Silent Deceit (5 page)

  "You're kidding me. The poor
librarian. I don't imagine she sees the likes of Blue in the stacks very
often." And just like that, the tears started to fall for her awkward,
dumb-as-a-post brother. The only person she knew who still had a plastic pen protector
in his shirt pocket. Electrical tape held his glasses together, for heaven's
sake, and she imagined people stared at him in the library too. Of course, she also knew Zach was a con artist, his nerdy persona
hiding his criminal side. And still she cried.

  Skip wrapped his arms around her, sat on
the stairs, and tugged her into his lap. Perched on his knee, she felt like a
child. Which didn't slow her waterworks. Damn it, why couldn't he just sock her
in the shoulder and demand she pull herself together?

  Natasha bit down hard on her bottom lip.
"What if we don't find Zach?"

  "We will, Tas. We won't give up
until we do." He kissed her again, this time with a lot of tongue. She
opened, losing herself in the moment. His peppermint taste, the feel of his
strong arms sheltering her from the cold eased the fear churning her insides,
and took some of the sadness away. "We'll keep looking."

  A sound in the distance caught her
attention. Natasha recognized the revs of her CO's Harley V-ROD roaring up the
logging road. Another few minutes and Blue came crashing out of the brush like
a wild man, pushing them aside to take the stairs two at a time. He briefly
glanced down at them. "Jeez, why don't you two rent a room?"

  "We did," Skip said. "But
somehow we never have it to ourselves."

  "Hey, it's paid for by law
enforcement. Live with it." Blue banged on Rena's door.  "Open up,
sweet cheeks, or I'll break it down."

  "Will you quit the racket?" Rena threw the door wide. "What the heck is the matter
with you?"

  "I want to see Tigz."

  "He's sleeping."

  "Not anymore." Blue picked Rena
up under the arms and deposited her on the small porch. "Stay out here
with Skip."

  Not waiting for an answer, Blue pushed
inside. Natasha followed behind him, scanning the small apartment for the
biker. There was no place for a big man to hide, unless he was under the bed.
She dropped to her knees, making sure Blue had his gun drawn before she lifted
the edge of the quilt. No one was there. "He can't have gotten far."

  "Rena?" Blue shouted. "I'm
running out of patience. Where's Tigz?"

  "What, are you blind? He's lying on
the bed." She poked her head around the corner. "See? There he
is."

  Natasha looked at the bed and swallowed
hard. The moth-eaten fur quilt moved. "Uh, Blue? I don't think I've seen
that furry blanket on Rena's bed before. And its eyes are staring right at you.
What is that?"

  At least thirty-five pounds of angry cat
sprang to its feet, growling and hissing. Claws bared, it launched itself
through the air—aiming straight for Falcone. Arms
pinwheeling, her CO tried to get out of its path. He
didn’t make it, the cat raking its claws down his arms.

  Natasha shrieked.

  Skip cleared the threshold with his fists
up and legs spread in a fighter's stance. He shoved Natasha behind him, took one
look at the flying feline, and let loose with an f-bomb.
"Motherfuck!"

  S
kip barely had time to move out of the
way before Tigz raced past him for the stairs and sprang into the woods. A
silver blur with the facial markings of a cheetah, he had black spots on his
body and a black ringed tail. Judging from his height and weight, Skip figured
he wasn't a domestic feline, but something else entirely. "What the hell
was that? I'm betting he's a hybrid of some kind that's crossed with a wildcat."

  "I've never seen anything like him
before," Natasha said, shielding her eyes with a hand as she followed
Tigz's progress into the forest. "Maybe he's on the endangered list."

  "If not, he soon will be...once I
have him in my gun sights," Blue grumbled, applying pressure to the gouges
on his forarms with the clean
towel Rena handed him.

  Oh-oh, Skip had a feeling his CO would be
on the endangered list himself once Rena got through with him. She didn't
appear real happy to see her Tigzie heading back to the great outdoors.

  "This is
your
fault,"
Rena shouted, jabbing a finger at Blue's chest. "You barged into my home
and scared him half to death!"

  "Look, Rena." Natasha's brows
knit together on a scowl as she slid between Blue and the other woman, no doubt to prevent more blood being shed, namely Blue's.
"If it's anyone's fault,
you're
to blame. First, you led us to
believe Tigz was a man. Then you refused to come with us after work today. You
also said Tigz was with you and he was in a
bad
mood, which could mean
any damn thing. For all we knew, he was an a-hole
biker who planned to beat the bejesus out of you as soon as we left you
alone."

  Rena processed that info and backed off a
little. She eyed Blue surreptitiously, as if unsure what to do next. "If
that's true then I apologize. I admit I enjoyed the gag when you thought Tigz
was a guy, but I guess I carried it too far."

  "Yeah, you did." Blue folded
the bloody towel and handed it back to her. "But I'll let it slide,
providing you toe the line from here on in. Now grab a jacket and pack a bag.
You're not staying here tonight."

  "Sure." She turned to walk into
her apartment. "Just give me a minute to leave food and water out and open
a window for Tigz, in case he comes back."

  "What?" Blue cracked a grin from
ear-to-ear. "You have a water buffalo in your fridge to feed this
guy?"

  Forty minutes later, Skip swung the
pickup onto Canyon Creek Road. Blue rode shotgun beside him. Natasha and Rena
shared the jump seat in back. They had the V-ROD secured in the truck bed.

  The night was black, lots of cloud cover
and no stars in the sky. Daylight had turned to dark in the time it took them
to place their orders at the fast food joint, and pass along the drive thru
line to pick them up at the far side of the building.

  Rena gathered the empty food wrappers and
cups while Skip kept eyes on the road and questioned his CO. "You want to
fill us in? Tell us where we're going?"

  "Sure." Blue turned sideways in
the seat, crossing a booted foot over his opposite knee. "Thanks to Mary-Jane,
the helpful librarian, I'm the proud recipient of a land surveyor map for this area, dating back to when
Kingman
Coal Mining
was in operation. She also put me in touch with a retired
geologist up here who dabbles in prospecting. When I mentioned Deuce Kingman to
him on the phone, he clammed up...said he'd only talk to me face-to-face. I'm
guessing he has some stories to tell."

  "Yeah, but he probably wants to see your RCMP creds first," Skip mused. "I hope
you brought your ID, 'cuz we don't exactly look like feds."

  "No worries. It's hidden in the
lining of my belt. What about you?"

  "Would you believe it's at home in
my bureau drawer?" Skip processed the eye roll Blue sent his way. Sure,
his boss might be slightly miffed, but they all knew they would be signing
their death warrants to get caught with police credentials when working
undercover. He figured Blue had only added his to his belt that afternoon, and
most likely kept it sealed in his gas tank the rest of the time. "Tas? What
about you?"

  "It's sitting in my safety deposit
box at the bank in Calgary. I'm here on vacation, remember?"

  "Holy cow! What's that?" Rena
unsnapped her seatbelt and leaned forward between the front seats. "I
think something is on fire up the road."

  She was right. The glow turned into major
fireworks with the sound of an ear-splitting explosion.

  "Christ! It must be Wilder's
place." Tossing Rena his cell phone, Blue reached for his Glock and
checked the load. "Call it in!"

  "Tas, grab the 12-guage off the gun rack."
Skip hit the gas pedal and wheeled into the driveway. Revving on the incline,
he reached in a jean pocket and threw her a set of keys.  "The shells are
locked in the drawer underneath."

  Natasha lost no time racking the shotgun
as he screeched to a halt. "Good to go. I'll cover you while you search
for Wilder."

  That's what Skip needed to hear. He
couldn't carry weaponry and a possible victim at the same time. They charged
from the pickup and raced for the barn. The blaze from its roof shot twenty feet
into the air. Thank God, it hadn't spread to the house. Yet.

  He and Blue opened the doors in tandem
with Natasha as back up. That's when Blue noticed Rena in the mix. "Get
back to the truck."

  "I can't hear you! I'll free the
animals while you find Wilder!" She bolted into the building the second
the doors slid on their tracks. Blue followed her into the smoke with a curse.

  "They've gone left," Natasha
shouted, eyeing the flames eating through the ceiling. It could collapse at any
second. "We'll go right."

  "Hang onto my belt, and stay
low!" The smoke was thick, making it hard to breathe. Skip pulled off his
jacket, covering his mouth and nose. Natasha did the same.

  "Wilder?
Where are you? Answer me!"

  "I see him!" Natasha pointed a
few paces ahead of them. The man lay unconscious against the wall. "Blue,
we've found Wilder!"

  Skip swept the older man into a
firefighter's carry and reversed direction for the doors. "You take the
lead, Tas. There might be unfriendlies waiting for us outside."

  "I got it." Natasha hooked his
hand on her waistband, exactly where his fingers wanted to be under better
circumstances.

  He hoped Wilder was still alive, but
there was no time to check for vitals or apply CPR. Dead or alive, they were
bringing him out. As they made it outside the doors and hit the dirt, he could
hear the terrified bray of a mule coming from the far side of the barn. Jesus,
would Rena and Blue be able to free it in time?

  Natasha knelt on one knee, sweeping back
and forth with the shotgun, searching for the bastards who had started the
blaze. Yeah, he'd smelled the accelerant when they'd opened the barn doors. The
fire was no accident. The good news? Wilder was still alive. Skip listened to
his chest as he breathed. And counted the seconds Blue and Rena were still
inside the barn.

  Fire trucks, EMTs, and black and whites roared up the drive. Only then did Natasha lower the
shotgun. Damn, he was proud of her. "Stay with Wilder. I'm going back for
the others."

  "No, Skip!" She clutched his
shirt when he sprang to his feet. "The firefighters will do it."

  "There's no time, baby." He
brushed her cheek with a kiss, angling for the barn again.

  The roof
collapsed with a roar, with Rena and Blue still
inside. Skip fell to his knees, wanting to weep at the injustice.

––––––––

  "M
y f-fault." Skip held Natasha
in his arms. The more he tried to console her, the harder she choked back her
tears. Damn it, she was a cop, not a helpless girly-girl. She needed to walk
the crime scene, not blubber into his shirt like a pathetic loser. "Let go
of me. We owe it to Blue to find out who did this.
Shit! If he hadn't been searching for my b-brother, he would still be
a-alive."

  Skip cupped her face and looked into her
eyes. She could see his pain, his loss. Knew he suffered as much as she did. He
swallowed hard, seemed to be searching for the right words to say. "Honey,
that's..."

  "Absolute bullshit." Blue
rounded the corner of the smoldering barn with Rena in his arms. He hit his
haunches and lay her on the grass. She was conscious, but coughing and gasping
for air. "We need oxygen over here! STAT!"

  Two paramedics came running. Blue backed
away as they lifted her onto a gurney, and placed an oxygen mask over her nose
and mouth. While they examined her for burns and other injuries, he turned to
Natasha and Skip, wrapping them both in a bear hug. Then he focused his full
attention on her.

  "Listen, Nat, when I check out of
this big, bad world, it won't be because of anything you did or didn't
do."

  "But..."

  "Stop being such a wienie." He
shot her a grin, the soot smudging his face making his teeth stand out like
pearls in the night. "Go over there and talk to those firefighters. Use
your feminine wiles and see what you can drag out of them. The fire inspector
won't release his findings for at least a week. I want to know how the fire
started tonight."

  "Blue!" The muffled sound of
Rena's voice through the oxygen mask caused them all to turn in her direction.
"Get me off this gurney. I need to check on the mule."

  "Fool woman almost died saving the
stupid thing," he mumbled, giving Rena the thumbs up sign. "Keep
sucking in that oxygen, sweet cheeks. No need to worry, Mr. Wilder's neighbor
took charge of the mule."

  "Is she okay?" Natasha heard
concern in Skip's voice, not that it surprised her. Rena looked like a beaten
up street person, complete with knuckle tatts, piercings, and her flaming red
bangs.

  "She'll be fine." Blue placed a
hand on Skip's shoulder, speaking in a low tone. "Call the field office. I
want a guard put on Wilder twenty-four/seven. Whoever missed killing him
tonight might try again."

  "Excuse me." One of the
paramedics approached them. "We're transporting your friend to the
hospital. We want to keep her under observation for the night. We don't think
there's anything seriously wrong, but we want to be sure."

  Blue eyeballed the man's nametag with a
cold stare. "Thanks, Steve, but that won't be necessary. She's coming with
us."

  "I don't think you underst—"

  "Is this what
she
wants?" Natasha cut in; knowing Rena had no intention of being
hospitalized. Heck, she could see her shaking her head from where she lay on
the gurney.

  "Not exactly, but—"

  "Then thanks for your concern."
Blue hovered over the shorter man like a bad smell. "We'll take good care
of her."

––––––––

  "C
ome on, it'll be fun."
Natasha swished through multicolored leaves covering the flagstone entrance to
the library. She loved the vibrancy of a sunny fall day. It almost made up for
the long months of winter that were just around the corner. "All you have
to do is ask Mary-Jane for a library card and flirt with her a little. Get her
to tell us who she talked to about Mr. Wilder planning
to meet with Blue last night."

  "I don't know about this." Skip
peered through the tempered glass windows to the front desk. "She looks
like she’s about seventy years old. I don't think flirting will work."

  "You're acting like a chicken
shit." Natasha stuffed her hands under her armpits and flapped her arms
like chicken wings. "Bok, bok, bok, bok, bok!"

  "Cluck, cluck. That's me." He
grabbed the lapels of her suede jacket and tugged her close, kissing her on the
lips. "Better lead the way before I change my mind."

  "Got'cha." Slipping her arm
through his, they passed through the double entry doors. Natasha looked over at
the elderly lady checking in returned books and DVDs. She wore a no-nonsense
navy shirtwaist dress with a white lace collar. Wire-rimmed glasses hung from a
chain around her neck. Her hair coiled around her head in a tight grey braid,
and pearl clip-ons, a slash of red lipstick, and a dusting of face powder
completed her ensemble. Hmm, Skip might be right. She didn't exactly look like
the flirting type. Still, Natasha patted him on his well shaped behind and sent
him on his way. "Go take one for the team, slugger."

  Skip sidled up to the front desk and
smiled. Nothing. He leaned on the counter, did everything but stand on his head
to get the woman to notice him. No dice. She kept working the library stamp,
then sliding book jackets and DVDs under the electronic scanner. Stamp. Scan.
Stamp. Scan. God forbid the stack of returns wait while she served a live
customer. Shoot, Natasha wondered what secret weapon Blue had used to have
Mary-Jane tripping over herself to help him yesterday. Whatever it was, Skip obviously
didn't have the knack. What a terrible blow to his ego. Shaking his head and
clearly frustrated, he tapped the service bell on the counter a few times.

  "Oh, my!" A perky, big-busted
woman in a tight red pencil skirt and white
silk blouse displaying a lot of cleavage hustled out of the
back office and straight up to Skip. Natasha couldn't be sure at this distance,
but she suspected the woman's breasts hung over the counter enough to touch his
arm. Her short hair was puffed up and frizzed out in shades of autumn; yellow,
red and burnt orange. Stage quality makeup lined, rouged, and highlighted every
inch of her somewhat attractive face. Natasha guessed her age was somewhere
between twenty and fifty. It was hard to tell, given her flair for cosmetics. "My name is Mary-Jane. How may I help you?"

  An easy-peasy cakewalk,
Skip was off to the races with Mary-Jane hanging from his arm by her manicured
fingernails. She swept him along on her four-inch spike heels, away from the watchful gaze of the lady in charge of the library stamp.
Took him on a complete tour of the facilities, and even offered to show him the
women's bathroom and janitorial closet.