Most Eligible Spy (5 page)

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“It’d be good for whoever is messing with you to see that you’re not alone.”

“Nobody is messing with me,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s all just random stuff. Bored teenagers.”

She was in denial through and through, about too many things. He wanted her to be careful, to be safe, but for that, she first had to admit that she was in danger.

So when they were inside and the grocery bags were sitting on the table, he reached for her and turned her to him before she could bustle away. His palms tingled on her bare skin. In addition to tingles in other places.

He let his hands fall. He seriously needed to get over whatever crazy attraction he felt for her. So he focused on the trouble she was in. “I’d appreciate it if you kept what I’m about to say between us. It’s part of our investigation.”

She stepped back from him but nodded.

“The same knife that was used to slash your tires was also used in a vicious gang murder. The people who are coming around here, they are the wrong kind of people, Molly.”

Chapter Three

“Almost done,” Molly said, patting Nelly’s flank as she finished up the evening milking. The smell of hay and fresh milk filled the barn, but her thoughts were only partially on what she was doing. They kept returning to Moses Mann, as they had all through the day.

He had told her she should stay away from the ranch at night for a while. Kenny had said the same thing.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” she told Nelly and the other cows.

But she wouldn’t put her son in danger just because she wasn’t good with change. So if things got worse... “I can do it if I have to.”

Nelly’s gaze was doubtful, but the other cows nodded in silent support as they chewed their cud.

The first step was to have the apartment released, then she would have an option, at least, whether or not she decided to take it. Grace could do it. She’d move anywhere in the blink of an eye. She’d traveled the world with the Army. If Grace could go someplace where people were shooting at her, Molly thought, then she could go to Hullett, for heaven’s sake.

She set the milk pails out of kicking distance from Nelly, her most ornery cow, then pulled out her phone and called the police station again. Margie May answered.

“It’s Molly. Is Shane in yet?”

“Just went out on another call.”

“I would really like access to my brother’s apartment. I need to know when I can come in to pick up the keys. Could you have him call me back?”

“Sure, hon.”

“That’s what you said before,” she said without accusation. Shane was avoiding her, and they both knew it.

A moment of silence passed between them. “Listen. I think, and I shouldn’t be telling you this...” Margie May paused. “Since Shane missed the whole thing that was going on with Dylan, he wants to score some points in the rest of the investigation. So he’s going through everything with a fine-tooth comb. All the reports, the apartment, your brother’s truck. It might be a while yet.”

“He is doing all that?” Relief washed over her. “Thanks.”

If Shane was giving the case his full attention, he would realize sooner or later that Dylan had been framed. She wanted that, first and foremost. Maybe an official announcement of Dylan’s innocence would get whoever was harassing her to quit. If people thought Dylan had drugs and Lord knew what else stashed around the ranch...

Mo’s ominous announcement about gang connections sent chills running down her spine every time she thought of it. The knife that had slashed her tires had been used in a murder. That was creepy and scary.

And it didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

The gang murder had happened in San Antonio, according to Mo. She barely knew anyone in the city, certainly no criminals.

She grabbed the milk pails, said good-night to the cows and closed up the barn. Then she glanced at the light in Logan’s window.

He’d already had his dinner and bath and was in bed, playing “Calvin Cat Counting” on his handheld player. The game taught kids math without them realizing they were learning. Logan loved the action; she loved the A’s he brought home.

Learning was a big thing in the house; she’d made sure of that. And so was eating healthy and running around outside in fresh air. She tried to make up for her son not having a father and was raising him to the best of her abilities.

She took the milk to the old farm kitchen at the back of the house where she processed everything she sold. A car came up the driveway as she reached the door. A police cruiser. Kenny. She stopped and waited for him.

The dogs ran to check him out then dashed back to her, not nearly as excited about the visitor as they usually were about Mo. As much as Mo annoyed her, her animals and Logan seemed to like him. Logan had asked if he could go on a ride in his fancy car with him. Probably just wanted to push the siren button.

Kenny waved at her then walked back to where she waited for him. “Thought I’d make sure everything is all right out here.”

“Pretty good so far.” Aside from Mo’s startling revelation, which she couldn’t talk about. “Are you bringing the horse this weekend?”

“Charlie. He’s a good one. In a couple of days.”

She walked into the processing room and he came in after her. The dogs stopped outside the door. They knew they weren’t allowed in there. She didn’t want dog hair in the milk she sold.

“Night shift?” she asked as she screened the milk through cheesecloth, making sure it didn’t have any stray pieces of hay.

He shook his head. “Just coming off shift. Long day. Had a couple of speed traps up today. Weekend comes and people start driving like they’re on a racetrack.”

“Hand out any tickets?”

He gave a smug smile. “Filled up the tiller.”

She tidied up. “I better close up for the night.”

He followed her out and took his time looking around the shed, but said nothing about the break-in, just shook his head. She was tempted to ask his advice on the gang angle, the words on her lips a couple of times, but each time she held back, as Mo had asked.

The chickens were in their coop already, had gone in on their own once it started getting dark. All her animals knew the schedule. All she had to do was bar the doors so no stray coyote could get in. “You think I should put up padlocks?”

He thought about that for a second or two before he nodded. “I have a few extras at home. I can bring those over when I bring Charlie.”

“Thanks.”

“So coffee was nice the other day,” Kenny said when they were finished. “How about we do it again? I would like to take you to dinner.”

A second passed before full comprehension came.
A date.

Wow. Okay.

She shifted from one foot to the other. It had been a while since she’d been asked out.

Kenny was...nice. She didn’t feel any sparks, but so what? Her grandmother had always told her love grew with time. It started with respect. And she did respect Kenny. He was here trying to help, while most people would rather gossip about her and her brother.

She didn’t want to offend him or alienate him. If she alienated any more people in her life, she’d have nobody left.

“Okay. Sure.”

A confident smile spread across his face, as if he’d fully expected that answer. And why wouldn’t he? He was a pretty good catch, young with a steady job and good looks, a good standing in the community.

“Tomorrow night?” he suggested.

“How about tomorrow afternoon? Maybe four-ish? Logan will be at the annual library treasure hunt from four to six.” She could drop her son off, then pick him up later, have dinner in between.

“I’ll come out to get you.”

“I’ll be in town anyway. Let’s meet at the restaurant.”

“I was thinking Gordie’s?”

Gordie’s served Tex-Mex cuisine, a nice place, but not so fancy that she would be uncomfortable. She nodded, trying not to think how fast they would set all the gossiping tongues wagging.

“Have a good night, then. See you tomorrow.” Kenny flashed her another smile before he walked back to his car.

She looked after him as his dust-covered police cruiser pulled down the driveway.

Skipper came to lick her hand.

“I’m dating again. Okay, one date, but still, how weird is that?” she asked her, but if the dog thought it was weird, she kept it to herself. She just gave a goofy, lolling grin.

“I’m dating the Pebble Creek sheriff,” Molly said experimentally. Yep, definitely sounded weird.

She went inside the house, letting the dogs in, picked up her yellow notepad from the windowsill where she’d left it earlier, and took it upstairs with her. She was working on a list of people she could ask for character references about Dylan, to submit to Shane. She wanted Shane to move the investigation in a new direction, help her figure out why and how her brother had been framed.

Maybe Kenny would help her.

She wished she was on speaking terms with Grace so she could call her friend and tell her all about that development. She hated the rift between them. But if she was against Dylan... No matter how good friends they’d been once, family came first.

At least Kenny was on her side.

As she got ready for bed, she tried to think of all the things she knew about him. He’d been one of the jocks back in high school, like her brother. Now he was a decent sheriff with a good record. He supported all kinds of fund-raisers, was behind the department getting new cruisers a few years back. His department in Pebble Creek wasn’t laying off like Shane’s here in Hullett.

She wondered what Logan would think of him.

But even as she thought about Kenny while falling asleep, her dreams were filled with Moses Mann. Oddly, in her dreams, he didn’t come to accuse or frame her. He came to protect her.

* * *

A
NOTHER
DAY
,
another interrogation room. This one, at the Hullett jail, was bigger than the one at the office trailer Mo’s team used, but the furnishings were older and pretty banged up. Obviously, the place had seen a lot of use over the years.

Mo rolled his shoulders. He missed Molly Rogers. How stupid was that? He looked across the desk at Mikey Metzner, owner of the Hullett Wire Mill, Dylan Rogers’s partner in crime in human trafficking. He was in his early thirties, a trust-fund yuppie who’d inherited his father’s business. Obviously, he hadn’t been satisfied with all that easy money. Maybe he was an adrenaline junkie.

He looked pretty confident still, after nearly a week behind bars, two fancy Dallas lawyers flanking him. He’d been questioned before and denied everything. He held the firm belief that his money was going to save him.

Mo was here to convince him of the error of his thinking.

“How long have you been in the smuggling business, Mr. Metzner?” He didn’t mince words. He wasn’t in the best of moods. He hated starting his Sunday morning by having to talk to jackasses like the one before him.

“You don’t have to answer that,” one of the lawyers said.

“I had no idea something so atrocious was going on at my mill. I’m as shocked as you are,” Metzner said straight-faced, wearing his best pious expression. “I can’t tell you how terrible I feel that somebody would use my mill for something so completely reprehensible.”

Give the man a golden statue,
Mo thought morosely as he leaned forward in his seat. “Your hired men are outdoing each other confessing, blaming everything on you, hoping for a plea bargain.”

Unfortunately, they had nothing valuable. The handful of underlings his team had caught only knew their own tasks.

He fixed Mikey with a flat look. “Who else was involved in running things on this side of the border beyond you and Dylan Rogers?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We have multiple, signed confessions from your goons, naming you the head of the operation in Hullett. Do you really want to take the rap for this?”

“I was head of nothing.” The man’s shoulders stiffened as he looked from one lawyer to the other, then back at Mo. “You can’t believe anything those people say. They are the ones responsible. I’ll testify against them.”

Mo shrugged. “We already have all we need for a conviction. We caught them red-handed.”

The bastard’s face paled. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “What do you want from me?”

“A name. Who is the third partner?”

One of the lawyers coughed.

Mikey straightened and started talking stiffly, as if repeating a prerecorded message. “I wasn’t involved in any smuggling. Whatever was going on in the basement at the mill, it had nothing to do with me. I’m a respectable businessman. I provide several hundred jobs in this community. The public is not going to be happy if those jobs disappear.”

Mo shrugged again. “Public patience is running out with all the dirty dealings on the border. Local elections are coming up. Results need to be demonstrated. Somebody is going to be made an example of. The higher up in the chain of command in the smuggling ring, the better. So far, you’re the highest we have.”

He ignored the lawyers and pinned Metzner with a hard look. “Multiple counts of kidnapping, moving persons across international borders, child exploitation, human trafficking.” He paused. “I could go on, but I’m in a hurry.”

He pushed his chair back and stood. “Better get used to the idea of a maximum sentence. I have two words for you, Mikey—federal prison.”

Metzner’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “There’s no way I’m going to prison. You can’t scare me. This is police intimidation. This is harassment.”

Mo held the man’s gaze. “You want harassment, wait till you’re behind bars. You’ve gone soft from office work, Mikey. Life in prison’s not gonna be pretty.”

The man stared at him, radiating hate. A few seconds of silence passed before he said, “Look, I was brought in because I had the mill and it has a lot of room. Nobody notices a couple of extra Mexicans coming and going. None of this was my idea.”

“Yeah, sure. Practically a victim,” Mo said dispassionately. He didn’t move toward the door, but neither did he sit back down. “Give me a name.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Give me a name.”

“Look.” His head snapped up. “I know Dylan was working with someone in town, but I don’t know who. My only contact was Dylan. I swear.”

Threatening him hadn’t worked before, and it didn’t look as if it would work now. He was too full of himself to truly believe he couldn’t beat the charges.

Which gave Mo an idea. Maybe playing on the man’s ego would work better.

“I understand. They didn’t trust you. They didn’t think you could handle it. They played you because they figured you weren’t smart enough to know that you were being played.”

“I’m plenty smart. Smarter than them.”

“How do you figure?”

“Dylan is dead and I’m alive,” he said, smug-faced.

“Yet you have nothing to give me to make your life easier.”

Metzner rubbed his fingertips together. “If you drop the charges...”

Mo watched him carefully. So there
was
something. “Not going to happen. You tell me what you have, and it’ll be taken into consideration at your sentencing.”