Return to Mystic Lake (3 page)

John answered on the first knock. He was a handsome man with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. At the moment he wore a pair of jeans, an old T-shirt and a simmering panic that shone bright from his eyes.

Jackson took care of the introductions, and John sighed in relief. “Have you found them?” he asked as he allowed them entry into the house.

“No, and that’s why we’re here. We’d like to ask you some questions.” Although the Southern accent remained, there was nothing of the lazy charmer in Jackson’s demeanor. His eyes were an ice-blue as they gazed at John.

“Ask me questions about what?” John sank down to the sofa as if unable to stay on his feet beneath the intensity of Jackson’s gaze.

Jackson remained standing, as did Marjorie, her gaze darting around the room with professional interest. Nice furniture, although the space had a lived-in look with a newspaper spread across the top of the coffee table and several matchbox cars on a highway built of paper on the floor.

The walls were filled with Merriweather’s artistic genius, framed canvases of paintings in bright colors, including several of Amberly.

“How did you feel when your ex-wife married Cole Caldwell?” Jackson asked.

“I was happy for her...happy for them. All I ever wanted for Amberly was her happiness. What’s this all about? Surely you can’t think I had anything to do with whatever has happened to them.” John’s voice held a hint of outrage.

“Were you worried that your son might start to think of Cole as his daddy, cutting you out of his life?” Jackson’s tone held an edge of suspicion that Marjorie instinctively knew he was doing on purpose.

“That’s crazy,” John scoffed. “My son loves me and I hope he and Cole love each other. A child can’t have too many people to love them in their life.”

“What did you do over the past weekend?” Jackson asked as he pulled his small notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.

John released an impatient sigh. “I had Max all weekend. Friday night we went to a movie, Saturday we went to the mall and did a little shopping and then ate at the food court, and then Sunday we hung out here all day.” His hands clenched tight although he kept his voice calm. “You’re wasting precious time here. I would never do anything to hurt Cole and Amberly, especially because they are important to my son. I would never do something like that to him.”

He looked beseechingly at Marjorie. “Do you have children?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.” His question created a wistful ache inside her, one she quickly tamped down. In order to have any children she’d have to trust a man, and that wasn’t in the cards for her.

“Then you can’t understand the love a father has for his son.” He half rose from the sofa. “You have to find them. Max needs his mother.” Tears filled his eyes and he fell back against the cushions.

“Has Amberly mentioned any problems she’s had with anyone lately?” Jackson pressed on.

John frowned. “No, not that I can think of. She went through a terrible trauma last year, but the person who tried to kill her was shot dead. Since then she’s just seemed happy with Cole and hasn’t mentioned any problems or issues with anyone.”

Jackson wrote something down on his pad and then looked back at John. “How was your relationship with Cole?”

“Fine. It was fine.” John’s control appeared to be slipping. Marjorie saw his hands once again tighten into fists in his lap, and his voice had an edge that had been absent before. “Cole is a good man, and if I’d handpicked the man I wanted in Amberly’s life, in my son’s life, it would have been a man like him.”

He looked at Marjorie again. “Please, find them. Max needs his mother. He doesn’t know that they’re missing. I just told him his mother was late in coming back from Mystic Lake. For God’s sake, don’t make me tell him she’s missing again.” The humble plea in John’s voice shot straight to Marjorie’s heart.

“Are you seeing anyone now?” Jackson asked, obviously unmoved by John’s emotion.

“Seeing anyone? You mean, like, dating?” John shook his head. “Not at the present time.”

“Have you dated at all since your divorce from Amberly?”

John’s eyes took on a hard edge of their own. “You think I’m so obsessed with my ex-wife and that I killed her and her new husband?” he scoffed. “I’ve had several brief relationships since Amberly and I divorced.”

“Why brief?” Jackson was relentless, and still with the cold demeanor that had Marjorie thanking her stars that he’d never be interrogating her.

“I have my work and I have Max—that doesn’t leave me much time for romance.” John stood. “Are we finished here? You’re wasting valuable time when you could be out hunting who kidnapped Amberly and Cole.”

“You think they’ve been kidnapped?” Jackson jotted something else in his notepad.

John raked a hand through his hair, his features once again twisted in agony. “I don’t know. I don’t know what in the hell happened to them. I just know that Amberly would never just disappear like this on Max unless something terrible happened. You’ve got to find them.”

“We’re going to,” Marjorie said, cutting off anything else Jackson might want to say. She stepped toward where John stood and pulled one of her cards out of her pocket. “If you think of anything that might be helpful, if you remember anyone who might be a threat to Amberly or Cole, call me.”

John took the card with shaking fingers and nodded. “And you’ll let me know what’s happening with the investigation?”

“We’ll keep you up to date,” Marjorie assured him.

“Like hell we will,” Jackson said a few moments later when they were back in his car. “Right now John Merriweather is at the very top of my suspect list.”

Marjorie shot him a look of surprise.

“Think about it, Maggie. Who has the most to gain from Amberly and Cole disappearing? Max’s father, that’s who. He has a great motive for wanting them gone.”

She didn’t want to even think about the fact that he’d just called her Maggie, something nobody else in her entire life had ever done. She didn’t intend to reprimand him now, as right now she was considering what he’d said about John Merriweather.

“He might have a good motive to get rid of them in a sick sort of way, but he doesn’t have opportunity. He had his son with him all weekend long,” she replied.

She pulled out of the Merriweather driveway and headed in the direction of the Kansas City field office where they would next be interviewing Amberly’s closest coworkers.

“I saw a picture of Max and his dad on the bookcase. What is he...about six?” Jackson asked.

“Seven,” Marjorie replied. “I think he’s going to be eight in a couple months.”

“I don’t know about you but when I was seven my father could have tucked me into bed and then left the house, gone to a movie, slept with a woman and been back home again before I woke up the next morning.”

She slid him a curious glance. “And where would your mother have been while your father was out through the night hours?”

“Dead. She died when I was five, of cancer. But that really doesn’t matter now—my point is that John could have easily slipped outside the house while Max slept, driven to Mystic Lake and done something to Amberly and Cole and been back before Max awoke the next morning.”

“So, supposing he made that midnight run to Mystic Lake, then where are Amberly and Cole? If he killed them, why not just leave the bodies in the house?”

“Nobody said I had all the answers, darlin’. I just have theories.”

“I think this one is kind of lame,” she replied.

“Maybe,” he agreed, the laid-back agent once again present. “John mentioned something about the last time a man tried to kill Amberly. What was that all about?”

“It’s actually the case that brought Amberly and Cole together. Somebody was killing young women in Mystic Lake and leaving dream catchers hanging over their bodies. The mayor of Mystic Lake asked for FBI help, and since Director Forbes thought Amberly was the perfect agent to assist, because of the Native American overtones, she was sent to Mystic Lake to work with Cole.”

She paused to make the turn into the parking area of the field office, a three-story brick building in the downtown area. “The perp eventually went after Amberly and trapped her in a rented storage unit. It was John’s best friend and neighbor who had taken her.”

She frowned in thought as she pulled into a parking place. “Ed...Ed Gershner was his name. He had some crazy notion that the only way John would be happy again was if Amberly was dead and John could finally forget her. Thankfully, Cole found Amberly, killed Ed and the rest, as they say, is history.”

She turned off the engine and they both got out of the car. “Hopefully these interviews will go fairly quickly. It’s got to be getting close to lunchtime by now,” he said.

Marjorie hurried after his long strides, successfully stifling the impulse to knock him upside his head.

Chapter Three

Amberly Nightsong Caldwell’s coworkers at the FBI field office had little to disclose about anyone who might want to harm her. She wasn’t currently assigned to any active case. Her director knew she was in the middle of a transitional time in moving Cole into her home, and so he’d given her desk duty pushing paperwork, and regular hours until she and Cole got things settled.

Jackson had stepped back and allowed Marjorie to interview the players, since they were also her coworkers.

He quickly noticed that while the people they spoke to all appeared to respect Marjorie, none of them seemed to be particularly close to her. She was apparently a loner who didn’t require friends.

Jackson had tons of men he counted as close friends in past partners and at the Baton Rouge field office. Jackson wasn’t only considered a ladies’ man—he was a man’s man, as well.

He was the first one to invite a crew over to his place for drinks and chips and dip during a football game, or get together a group to do some horseback riding at nearby stables or head to a firing range for a little impromptu competition.

One thing had become increasingly clear to Jackson as the morning had gone on. Marjorie Clinton was one uptight woman. She smiled rarely and the few she sent his way were filled with either irritation or a strange curiosity, as if he were a species of animal she didn’t know and certainly didn’t trust.

She intrigued him. He was interested to know her background, what made her who she was today. It was unusual for him to care enough to want to know that much about a woman.

When they’d finally finished up with Amberly’s coworkers, he’d insisted they find a place where they could sit and eat lunch before beginning the next phase of interviews in Mystic Lake.

“Don’t look so miserable,” he told her when they sat down across from each other in a booth in a nearby diner.

“We could have just done drive-through on the way to Mystic Lake and saved some time,” she replied.

Jackson opened a menu and shoved it toward her. “Mystic Lake will still be there whether we take ten minutes doing drive-through or half an hour actually sitting and eating.”

“Don’t you feel any urgency?” she asked, leaning toward him, her green eyes shining brightly. Her lashes were long and dark brown and he noticed, not for the first time that day, that she smelled of the fresh scent of a fabric softener combined with a hint of wildflowers.

“Ladybug, we’re past the point of urgency. Urgency should have happened Saturday or Sunday. I wonder how the burgers are here?” He shouldn’t be thinking about how good she smelled or the fact that he’d like to see a genuine smile from her directed at him.

“Who cares? I have a case of two missing people, and a partner who only wants to know when his next meal is due.”

“Do you have many friends?” he asked.

She blinked twice and sat back. He knew she’d worked up a head of steam about taking the time out for lunch and probably was ticked off by the use of a pet name. His question had caught her off guard.

Her cheeks dusted a beautiful pink. “Actually, no. I don’t have a lot of friends. I work all the overtime I can get and I spend my free time either sleeping or visiting with my mother.”

“And your father?”

She opened her menu and lowered her gaze. “He died when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been tough for you and your mother.”

“We got by,” she replied, and still didn’t meet his gaze.

“You’re more comfortable if we talk about the case?”

He was rewarded with a flash of her eyes as she gazed up at him intently. “Yes,” she said. “Unfortunately I don’t think this is tied to anything Amberly was currently working on. Nobody we spoke to indicated she was having problems with anyone.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of a blonde waitress with large breasts and a name tag that read June. “Hey, sweet June bug, how about you get us a couple of burgers and fries,” he said.

“And what would you like to drink?” She practically tittered the words as she blushed at Jackson.

“I’ll take a diet cola,” Marjorie said stiffly.

“And I’ll take a regular,” Jackson replied.

As the waitress left the table with a swing of her hips, Marjorie shot him a wicked stare. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Maybe I don’t want to help myself,” he replied, and leaned forward. “Do you know how many jackasses June bug probably puts up with on a daily basis? Bad tippers, chronic complainers... What’s wrong with giving her a little ray of sunshine. It cost me nothing and made her smile.”

She studied him for a long moment. “I’m not sure if I like you or not, Special Agent Revannaugh.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ve really only known me for less than a day. I’ll grow on you.”

“Right, like moss,” she said dryly.

“Okay, just to get on your good side, we’ll talk about the case. You’re right. I think if we’re going to find answers they are going to be in Mystic Lake. There has been no ransom demand, so if they were kidnapped it wasn’t for money.”

“They were kidnapped,” she said with a certainty. “That’s the only thing that could keep Amberly away from her son.” She frowned thoughtfully. “We don’t even know for sure who the intended victim was. One was probably the victim and the other was collateral damage.”

“If Amberly was the intended victim, then we already have a suspect with a motive in John,” he replied. “We’ll see what we turn up in Mystic Lake and see if Cole might have been working on a case that caused somebody to want revenge of some kind.”

“I still can’t believe that John would do anything to hurt Cole or Amberly,” she replied.

“Yeah, but one of her coworkers mentioned that after Ed the potential killer was killed, John tried one last time to get back with his ex-wife,” Jackson reminded her.

“But it obviously went nowhere and Amberly and John remained friends. Cole and Amberly got married and everyone moved on with their lives.”

“At least on the surface,” he replied.

The waitress returned with their drinks, flashing Jackson a wink as she placed his before him. “Burgers will be right up,” she said.

“Thanks, June bug,” he replied.

“Do you suffer from multiple personality disorder?” Marjorie asked.

Jackson nearly snorted pop through his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When you were interviewing John earlier you were sharp, no-nonsense and on top of your professional game, but now you’re totally different. You’re a laid-back flirting machine.”

“Flirting machine. Hmm, I like that,” he said in amusement and then sobered. “Maggie, if you play this game too long without being able to compartmentalize, you burn out quickly,” he replied. “If I were to make a prediction, I’d guess that you’re going to burn out fast if you approach all of your cases with the same intensity you’re already using to attack this one.”

At that moment June arrived with their burgers, and for a few minutes they both focused on their food. Marjorie ate quickly, obviously eager to get back on the road and moving.

“So, who are we talking to in Mystic Lake?” he asked as he dragged a French fry through a pool of ketchup.

“Our point person there is Deputy Roger Black. He wasn’t at the scene last night but we’re to meet him in his office when we hit town. He’s acting sheriff until Cole is found,” she said.

“Has he managed to get us any suspects? Mentioned anything Cole was working on?”

“I’ve only had a brief conversation with him and we didn’t get into the details. I’m hoping he’ll have some information when we meet with him.” She looked at her watch and then quickly took another bite of her burger.

“How long have you been on the job?” he asked.

“Two years. I joined the FBI when I turned thirty. I was a cop before that.” She used a napkin to dab her mouth. “What about you?”

“Seven years. I was twenty-eight when they tapped me for recruitment. And like you, before that I was working as a homicide cop and working with a behavioral unit to aid in profiling violent offenders. My work there caught the FBI’s eyes and here I am.”

“But there’s no indication that what we’re dealing with here is a particularly violent offender.” Her eyes shimmered with the need to believe that.

Jackson sighed. He’d made a vow long ago to himself that he would never, ever lie to a woman, no matter how painful the truth might be.

“It’s too early to know,” he finally replied. “All we know for sure right now is that it appears that nothing violent occurred at Cole’s house.”

A look of pain tightened her features. She might appear uptight and in control, but Jackson had a feeling she was soft, too soft for the job she was doing.

“I’m hoping at least Deputy Black can give us somewhere to begin,” Marjorie said when they were once again in the car and headed to Mystic Lake.

“Have you considered the possibility that they might be dead?” Jackson asked softly.

He saw the impact of his words in the swift etch of pain that once again crossed her features, in the tightening of her fingers around the steering wheel. “It’s too early in the investigation to come to that conclusion. We have a lot of things to accomplish before we even consider that.”

“It’s been four days since anyone has heard from them.” He wanted to prepare her for whatever they might discover. He was also surprised to realize that he somehow wanted to protect her.

He chalked it up to the fact that she was a relatively new agent while he was a seasoned veteran who had seen the horrible things people were capable of doing to each other.

“I know, but we have absolutely no evidence to support that they’ve been murdered.”

“Right now we don’t even have the evidence to support that they’ve been kidnapped,” he reminded her.

“All I know for sure is that something bad has happened to them and we need to figure out what it was, who it is who’s kept Amberly away from her son.”

Jackson didn’t want to remind her that the case he’d been working on in Bachelor Moon had involved three people who had gone missing and had yet to be found. No answers, no closure...nothing.

Still, he couldn’t imagine how this case in Mystic Lake, Missouri, would be related to the case in Bachelor Moon, Louisiana. The two small towns were about a thousand miles away from each other. It had to be some sort of strange coincidence.

He hoped it was just a coincidence, because if the two cases were tied together he knew with certainty that they were way over their head.

* * *

“I’
VE
GOT
A
COUPLE
OF
NAMES
of people for you to check out, although I don’t have any evidence that either of them were involved.” Roger Black looked ill at ease seated in the chair behind the large oak desk that belonged to his boss.

“What I’m hoping is that Cole decided to surprise Amberly with an impromptu late honeymoon and they’re off on some exotic island enjoying their time alone,” he added.

“Did Cole mention a trip?” Marjorie asked, hoping that there might be a possibility of a happy ending, after all. Maybe John had forgotten plans for a honeymoon that the couple had.

“Nothing specific, but it wasn’t too long ago he said he had a mind to surprise Amberly with a trip to the Bahamas,” Roger replied.

“Have you checked financials? Talked to airlines?” Jackson asked.

Roger swept a hand through his brown hair. “To be honest with you, we haven’t done much of anything since we heard the Feds were being called in. According to the mayor, you are in charge. I’ve got my men ready to cooperate and do whatever you tell us to do.”

“We’ve already lost a lot of time,” Marjorie said.

Roger shrugged. “We didn’t really get worried about them until last night. It’s not a crime for two consenting adults to take off somewhere or not be where they are supposed to be.”

“The first thing we want you to do is assign somebody to look at both Cole and Amberly’s financials, see if anything has moved since last Friday night,” Jackson said. “Check back over the last three months or so. If Cole bought tickets to an exotic island, then we’ll find proof of that.”

Roger nodded. “I’ll get Deputy Ray McCloud on it right away. He’s our techie freak. If there’s a paper trail, so to speak, of anything like that, he’ll find it.”

“I also want you to assign a couple of officers to walk the streets, ask questions and see if we can find anyone who had any contact with the missing couple after Friday night. And you mentioned a couple of names for us?” Marjorie asked.

She wanted action. She needed to be doing something to move the investigation forward as quickly as possible. Jackson was right—she worked like a dog until conclusions were reached and bad guys were arrested. She was a hare, not a tortoise.

“I know Cole was having some issues with Natalie Redwing,” Roger said.

Jackson pulled out his notepad and pen. “What kind of problems?”

“She was kind of, like, stalking him.” Roger gave a dry laugh. “Cole thought she was harmless, but irritating.” He gave them her address.

“Who else?” Marjorie asked.

“Jeff Maynard. He’s a bartender at Bledsoe’s on Main Street. He didn’t like Cole and he definitely didn’t like Amberly. He’s a hothead loser, although I doubt he has the brains to kidnap a couple of people and not leave any clues behind. Off the top of my head those are the only two I’ve ever heard about Cole having any issues with.”

Minutes later, armed with address information, Jackson and Marjorie left the small sheriff’s office and headed out to interview both new suspects.

“You can do the interviewing with Jeff Maynard and I’ll take Natalie Redwing,” Jackson said.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’d want to talk to the woman and assign me the hothead loser?” Marjorie said dryly.

Jackson gave her that slow, lazy slide of his lips into a smile that heated places inside her that had never been warm before. “I’m hoping you can find a little charm and twist that hothead loser right around your little finger.”

“Yeah, right, I’ve been holding out on you with the charm thing,” Marjorie replied sarcastically.