Love Inspired Suspense December 2013 Bundle: Christmas Cover-Up\Force of Nature\Yuletide Jeopardy\Wilderness Peril (9 page)

Unease crawled up Katie's spine. “What do you mean he never came? He was coming as soon as he could after he got his car towed, got checked out at the hospital and changed his clothes. I think he had some blood on them and wanted to change. You're saying he didn't come over?”

“Right. I left a message on your voice mail at home yesterday morning.” She grimaced. “Which means you probably didn't get it.”

“No. It's been so crazy, I haven't even called to check my messages. Why didn't you leave one on my cell?”

“I started to, but the captain walked in just as I went to voice mail, so I just hung up. I figured you'd get the message at home anyway. Or see my number and call me. Which you did.”

Katie nodded. “Thanks. I'm going to find Jordan and we'll see if we can track down Mr. Young.” As she talked, she backed toward the door. And came up against what felt like a brick wall. She spun to find herself nose to chin with Jordan. His hands came up to cup her elbows. She jerked back and he gave her a crooked smile. But the glint in his narrowed eyes said he'd enjoyed the brief proximity.

Her pounding heart said she had, too.

Not going to happen, Katie, remember? His parents hate you.

She took a deep breath and filled Jordan in on the latest. His half smile dipped into full frown. “You have his address?”

She turned and looked at Tracy. “You have it?”

Tracy turned back to her computer and with a few clicks of her keyboard, she had Bobby Young's driver's license on the screen. Another click sent her printer humming. She handed the paper to Katie.

“Thanks.”

“When you find him,” Tracy said, “let me know.”

“Count on it.”

Katie walked beside Jordan as they headed down the steps and toward the exit. “Will you take me to pick up my car?”

“Now?”

“Yes. I prefer to have it.”

“You sure you're feeling all right? You just got out of the hospital. You were shot, remember?”

She shot him a sardonic look. “Really? And besides, it was just a graze.”

He gave a short laugh and said, “Sure.”

In Jordan's car, as they headed back to the hotel, Katie's phone buzzed. “Hi, Erica.”

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I've felt better, but I'm doing all right.”

“Max and I want you and Jordan to come to dinner tonight. Do you think you can make it?”

“I don't know. I don't think that's very safe for you.”

“It will be if you just make sure you're not followed.”

Katie sighed. “You know I can't guarantee that.”

“You don't want to stay here—I get that. But I think coming to eat will be fine.”

Uneasiness twisted Katie's stomach into a knot. She probably should say no, but she hadn't seen Erica in a while and would love to spend time with her and Molly. But Erica wasn't finished. “I want to discuss your case, anyway. Might as well do it here as at the office.”

“We're on our way to talk to a witness from the wreck.”

“Then come after. It's all right if it's late. I'll get Molly settled with her favorite movie so we can talk uninterrupted.”

Katie caved. “All right, then, let me ask Jordan.” He glanced at her and she relayed the invitation. He nodded. “We'll be there,” Katie said. “I'll call you when I'm on the way.”

“Great. See you when you get here.”

Katie gnawed on her lower lip. When a warm finger reached over to pull it from the clench of her upper front teeth, shivers ran through her. Jordan glanced at the traffic light then back to her. “You're going to chew right through it if you're not careful.”

She swallowed hard and then gathered her wits as he pulled into the hotel parking lot. She grabbed her keys and said, “I'll meet you there.”

“Watch your back.”

“I always do.”

Ten minutes later, she pulled behind Jordan to the curb of Bobby Young's house. As far as she could tell, no one had followed.

The clock pushed toward two o'clock. She climbed from the car and looked around. Jordan approached and she asked, “I didn't see anyone following, did you?”

“Not a soul.”

“That almost makes me nervous.”

“I understand that completely.”

Mr. Young's neighborhood was on a cul-de-sac with five other houses. Large lots and a lot of trees gave it a feeling of privacy and community at the same time. Katie nodded. “Nice place.”

“Very.”

Jordan walked up the steps to the porch of the traditional ranch and rang the bell. Katie kept an eye on the area around them. Right now, she didn't like being too exposed. The middle of her back between her shoulders itched.

No one answered the door.

“Not answering his phone, not answering the door. How old is he?” Katie asked.

“Sixty-four.”

“He could be working or retired. Do we know?”

“I have his statement on my phone. Let me see if that information came up. Hold on a second.” He pressed a few buttons. “Retired.”

“Retired usually means not at work, but never at home if the retiree is in good health and active.” She pointed to the flag hanging from the porch. “A golfer's flag. Might be on the course. We have another number for him?”

“Nope. That's his cell phone. He doesn't have a landline.”

Katie pursed her lips and walked to the garage. The double door was closed, but had four windows at the top. “I'm too short to see in. Wanna take a look?”

Jordan obliged. “A single car parked on the right side closest to the entry to the house. It's not the car from the wreck. Can't see the tags, but I'm willing to bet it's a rental.”

“Then if his car is in the garage, why isn't he answering the door or his phone?”

Before Jordan could answer, his phone rang. He listened for a few minutes then hung up. Katie lifted a brow in silent question. Jordan said, “We got a hit on the guy at the bank who made the deposit into West's wife's account.”

“Who is it?”

“A guy by the name of Norman Rhames.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Apparently he's got some ties to a terrorist group, but basically keeps his nose clean except for crimes that don't keep him behind bars for very long.”

“We need to track down this Mr. Rhames and find out who had him deposit that money.”

“Help you folks?”

* * *

Jordan turned to see a well-groomed lady in her mid-seventies standing in the drive next to Mr. Young's. She shut her mailbox and headed their way.

Jordan said, “We're looking for Mr. Young.”

“He should be there. Although I didn't see him take his usual morning walk.”

“He walks every day at the same time?” Katie asked.

“Pretty near every day. He's got a touch of arthritis but even when it's acting up, he doesn't let it keep him down for long.” She pushed her glasses a little farther up on her nose. “You're not his daughter, are you?”

Katie said, “No, ma'am. I'm Detective Katie Randall with the police department. Mr. Young was involved in a wreck a couple of days ago. We just needed to ask him a few more questions.” She flashed her badge and the woman placed a hand over her heart.

“He told me about that when he got home. He looked awful. I'd come outside for a short walk, and he pulled into the drive. His son Hunter picked him up from the hospital. Bobby had blood all over his clothes and everything. I asked if he needed anything and he said no, he just wanted to change and get to the police station. He'd seen the carjacker and needed to meet with the sketch artist. Sounded like something right off the television.”

So he'd arrived home from the hospital and had planned to meet with Tracy.

“You're pretty good friends then?”

The woman smiled, her white teeth straight and even. “I'm Janice McDowell. And yes, Bobby and I are friends as well as neighbors. We try to look out for each other since we both live alone.”

“How did Mr. Young plan to get to the police station?” Katie asked.

“He has another car. It was his wife's. He's never been able to sell it. Thankfully he wasn't hurt more than a scratch and a couple of bruises. And that carjacking! Why, what this world is coming to—” She shook her head.

“Do you have Hunter's number?” Katie asked.

“I might have it somewhere. Would take me a while to find it, probably.” She looked at the phone in Jordan's left hand. “Or you could look it up on that fancy toy of yours. I even know the name of his street because it's my daughter's name. Laurel Street.”

“Hunter Young. Laurel Street. Got it.” Jordan hit dial. “Nate, hey, I need some information.” Jordan had bypassed the white pages and gone straight to his information specialist at Quantico. Nate gave him what he needed within seconds. Jordan dialed the number that flashed up in his text message box.

“Hunter Young.”

“Hi, Mr. Young, this is Special Agent Jordan Gray with the FBI. I met your father when he was involved with the wreck a couple of days ago.” Had it only been two days? “He was supposed to come down to the police station to meet with a sketch artist, but he never showed up and we're having trouble getting in touch with him.”

Silence greeted him.

“Mr. Young?”

“I'm just thinking. I'm working at home today. I can run over and check on him and let you know.”

“We're actually at his house.”

“Oh. Stay there, I'm on the way.”

Jordan hung up and passed on the information.

“Oh, dear. I do hope everything is all right.”

Katie gave the woman a reassuring smile. “We can let you know if you'd like to wait in the comfort of your home.”

“That's a very nice way of saying I need to stay out of the way, hmm?”

Katie gave a low chuckle. “Yes, ma'am.”

Mrs. McDowell nodded and gave a light laugh, but it didn't cover her worried glance at Bobby Young's house.

“Does he have any animals?” Katie asked.

She shook her head. “No. He likes to travel too much. Said an animal would tie him down.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McDowell, you've been very helpful.”

“Please let me know when you talk to him?”

“Of course. We'll have him call you.”

She nodded and walked slowly back up her driveway.

Jordan looked at Katie. “I'm going to walk around to the back and see if I see anything.”

Katie nodded. Jordan headed around the side of the house but turned back at the sound of a vehicle approaching. A classy white convertible Mercedes with a black top. Hunter Young must do well for himself. The Mercedes pulled to the curb and a tall man in his early forties climbed from the car. A worried frown creased his forehead. “I'm Hunter Young.”

Jordan shook the man's outstretched hand. “FBI Special Agent Jordan Gray. This is Detective Katie Jacobs.”

He blanched. “Since when does the FBI investigate a car wreck?”

Katie flashed her badge and said, “He was with me working another case when it happened. He's not officially investigating, but we were both concerned when your father didn't show up like he promised, so thought we'd check on him.”

Hunter nodded. “You've every reason to be concerned. If Dad said he'd be there, he would have been. I brought him home from the hospital, and that's all he talked about. Once all the excitement was over and everyone was okay, he thought it all a great adventure. He was excited about working with the sketch artist to find the guy responsible.” Hunter walked toward the house, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. “I tried calling his cell all the way over here. He rarely doesn't answer. And usually calls me right back if I do get his voice mail.” He opened the front door. Cold air rushed out at them. “Dad?”

Jordan had a bad feeling growing in his gut. Why was the house so cold? It was the middle of December. Everyone had the heat on. Especially with the temps dropping into the low teens at night. He placed a hand on the man's arm. “Do you mind waiting here and letting us check it out?”

“Yes, I mind.” He stepped inside. “Dad?” He looked at them. “Why is it so cold in here?” He gave a shudder. “He didn't say anything about the heat pump giving him trouble. Dad?”

“Sir,” Katie said. “If we find something, this could be a crime scene. We need to keep it as undisturbed as possible. Wait here.”

Her words were an order. Hunter flinched, but stopped in his tracks. “Crime scene? You think—”

“I don't think anything,” Katie said with a more gentle tone. “I just want to cover all my bases. For your father's sake.”

Hunter swallowed hard and Jordan could tell the man wanted to go tearing through the house. He didn't blame him. If it were his father, he'd feel the same way. But Hunter stood still and clenched a fist. “He could be lying hurt or sick. Hurry. Please.”

* * *

Katie stepped lightly, wishing for crime scene booties. Bobby Young might not even be here, but her gut cried out that he was and it wasn't going to be good. She stepped into the den and noticed the wide-open French doors that led to the back deck. Cold air blew in.

“Jordan.”

“Kitchen's clear.” He came up beside her. Spotted the doors. “Uh-oh.”

“Mr. Young?” Katie called. They cleared the first floor, then headed for the second. “Bedroom one, clear,” she called.

“Bedroom two, clear,” Jordan echoed.

Katie stepped into the next room and came to a halt. Even through her heavy down coat, she felt the cold in the house to her bones.

This was his office. The desk faced the window, looking out to the wooded area behind the house. Katie stepped closer and walked around for a view of the chair.

Katie sucked in a deep breath and dropped her chin to her chest in despair. “Jordan!”