The Smoky Mountain Mist (13 page)

Uncle Rafe leaned closer. “Change the situation how?”

Rachel glanced at Seth. He was looking at her, finally, his gaze intense. He gave a little nod, and she lifted her chin and met her uncle’s troubled gaze. “I think someone’s trying to drive me crazy.”

Chapter Thirteen

The Song Valley Music Hall’s office was a small room in the back of the building, nestled between the large kitchen and the public restrooms. The decor was strictly old-fashioned country charm, but Seth was relieved to see that whatever his eccentricities, Rafe Hunter took his business seriously. A new computer with a flat screen monitor and an all-in-one printer/copier sat in one corner. Shiny steel file cabinets took up one wall, while a well-organized storage cubby occupied the other.

Rafe went straight to the computer and called up a document file. At a glance—all Seth got before Rafe sent the file to print and closed it up—there were six names on the list. “Do any of those people know Mr. Davenport was considering them as possible CEOs?” he asked.

“I believe George let them know. He wouldn’t want to give the trustees a list of people unwilling to consider the job, after all.”

The paper came out of the printer, and Rafe plucked it up and handed it to Rachel. “There’s your list. I hope to God you’re wrong about your suspicions, dolly. Maybe you should come stay here with Janeane and me for a while.”

“It’s not a bad idea.” Seth tamped down the part of him that was begging her to tell her uncle no. It made sense for her to get out of Bitterwood for a while. She could let Seth look into that list of people while she stayed safely out of it.

Safely away from him, too.

“No,” she said, and part of him nearly wilted with relief. “This is my life we’re talking about. I’m tired of letting everyone else make decisions for me. I need to be part of ending this mess.”

“Are you rethinking your decision to be the company CEO?” Rafe gave his niece a probing look.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I never thought I wanted to take over the company permanently, but I love the people there and I want the company to be a success. My dad believed I was the person who could do it, and the more time I’ve spent there over the past year, the more convinced I am that he’s right. I can do this job. I can do it well and take care of our customers and our employees. And I really want to, at least for a while longer. I can always go back to being a librarian later.”

Rafe cupped her cheek with one big hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on?”

As Rachel related the things that had happened around her for the past two months, Seth found himself watching Rafe carefully for his reaction. Could he have his own reasons for wanting control of the company? The music hall seemed to be successful, but appearances could be deceiving, as Seth well knew. Rafe could be neck-deep in debt. He might be a compulsive gambler or have a bad drug habit that sucked his profits dry.

It might have been too obvious to kill Rachel before her father’s death, since Rafe would be the prime suspect. He was at the top of the list to get control of the company if she were dead. Which would also make him the prime suspect if her death was suspicious in any way.

But if she were unable to fulfill the requirements of the job due to mental health problems, Rafe would have a great deal of influence if he wanted it, and nobody would suspect he’d engineered the situation.

He’d helped create this list of people to take her place. Might he have taken an even greater role, as her closest living relative, if she were declared incompetent?

If he harbored such wicked thoughts, they certainly didn’t show in his horrified expression as he listened to Rachel’s story. “My God, you should have called your aunt Janeane and me for help.”

“I wasn’t sure what was going on,” she admitted. “If Seth hadn’t found me on that bridge, I don’t even know if I’d be alive.”

Rafe blanched, his hand shaking as he lifted it to her face again. “Who would do such a thing to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“We think it must have something to do with Davenport Trucking,” Seth said. “That’s why we need the list.”

Rafe’s gaze snapped up to meet his. “What is your part in all this?”

The easy answer, of course, was that FBI Special Agent in Charge Adam Brand had asked him to keep an eye on Rachel. But since he hadn’t shared that information with her yet, he didn’t think it was a good idea to spill the beans in front of her uncle.

“I work at Davenport Trucking,” he answered. “The family’s been good to me, and I know a little something about deception. I guess in some ways, I’m uniquely suited to unravel a plot against Rachel.”

“Thank you kindly for your help, then. But I can take care of her now. Dolly, you need to pack up and come stay with Janeane and me.”

“No.” Rachel’s response was quiet but firm. “I’m an adult, and I will take care of myself.”

“Rachel—” Seth began.

She turned her cool blue gaze to him. “Yes?”

He didn’t want to argue with her in front of her uncle, so he nodded toward the list. “Anything stand out?”

She took a look at the list, her brow furrowed. “Not really. Most of the people are Davenport Trucking employees—Stan Alvis, who’s the chief financial officer, Drayton Lewis, our comptroller, your direct supervisor at the garage, Gary Adams—hmm.” She frowned a little.

“What?” Seth asked.

“Paul is on this list.” She looked up at her uncle. “If he was willing to be CEO, why didn’t my dad give him the job outright?”

Rafe shrugged. “He wanted it to be you. In fact, I’m the one who suggested Paul. I figured Diane would be hurt if we didn’t, and the boy has been a loyal employee for nearly a decade now.”

Seth considered what he knew about Paul Bailey. The guy came across as a put-together, confident businessman, but even though he’d been with the company for years, he didn’t haunt the doors of the place the way George Davenport had, or even some of the other people on the short list. Seth’s own boss, Gary, worked long hours and was a stickler about getting the job done right. He was blue-collar and rednecked, but Gary was smart, too. What he lacked in formal education, he made up for with his inquisitive mind and strong work ethic.

If Seth were picking a new CEO, he’d definitely go for Gary Adams over Paul Bailey, despite the seeming disparity between the two men.

But he wasn’t looking for a CEO.

He was looking for a killer. Which of the people on that list wanted the job badly enough to kill for it?

And why?

* * *

D
ELILAH
H
AMMOND
HAD
spent almost half her life away from Bitterwood and normally thought it a good thing. Her first eighteen years growing up on Smoky Ridge had been a long, exhausting exercise in avoidance. She’d dodged her father’s blows and her mother’s selfish neediness. She’d kept clear of Seth’s self-destructive anger and the constant temptations of drugs, booze and sex, determined to get an education and get the hell out of the mountains with her future intact.

Good grades and hard work had earned her scholarships to college. More hard work had gotten her through the FBI Academy and onto a fast-paced domestic terrorism task force. Later, she’d left the bureau for the private sector and ended up where she was now, working for former marine Jesse Cooper and his family’s security agency. She had a life. A purpose. Bitterwood, Tennessee, should have been in her rearview mirror, not her windshield.

But as she wound her way through the curves of Vesper Road toward Ivy Hawkins’s house, closer and closer to the brushed-velvet peak of Smoky Ridge, she felt an odd, pulling sensation in the center of her chest.

Home,
she thought, and bit her lip at the image. Just no getting away from it after all.

There was a black Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway, she saw as she turned off Vesper Road. Ivy Hawkins was back.

As it turned out, so was Sutton Calhoun, Ivy’s boyfriend and one of Delilah’s oldest friends and a colleague at Cooper Security. He came out onto the porch before Delilah had opened the driver’s door of his truck, the expression on his tanned face fiercely grim.

Delilah’s stomach cramped at the sight of him. Had something happened on his trip to northern Iraq? Nobody at Cooper Security had mentioned any trouble when she’d been there for the meeting last night.

“You’re back,” she greeted him, not bothering with a smile. He clearly wasn’t in the mood.

Ivy Hawkins came out and stood beside him on the porch, her dark eyes blazing with anger. “Have you seen your brother lately?”

Oh, no,
she thought. “Not since yesterday morning,” she answered, climbing the steps slowly. “Why?”

Sutton gestured with his head for her to follow him inside the house. He led her into the study, where Ivy kept her computer. The laptop was open, and a photo of Rachel Davenport filled the screen.

Delilah walked closer, studying the photo with a frown. The photo had been taken at the funeral, she realized. Mourners were gathered around her, but she was definitely the focus of the image.

“Where did that come from?” She braced herself for the answer.

Sutton reached behind the laptop and pulled out a pair of sunglasses attached to a neck cord. It took a second look to realize the neck cord had a small connector jack built in. When Sutton picked up a small, rectangular plastic device and plugged in the cord, she realized what it really was.

“A spy camera.” She looked up at Sutton. “Where’d you find this?”

“At my father’s house.” He put the unit down. “It was lying out in the open, next to the computer.”

“And you think it’s Seth’s.”

“Don’t you?”

Delilah looked at the photo of Rachel Davenport still up on the computer screen. She’d caught Seth at the funeral and called him on being there, accusing him of trying to run some kind of con on Rachel.

He’d said he was there just to say goodbye to his employer. Clearly, he hadn’t told her everything.

She closed her eyes. “How many photos?”

“About a hundred, spanning the past two weeks. He’s been keeping an eye on Rachel Davenport primarily, although there were also some photos of the trucking company personnel. I don’t know what your brother is up to, but it can’t be good. He’s put a hell of a lot of sweat and coin into following that woman around.”

She forced herself to ask the obvious question, even though it made her sick to think about. “You think he’s connected to the murders?”

The look of pity Sutton sent her way felt like a gut punch. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Where is Seth now?” Ivy asked. She was clipping her badge to the waistband of her jeans, Delilah realized.

“You’re back on the job?” she asked. Ivy had been on administrative leave since Mark Bramlett’s death.

“As of today,” she said with a lopsided smile. “Never realized how much I’d want back on the job until I was forced off.”

“What about you, Sutton? Still planning to give your notice and move back here to Hillbilly Heaven?”

Sutton put his hands on Ivy’s shoulders. “Already gave my notice. The Iraq mission was my last one. I’m back in Bitterwood to stay.”

Funny, Delilah thought, how a place so full of bad memories still had a way of getting under the skin. She’d never figured Sutton would come back to Bitterwood any more than she would. “Are you planning to arrest Seth?”

“Not sure we have what it takes to get a warrant,” Ivy admitted. “But I’m definitely going to ask him a few questions.”

* * *

“Y
OU
SHOULD
HAVE
stayed with your uncle and aunt.”

The first words Seth had spoken in almost two hours came out so soft she almost didn’t hear them. She turned down the radio and met his brooding gaze. “I’m not going to hide in Bryson City. If someone’s screwing around with my life, I have a right to know about it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be in the crosshairs.”

“If this is your way of backing out of the investigation, just say so.”

“I’m not saying that,” he said quickly.

She turned onto the narrow, winding road that led to her family home, her stomach tensing as she thought about what might await her at the end of the road. She hadn’t yet called the locksmith to change the locks nor gotten an estimate from an alarm company. Maybe she’d been depending on Seth Hammond too much. She needed to be able to meet Seth on equal footing, not as a victim. That’s not the way she wanted him to think of her. Not by a long shot.

“If you want out, I’ll understand. I don’t want you to see me as an obligation.

His unnerving silence stretched out long enough for them to reach the end of her driveway. As she turned down the drive, his next words nearly ran her off onto the lawn. “I’m working for an FBI agent.”

She righted the car, put on the brakes and looked at him. “What?”

“I’ve done some informant jobs for an FBI agent my sister once worked with. Mostly undercover kind of stuff, places I could easily go that the FBI couldn’t. A few weeks ago, just after Mark Bramlett died, my FBI handler called me and asked me to keep an eye on you.”

Rachel pulled up outside the garage doors and parked, turning to look at Seth. He gazed back at her, clear-eyed.

“Why?” she asked.

“He didn’t say exactly.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“I asked. He didn’t say. All he told me is that this one wasn’t for the FBI. It was personal.”

“Personal?” That answer made even less sense than the FBI being interested in her life. “What’s his name?”

Seth looked reluctant, but he finally answered, “Adam Brand. He’s a special agent in charge in the Washington D.C. field office.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“I don’t think it’s that kind of personal.”

“There’s more than one kind of personal?”

He gave a soft huff of laughter. “There’s all kinds of personal, sugar. But what I mean is, I got the feeling he’s talking about your situation being of interest to him for a personal reason.”

“And you didn’t press him on it?”

“We’ve always had a need-to-know kind of relationship,” he explained with a half smile. “If I need to know, he’ll tell me. If he doesn’t tell me, I don’t need to know.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“I’m not crazy about it,” he admitted. “But I’ve helped the FBI stop some very bad people from doing terrible things.” His grimace suggested some of those terrible things had come very close to happening to him. “Adam Brand is one of the good guys, and there aren’t many of them willing to give me a break.”