Return to Mystic Lake (12 page)

The food was delicious, the conversation not so much fun as they discussed the pitfalls and perils of their plan. “I’ll make sure we have monitors to give us vision of all areas of your yard. If anyone approaches we’ll see them before they get too close.”

“The monitors will have to be watched 24/7,” she replied. “We’ll have to take shifts.”

“We’ll do whatever we need to do.” He poured a liberal dose of syrup over his stack of pancakes and then cut into them. “We’ll put everything in place, but what I’m really hoping is that once we see that list of motorcycle owners Roger has prepared, we’ll have the name of our suspect, or at least more people to seriously look at.”

“I’m glad we’ve decided to do this. I’d much rather take chances and work the case than hide out somewhere and let others do our job for us,” she said. “I want this solved, Jackson, and I want to be a part of the solution.”

She got up from the table. “I’m going to shower and get dressed and then we’ll get out of here and back to work. I might just like being a worm dangling on a hook waiting for a shark to bite.”

He watched her as she grabbed the box from the sofa and then disappeared into her suite. He took a bite of his pancakes, but his appetite was gone.

Was this a mistake? Intentionally placing themselves in a spot where a killer might come to call? He didn’t mind taking the risk himself, but the idea of anything bad happening to Maggie set his heart plummeting to the ground.

He just hoped that when or if the time he might need to save her came, he would be the agent he thought he was, the man he believed himself to be.

Chapter Twelve

Purple. He’d bought her a jewel-tone purple blouse and black jeans that hugged her legs as though they’d been tailor-made for her. In the box there had also been a lilac bra and silk panties.

He was incorrigible, she thought as she pulled on the clothes after having taken a long, hot shower. She’d thought she wouldn’t like him. She’d believed that within two days his charming talk and easy ways would force her to strangle him. But instead, he’d captivated her.

Despite all her intentions to the contrary, she knew without doubt that Jackson Revannaugh was going to be her very first heartbreak, and she might as well prepare herself for it now.

Once she was dressed and they were ready to walk out the door, she made the call to Adam Forest to arrange for the car, and at the same time, Jackson spoke to somebody about the security system he wanted installed at her house. “We’ll meet you at Maggie’s in half an hour or so to let you inside,” he said.

With plans made to begin their day, they left the luxury suite of rooms and headed out of the hotel. “By the way, you look gorgeous,” he said as they walked side by side to the restaurant where they’d pick up the new car.

“Thanks. I’ve never had silk underwear before.”

He shot her a glance that threatened to melt her into a puddle of goo. “Don’t even talk about it—the image I get in my brain will force me to throw you down right here on the sidewalk and have my way with you,” he teased.

“One-night wonder, that’s what we were,” she replied lightly, needing to remind not just him but herself that what they had shared the night before wouldn’t happen again.

Once again the late-July sun beat down with unrelenting heat, although the air wasn’t as humid as it had been the day before.

They walked briskly. With their plans made for the day, Marjorie just wanted to stay focused on the work and not on how hot Jackson looked in his tight black jeans and white polo shirt. He wore the shirt untucked, with his belt and gun making a slight bulge on his side.

She’d always felt safe in her home, but Jackson was right—if somebody wanted to find out where she lived all it took was an internet search. She’d worked enough cases that she was surprised she’d never considered how easily somebody could find her for some sort of retribution before.

She should have had a security system in her house a long time ago, but money was so tight and she’d never felt the need for one until now. And when this case was over, she’d figure out a way to keep the security system in place.

She’d made arrangements with Adam to leave a black rental car at the farthest end of the parking lot from the restaurant. She was surprised, when they spied the car, to see Adam sitting behind the wheel.

He got out of the car when he saw them approach. Adam was a handsome man, with slightly long blond hair and pale blue eyes that looked cold and distant.

Marjorie knew he was anything but that. He was definitely one of the good guys, a talented profiler who loved research and was brilliant with a computer.

“I thought you were just leaving the keys under the mat,” she said as they reached the car.

He nodded a greeting to Jackson, and then looked at Marjorie. “I just wanted to make sure the two of you were okay. You both had your phones off last night.”

“We had a little encounter with a Mad Max character who tried to kill us,” Jackson explained. “We decided to take the night and lie low. Was there a reason you tried to call?”

“No, just a check-in.” He held out the keys to the car. “It’s rented in the name of Charles Bachman and paid up the next two weeks.”

Jackson took the keys. “Thanks.”

Adam looked at Marjorie once again. “Let me know how I can help.”

“Actually there is something you can do. Check and see if John Merriweather knows anyone who might own a motorcycle. If you find out anything give me a call.” Aware that Jackson apparently intended to drive, Marjorie slid into the passenger seat and waved at Adam, who stepped back from the car.

“He’s crazy about you,” Jackson said once they were in the car and headed to Mystic Lake.

Marjorie looked at him in surprise. “Don’t be silly. We’ve worked together on several cases. He trusts me.” Jackson had almost sounded jealous, but surely she’d misinterpreted his tone.

“Adam is a talented agent who overcame a horrible childhood. He doesn’t trust easily and he’s, for the most part, a lone wolf. But enough about Adam.”

“So, you’ve come around to my thinking that John Merriweather remains a solid suspect,” he said as he pulled onto the road that would take them to Maggie’s house.

“I’m keeping an open mind,” she replied. “It occurred to me this morning that all John would have to do was sell a couple of his paintings under the table for cash and he’d have enough money to hire himself a hit man. There would be no way to follow the money and he could keep himself distant from the violence.”

“Smart thinking, but if that’s the case he hired a local yahoo instead of a professional hit man. If this was a professional, we’d probably both already be dead.”

She couldn’t help the small shiver that swept through her at his words. He glanced at her and caught her midshiver. “Are you sure you’re up to this? I’d love to drop you off at some out-of-the-way motel and let me be the worm on the hook.”

“We’re partners, remember? There’s no way I’m going to let you go all macho on me. Is this about what happened between us last night?”

He shot a quick glance at her. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “I have to confess that a little protective streak I didn’t know I had has reared its head where you’re concerned.”

“I’m an agent first, Jackson, and then a woman.”

He grinned. “Darlin’, you were all woman last night.”

Her cheeks warmed in a familiar blush. “But that was then and this is now. Whether you like it or not, I’m dangling on that hook right next to you.”

“I figured that would be your answer.” He pulled into Maggie’s driveway, where a panel truck was already parked. “Sit tight,” he said as he opened his driver door. “This should just take a minute.”

She watched as he met with the tall bald man who got out of the truck. Interesting that there was no writing or graphics on the side of the truck to indicate that it was part of a home security business. Jackson handed the man a key she assumed was the copy of the one she’d given Jackson to her house.

“Everything should be done by the time we get home from Mystic Lake,” he said when he was back behind the wheel. “I told him to go subtle but effective. I don’t want the bad guys to know we have anything in place.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They fell silent as he headed toward Mystic Lake. For no particular reason she felt as if they were approaching the end, that the list of motorcycle owners they got from Roger might hold their answer.

Their list of suspects was still rather pathetic, with Jeff Maynard, Jimmy Tanner, Edward Bentz and John Merriweather, but if one of those names appeared on Roger’s list, then they could potentially have enough evidence to get all kinds of warrants to execute to gather even more personal information.

Even the FBI had red tape and rules that had to be followed, but Roger might hold the clue that would get them past the red tape.

Once the case was solved she saw no happiness for anyone. Cole and Amberly were probably dead, which would scar little Max for years to come and leave behind many people to mourn.

Jackson would return home, taking with him a source of energy, of life that had filled the little house with his presence.

She had a better understanding of her mother now. It wasn’t stupidity that had driven her mother into the arms of con men, it had been loneliness and the need to believe she was all the wonderful things they told her she was even as they fleeced her out of what money they could get.

As Marjorie thought of being held in Jackson’s arms the night before, of the magic of their lovemaking, she realized that despite her fight against it, she had fallen for his smooth charm, his sexy smile and the bits and pieces of the man she’d seen beneath his facade.

The case would eventually be solved, and Jackson would go home, but she knew it would take her a very long time to get him out of her system, to not think about him and ache for what might have been.

* * *

D
EPUTY
R
OGER
B
LACK
was in his usual spot behind Sheriff Caldwell’s desk. Next to the desk were wooden file cabinets, the tops stacked with files. A photo of Amberly and Cole sat on the desk, and Jackson knew that picture would be a constant reminder of his missing boss.

He stood as they entered his office. “I was just about to get some coffee. Would either of you like a cup?”

“No, thanks, we’re good,” Maggie replied.

Roger sat back down. “It took me half the night, but I got the information you requested.” He shoved several documents aside and grabbed a sheet of paper and handed it to Jackson. “I included not just the street-licensed bikes, but also the names of folks I know who have dirt bikes.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He took the list and folded it up in his pocket, making the decision that he and Maggie would pore over it when they got back to her place.

As the three of them caught up with the case as it stood, Jackson tried to ignore Maggie’s presence. He should have never bought her those tight jeans and that purple blouse. The purple was a perfect color for her red-blond hair and intense green eyes.

Most of the time when he woke up after having sex with a woman, he was ready to bolt as quickly as possible. But Maggie was different. She was special, and each time he looked at her, a new desire returned to torment him.

They had to get a quick solve and he had to get away from her. She threatened the very lifestyle he’d chosen for himself. When he’d seen her with little Max, he’d immediately seen her with another dark-haired little boy—his child.

He’d never thought about having a family, having children, before in his life, but Maggie made him think about those things. And he couldn’t go there, especially not with her.

He focused back on Roger’s musings about the case. “I just don’t understand any of it,” he said. “Usually when something bad happens here in town, eventually we hear rumors that yield clues. But this time we’ve heard absolutely nothing. Even the drunks down at Bledsoe’s haven’t given up any information that might be useful.”

He reared back in the chair and shook his head. “Cole wasn’t just my boss, he was my friend. He was a good man who most folks in town liked and respected. He had no dark secrets that might have come back to bite him. I knew him.”

“You’re speaking about him in the past tense,” Maggie said.

Roger shrugged. “After all this time, it’s my belief that they’re dead. Nobody would keep them alive so long without a ransom note filled with some sorts of demands.”

“And yet we don’t have their bodies,” Jackson said.

Roger frowned. “I figure at some point in the future some farmer will stumble on the bodies in the middle of a field or hidden in some woods.”

“And you don’t have any theories as to why the bodies wouldn’t be just left out in the open for somebody to find?” Jackson asked.

Roger shook his head. “I’ll be honest with you, we’ve been out of theories and ideas about this case since the very beginning. We were hoping the officials in Kansas City might come up with something.”

“So far, we have nothing,” Jackson said. “Except for somebody who has Maggie and me in their sites.”

“And you don’t know for sure where that threat is coming from?” Roger asked.

“I’m guessing somebody from here, but the first attack happened in Kansas City, and last night’s attack came from somebody who was here in town and followed us. We’re working the case from both ends,” Jackson replied.

“And I’ll keep working from this end. Hopefully that list I gave you will help.” Roger stood, as if aware that their conversation had come to a natural end.

Minutes later they were back in the car and headed home. Jackson was grateful for Maggie’s silence, as his head spun with suppositions and possibilities.

They had a meager list of potential suspects, and it was quite possible that the person responsible for Amberly and Cole’s disappearance wasn’t even on that short list.

It was possible that they hadn’t even made personal contact with the perp, that he was flying far enough below their radar to be completely off the screen.

Every person on the list in his pocket would have to be fully investigated. Even though he had no real evidence, he still believed the person responsible for the crime, the person who had attempted to kill him and Maggie twice, was from Mystic Lake.

“Home, sweet home,” he said as he pulled into Maggie’s driveway. There was no sign of the panel van that had been there before.

Jackson cut the engine on the car and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. It took him only minutes to connect with the tech who had done the work on the house and learn the details of what had been done.

“Okay,” he said as he dropped his cell phone back in his shirt pocket. “We’re all set.”

Together they got out of the car and as they approached the house he saw Maggie looking at the structure carefully, as if expecting to see trip lines and big cameras.

He laughed and she looked at him. “What? Were you expecting rolls of barbed wire and steel bars?”

She grinned sheepishly. “I was expecting something.”

“The eyes that protect us are no bigger than a fly. We aren’t hooked up to any monitoring system. I told him to put the camera monitors in your bedroom, and if anyone tries to breach the house through a door or a window, a siren will sound that should not just awaken us but the entire neighborhood.”

“The wonders of modern technology,” she replied as she unlocked the door. They stepped inside and he immediately moved to a keypad on the wall and punched in a series of numbers.

“The code is random. I’ll write it down for you and you need to memorize it. Too many people make the mistake of making their codes their birthdates or part of their social security or some other sequence of numbers that a determined bad guy could ferret out.”