folded his hands on the table. “It was my doing. I asked Pete Lucas to steal Kayla’s body.”
“Fredrick!” Susan said. “Don’t say another word.”
“It’s time we told them.” He addressed Justine. “After talking with you, Susan and I had a long discussion and she convinced me Kayla’s reputation would be dragged through the mud along with ours. The media outlets were relentless the first time. I wanted to protect my family.”
Susan’s hand flew to her neck, where a large solitaire diamond hung from a thick rope chain. “You’re blaming me?”
“No, I’m stating the facts.” He sat back.
“Mr. Nolan, do you realize what you’re saying?” Trey intervened.
Fredrick nodded.
“You’ll be charged with tampering with the body,” Trey added.
“I understand and accept full responsibility. Whatever you need from me, I promise my cooperation.”
“I’ll try to keep your charges to a minimum,” Trey promised.
“Thank you.”
“Mr. Nolan, I found something in Kayla’s diary and wondered if you’d be willing to help me,” Justine inquired.
“Yes, of course.”
“Does the name Underwood Machler mean anything to you?” Justine asked.
He started to shake his head. “No, I—”
Susan jumped to her feet. “This is preposterous! My husband is obviously not feeling well and speaking from grief. Which you are taking advantage of. We’re leaving. If you need something, contact Alex Duncan.”
Trey stood. “We’d love to. The BOLO issued for him is still active. Any idea where he is?”
Susan’s lips narrowed into a thin line. She gripped Fredrick’s arm and hauled him up, then dragged him from the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Wow,” Taya said, facing Justine.
“Thank you again for everything.”
“I’m grateful I could help. Kayla deserves justice. I’ll be praying for you both. I’ll finish my investigation notes and get my finding to Sergeant Oliver today before I leave.” Taya gathered her files, and after a hug with Justine and a handshake with Trey, she exited the room.
“Is it me or did Susan seem to go off the deep end at the mention of Underwood Machler?” Justine asked.
“Um, yeah. Not sure if it was the name or the fact her husband confessed to stealing the body,” Trey said.
Justine’s phone rang. A glance at the screen sent her stomach into knots. Everything within her wanted to ignore the call, but experience had long ago taught her Victoria wouldn’t give up. “Hello.”
“Justine. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry for how I behaved yesterday.” Victoria’s words dripped with sweetness.
Typical. Attack. Apologize. Repeat. Justine sucked in a breath. “You’re grieving.”
“I am, darling, but that’s no excuse. Forgive me. After you’d gone, it hit me I’m all alone. And I can’t bear that.” Based on the sniffles and hiccups, Victoria was crying.
How many times had Justine heard her mother speak those words as justification after Ignaseus’s angry beatings? Yet a trickle of hope from her traitorous heart clung to one word. Family. Hadn’t Trey told her it was time to forgive her parents? Was this the step in doing that? “I forgive you.”
Victoria sniffled. “Thank you. Honey, I’ll be returning to North Platte—that’s where I live.”
Justine refrained from saying “I know.” Though they hadn’t spoken, she’d kept tabs on her parents. “I’m glad you called before you left.”
“Thing is, I had to talk with you today.”
Justine braced herself. Of course Victoria would call with ulterior motives.
“I did my best to be a good wife and mother. Even after that nasty Mrs. Scranton stole you away from me.”
Justine gripped the table with her free hand. Her mother always put down Mrs. Scranton, but the woman had saved Justine’s life. Figuratively and literally.
Victoria continued, “We all made sacrifices, and as much as your desertion devastated your father and I, I forgive you too.”
Warning signs blared. Victoria was warming up for the kill.
“You’re successful and can afford the funeral-service bill. I have nothing. Not even enough to bury the love of my life. The ceremony was beautiful. It’s too bad you weren’t able to stay.”
Justine bit her lip to stop the retort dying to escape, and redirected the conversation. “I wish I’d known sooner.”
Victoria sighed. “I’m sorry. But I need a little help to get me by. You see, I lost my job when your father fell ill, but I had to be by his side.”
Always Ignaseus’s defender, no matter the cost. “How much do you need?” Justine cut to the chase.
“I hate to ask, but ten thousand would be great.”
Justine gasped. “I don’t have that kind of money. I’ve recently endured some—” she considered what to tell her mother and opted for limited information “—damage to my house. I could probably swing a few hundred.”
“That’s just like you. So selfish. Take care of number one! Forget it, Justine. Stay out of my life.” Victoria hung up.
Justine stared at the phone, disbelieving.
“I’m scared to ask,” Trey said.
The comfort of her clinician persona provided a shield, and Justine slotted Victoria into the role of patient. “Apparently the amount I offered wasn’t good enough. I won’t hear from her again.” She glanced down at her hands. What must Trey Jackson, with the perfect family, think of her pathetic one’s brokenness?
“I’m proud of you.”
Her head jerked up. “What? You are?” Justine sighed. “I could take out a loan or something.”
“Absolutely not.”
She looked at him.
“Sorry, that’s not my place, but, Justine, going into debt isn’t the way to help her. Setting boundaries is healthy for both of you.”
Logically, he was correct. Her training agreed. But guilt weighed on her heart. “What kind of daughter refuses her mother?”
“Had you heard from Victoria before today?”
“Not since I moved in with Mrs. Scranton my sophomore year of high school.”
“Not once?”
“No.”
Trey put an arm around her shoulder. “You did the right thing.”
“Is it stupid that a part of me wants to give her the money, just to be accepted again?” She hated herself for admitting the embarrassing truth.
Trey took her hand. “Every child longs for their parent’s approval.”
“I want to be worth something to someone.” The confession slipped out before she could stop it, and she longed to retrieve it.
Trey dropped to a squat beside her. “Your value isn’t based on your mother’s inaccurate view of love.”
She rose, creating distance between them. “You don’t understand. Your family is perfect, and you’ll have one of your own someday. I’ll always be broken, trying to be normal and never measuring up.”
Trey laughed and stood.
Justine startled. “Nice. Laugh at me when I’m vulnerable.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. My family is far from perfect. There’s just more of us to carry the chaos evenly.”
She grinned. “Whatever.”
“Seriously. We’ve got our own sets of problems and battles. If not for God’s grace and a lot of prayer between us, we would’ve fallen apart many times.” He sobered. “You make your own future. No matter what’s happened, your parents’ dysfunction is not a direct reflection on you. Anyone who knows you has seen you’re brilliant, beautiful, compassionate, beautiful—”
“You already said beautiful.”
“It’s worth repeating.” That delicious dimple of his reappeared. “We’re all responsible for ourselves, accountable for our own actions. You’ve proved you’re an amazing woman.”
Justine averted her eyes, cheeks warm. But if Trey meant all those things, why had he adamantly denied they were involved when Sergeant Oliver called?
“Say it.”
“What?”
“I smell smoke,” he teased.
Justine grinned. “I don’t mean to dispute your kind words, but if you think that, why did you tell Sergeant Oliver we weren’t involved? Not that we are, but your emphatic rejection seemed over-the-top.”
Trey’s brows met in a triangle. “I apologize if I came off that way. I was so angry at the Nolans and thought about Susan’s warning to you. I wanted to make sure they didn’t have any ammunition to destroy our reputations and careers. If I were responsible for that kind of devastation, it’d kill me. I care for you. Too much.”
He cared. For her. What did that mean? It didn’t matter. They’d agreed romance wasn’t a possibility. He was a nice guy. “Thank you. That makes me feel better.” Changing topics, Justine pushed in the chairs. “We should get out of here. Poor Magnum needs an outdoor break.” She gestured to where the dog lay dozing in the corner.
“Yeah, he looks pretty eager to move.” Trey chuckled. “While we’re clearing the air, I have to tell you something.”
Justine’s heart thudded against her ribs. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry for not calling out Victoria at the funeral. Maybe that would’ve prevented her money attempt.”
“Ever the optimist? Rest assured you handled the situation well. Victoria’s a drama queen. She would’ve raised the roof worse than she did if you’d have stepped in.”
Trey shrugged and perched on the end of the table. Clearly, he wasn’t leaving the room anytime soon. Justine leaned against the wall.
“Failing to protect people I care about is the one thing I excel at. Always has been.”
“What do you mean?”
Trey sighed. “Forget about it. I’m whining.”
“I blurted my ugly history and confessions. Your turn. Whine away.” Justine smiled.
He grinned. “I guess that’s a fair trade.” He slid onto a chair, and she did the same, keeping the table between them. “I love my job. Serving the public and working with Magnum is a dream come true for me. But I’m always chasing this ghost from my past.”
“Does this ghost have a name?”
“There was a kid, Josh, a senior when I was a sophomore. He was fun, the class clown, football star, but he had major drinking issues. He was nice, and I was thrilled an upperclassman paid attention to me.”
“Wasn’t Slade already including you in his group?”
Trey shrugged. “It’s different. I hated being in Slade’s shadow. Josh treated me as an equal, not like Slade’s little brother. Ya know?”
She nodded, and he continued, “We were at a graduation party. Josh was there, being his usual corny self, but he disappeared for a while, so I searched for him. Found Josh by the pool, downing a large amount of alcohol. He was drunk, staggering around, and he headed for his pickup. I offered to drive him home. Josh was three times my size. I know it’s hard to believe, looking at my athletic physique now, but I was really scrawny.” Trey puffed out his chest like a rooster.
Justine laughed.
“Hey, it’s not that funny.”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“Anyway, I tried to stop him. Took his keys and ran away. Not smart. Mr. Football Star tackled me. He lifted me by the shirt, threw a solid uppercut and tossed me into the pool.”
The smile fell from Justine’s face. “No.”
“Yep, it was humiliating. Everyone laughed, and I slunk away to lick my wounds. Josh died that night in a drunk-driving accident.”
Justine’s hands flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shook me up for a while. Kept thinking I should’ve done something more to stop him. The same way I felt after Victoria unleashed on you at the funeral.”
“Trey, you were a kid.”
“That’s no excuse. I should’ve called the cops or flattened his tires.”
“Is that why you joined the patrol?”
“Yep. I wanted to protect people. But we see how well that’s turning out.”
Justine rounded the table and perched on the edge beside Trey. “No one controls another’s destiny. You did what you could with what you had.”
Trey didn’t look up.
“Do you remember Nathan Yancy?”
That got his attention. “The kid who drove Will to your place.”
“Yes. Can you imagine tagging him with the guilt of a classmate’s death?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
“But it’s not just Josh. Kayla too. I should’ve done more. I spend so much of my life with should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. So what? I’m not helping anyone.”
“You make a difference daily. I’ve never been in more danger than I have in the past few days, and you’re always there. I’m grateful for your presence. But I understand reliving the pain of the past. I’ll give you the advice I remind myself of. ‘Absolve yourself for that night and receive God’s forgiveness for any shortcomings you’re clinging to. Because He’s not holding them against you.’”
Trey smiled. “You’re smart.”
“I know, right? I have student loans to prove I paid to learn all that smartness.” She grinned.
“Now, if only we’d get the results from the blood from Magnum’s vest.”
At the mention of his name, Magnum stretched and opened one eye.
A single knock preceded a trooper peering around the door. “This just came in.” He handed the paper to Trey and disappeared.
Justine moved beside him. “Well?”
“It’s the results of the blood test.”
“And?”
“No known match.”
* * *
Trey leaned back and closed his eyes, frustration oozing through his veins. They’d spent hours reviewing the case evidence with no leads. He glanced again at the lab test. “How’s it possible to have blood—DNA proof—from the perp who set that IED and still have nothing?”
“All we need is a comparison sample.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Trying to stay optimistic,” Justine said. “And we have the key.” She smoothed the diary on the table and flipped to the back cover. “That wasn’t visible before.”
Trey leaned over, spotting a sticker depicting a stylized blue jay.
Justine’s eyes widened.
“I smell smoke.”
She jumped to her feet and glanced at her watch. “We have to hurry before they close.”
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.” Justine shoved the case files into the box and hurried out of the room.
Trey leashed Magnum. “Sorry, buddy, the boss lady says we’ve got a lead.”
His partner lazily opened an eye, peering from beneath his eyebrows, then slowly pushed to a sitting position. Guilt coursed through him. Magnum should stay behind at the patrol office. “Hey, Mags, sit this one out.”
Magnum stood and gave a thorough shake from head to tail in an emphatic disapproval of the offer.
Trey grinned. Or not.
Justine was already down the hall by the time he and Magnum caught up with her.
“I love a good mystery, but since I’m driving, think you could clue me in to the details on this one?” he teased, loading Magnum into his kenneled area.
“Hurry!” Justine slid onto the passenger seat and closed the door.
Trey rushed to get behind the wheel.
A huge smile played on Justine’s face and her hazel eyes sparkled. “Pierce.”
Trey blinked and started the engine. “I’m going to need a little more information.”
“The town of Pierce.”
“Because—”
“If my suppositions are correct, we need to open a safe-deposit box from the First Bank of Pierce.”
“And...” Trey headed toward the highway.
“Kayla left the diary for me to find. I’m positive now.”
“Why?”
“Why else put the Pierce Bluejays emblem inside the diary? She knew I grew up there, and I’d pick up on the clue.”
“But why not tell you what was happening?”
“Kayla might’ve been gathering information, and I was her fail-safe. Or, fearing someone was after her, she might’ve protected me.”
That made sense. On the drive, they pondered the possibilities of what the safe-deposit box might hold. Trey pulled into the First Bank of Pierce parking lot at ten minutes before six o’clock. “Go on ahead of me. I’ll get Magnum and meet you.”
“Okay.” Justine bolted from the truck and through the bank’s glass doors.
By the time Trey and Magnum entered the building, Justine was talking with a customer service representative. A nameplate on the round marble desk read Rachel. She appeared apprehensive and Trey overheard her say, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I cannot give you access to someone else’s account.”
“But it’s a murder investigation,” Justine insisted.
Rachel looked at Trey, sizing him up. “You’re the trooper working with Miss Stark?”
His uniform pretty much answered that question, but he nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for our late intrusion, but we really need to get into the safe-deposit box. We believe there’s information directly applicable to this case.”
Rachel frowned. “I’m not supposed to open it for anyone but the party, unless she listed someone else.”
Justine leaned over the counter, nearly touching noses with Rachel. “Could you check the file?” Impatience in her tone evident.
The bank employee sighed and typed something into the computer. “What did you say your name was?”
“Justine Stark.”
“May I see identification?”
Justine rummaged in her purse, then produced her wallet and driver’s license. Rachel inspected the IDs, taking longer than necessary before handing them back to Justine. “You’re listed on the account. I remember this one. So strange. Kayla Nolan paid for the box with a note to release it to you when you came.”
Justine turned to Trey, the confusion on her face no doubt mirroring his own surprise.
“Let me get the keys.” Rachel stepped away from the desk, returning a few seconds later with a ring of them in hand. “Please follow me.”
They fell into step behind the woman, walking to a back room. Black safe-deposit boxes lined the walls on all sides and a large table in the center provided a place to view the contents. Trey and Magnum moved aside as Rachel inserted a key. Justine then inserted the key from the diary.
He held his breath. Would this solve Kayla’s murder?
Rachel pulled the box free from the vault and placed it on the table. “I apologize for rushing you, but we will be closing in ten minutes. I’ll give you some privacy.” She exited, shut the door softly behind her.
Trey stepped closer.
Justine opened the box, revealing a stack of folded papers, which she flattened on the table. “They’re statements from an offshore account in the Bahamas.” She pointed a finger at the name. “Underwood Machler is listed as the owner.”
Trey leaned forward, reading beside Justine. “Wow, that’s a lot of money.”
“Why would Kayla have copies of bank records for this Machler?” She passed a set to Trey.
He scanned the documents, homing in on a line repeating several times each month. “Look, there are transactions from Nolan and Associates to this account.”
Justine flipped through the rest of the papers. “These are invoices for business meetings and services, but there are no details listed and the contact for the company is Underwood Machler.”
Trey glanced up. “What’s the last date on the invoices?”
“July 26.” Justine withdrew the diary and laid it on the table. “One week before Kayla’s final entry.”
“Who signed them?”
“Alex Duncan.” Justine folded the papers. “This is fishy. There’s an address on this account here in Nebraska.”
“Let’s go pay Mr. Machler a visit,” Trey said.
“Should I assume you will not be needing the safe-deposit box anymore?” Rachel asked as they exited the room.
“No, ma’am. We’ll take the contents.”
“Very well.”
Justine handed her the key and thanked Rachel for her help.
Once in the truck, Trey entered the address listed on the bank statements into his patrol GPS app and started the engine.
“I’ve never heard of this town,” Justine said.
“It’s in the middle of nowhere. GPS shows a two-hour drive from here.”
“Let’s get going.”
“First, I need to make a call.” Trey chose Slade’s number.
“Hey, Will and I finished cleaning out the barn. The damage wasn’t as bad as we thought,” Slade said by way of greeting.
“That’s great news. But I have a favor to ask.”
“Aren’t you out of those yet?”
“If this lead pans out, it’ll be my last one.” Trey gripped the steering wheel, anxious to get on the road.
“I’m listening, baby brother.”
Trey sped through an explanation, hitting the high points and ending with the newfound information. “I’d like backup just in case. I have no idea what I’m walking into.”
“Talk with Oliver first?”
“Not yet, but I will. Can you meet me out there?”
Slade sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be on my way ASAP, but I’m more than two and a half hours away. Hang tight when you get close. We’ll connect a mile out from the address and go in together.”
“All right.”
“Ask Oliver for backup,” Slade repeated.
“But I don’t know what I’m walking into. Could be absolutely nothing. And most likely he’d recommend Irwin again. I’m still not sure I trust him after the warehouse explosion,” Trey confessed.
“I think the guy’s good. A little obnoxious but not dirty. Promise you’ll wait for me before you go charging into the place. And you’ll give Oliver a heads-up.”
Trey shook off the irritation at Slade’s bossiness, conceding he was probably right. “I’ll send you my location, and you can track me on the patrol app too.”
“Roger that.”
Trey typed a text to Oliver notifying him they’d be following up on a lead and he’d report in with an update ASAP, then shifted gears. “Now we’re in business.”