Pursuit of Justice (27 page)

Chapter 52

Brandt skimmed a stone across the creek and watched the ripples spread farther and farther. Effortlessly. Like this last hurdle of obtaining the treasure and joining Rachel so the two could spend the rest of their lives together. Brandt needed to grease up Aros’s pace so the digging could begin. The weasel thought he had the edge with the mineral rights and Sullivan’s will. But Brandt knew the exact location at the butte, and he had Shep Wither’s map. Stupid old man, as if Brandt ever had any intentions of handing over a cent of the gold to anyone.

However, keeping one step ahead of the FBI had begun to wear on him. His left knee burned when he walked, and the surgery couldn’t be postponed much longer. If he could trust Aros, he’d slip down to Mexico City for a while and have it taken care of. But that was impossible.

The estate in Brazil had cost over two million dollars, but it was ready for Bella. She’d be so pleased. Ten thousand square feet of luxury—everything she’d ever want. They’d be happy there.

Brandt’s cell phone rang. The caller was unknown.

“We’ve got problems.”

Brandt recognized the voice. “Give it to me.”

“Aros’s fingerprints have been traced to MacGregor. Bella and Frank are on their way to arrest him. Abilene police are assisting.”

“Have you called him?”

“Yes. He’s left the office and is on his way to the hotel.”

“He’ll name all of us. You’d better get to him first.”

“I’ve been on the road since I saw the fingerprint check. I’m on it.”

Brandt refused to let this go south, not when he’d staked the last two decades of his life on it. “Call me when you’re done. We need insurance.”

“Which one of them?”

“Anne. Just keep an eye on her.”

“What about Mair?”

“I’ll handle her.”

Chapter 53

By the time Bella and Frank arrived at Aros’s office on the south side of Abilene, police and SWAT had staked out a perimeter around the building. The law enforcement officers waited for a signal from her and Frank to enter the premises. MacGregor had not been involved with anything illegal prior to his association with Brandt, which meant no one knew how he’d react to an arrest.

“You’re still the lead in this investigation,” Frank said.

“Don’t think so. Go for it.”

“Sorry. You worked him. You charge him.”

Being near the end did have a lot of satisfaction. “We need him alive,” she said as the two stepped from opposite sides of the car.

They made their way with several members of the police force inside the black-glass building and up to the third floor housing Aros Kemptor’s law firm. She expected a locked door, but Frank had his own method of opening inaccessible areas. A barren office greeted them. Nothing but furniture. Even an empty trash can.

“Let’s check with the security guard in the parking garage.” Disappointment diminished her expectations to conclude the investigation. “And I want a sweep of this office. Someone notified Aros within minutes of the fingerprint confirmation for Howard MacGregor.

“Only a handful of people knew about this,” she said to Frank.

“That should narrow it down—Roano, the four or so deputies inside the sheriff’s office, Carr, you, and me.”

She studied Frank. In the heat, his sunglasses had slipped down his nose. “You forgot Kent Matthews. No man is ever beyond being seduced by money.”

“I’ll call for a report on him.”

“Make it fast.” The thought of Kent’s possible involvement would upset a lot of people in the community.

* * *

Patience was not one of Carr’s finest traits. He’d paced his library, the kitchen, the back porch, and now the stables. How long did it take to arrest a man? Over four hours had passed since Bella had left Ballinger. His head rang with all the possibilities of what could be happening, interrupted by flashes of
Why aren’t you trusting God?
Bella had taken the lead on this investigation for two reasons: her abilities as an FBI agent and her familiarity with the case. She had Frank with her and Abilene’s police force. This was candy. Then why was he twisted in apprehension?

Bella hadn’t called, and the news sites carrying the latest happenings in Abilene were void of any FBI arrests. Twice he’d fished his cell phone from his pants pocket to call or text her, but he could be putting her in danger.

“You doing all right?” Wesley leaned against the side of the stable door, his lanky frame blocking the sun streaming through.

“Hardly. Wish someone would call.”

“Roano is as antsy as you are.” He made his way toward Carr, his boots tapping on the concrete. “I’m as shocked as everyone else. Aros Kemptor spilled a lot of money into this community.”

“Looks like he had reasons.” Now Carr understood why Aros had attempted to deter him from probing into the Spider Rock treasure and manipulate him into giving up mineral rights. And then there was the matter of his will. “My hope is he spills his guts about Richardson.”

“If he doesn’t, he could be charged with four counts of murder—and that’s just for starters. He nearly killed Bella and shot you. So many times today I wanted to be out looking for him, but I understand my responsibilities.”

Carr briefly recalled all that had happened since the Monday afternoon he and Jasper found the dead bodies. “I appreciate you, Wesley. Darren was proud of all your accomplishments.”

The young deputy smiled. “All our lives have been on hold while we wait for this to end.”

“Yeah. Soon. Maybe right now.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot what I came out here for. Lydia got back with groceries and wonders what you want for dinner tonight.”

His appetite had left him early this morning. “I’ll help her put things away. Gives me something to do.”

“All right. I have a phone call to make, and then I’ll be right there.”

Carr made his way across the yard to the back porch and inside the house. Wesley must have already carried the groceries inside. At least Carr could help her while they all waited to hear from Bella.

Lydia had already separated pantry items from the food that would be stored in the refrigerator and freezer. If he could only be as organized. “Point me in the right direction,” he said as lightly as possible.

She glanced up, pale. Sometimes he forgot she’d been threatened and how that must be constantly on her mind. “Pantry items. The shelves are labeled. Have you heard from Bella?”

“Not yet.”

“Hopefully soon. Do you have any requests for dinner?”

“I don’t think either of us is hungry.” He gathered up a handful of items and carried them into the walk-in pantry that was more like the size of a small bedroom. He sorted through her dry goods and noted a large box of specialty chocolates. “Who’s the candy for?”

“Wesley loves Godiva,” Lydia said. “I make sure I have a stash for him. Poor guy. Having to stand over an old woman all day has to be boring. The least I can do is supply his favorite chocolate.”

Chill bumps raced up Carr’s arms.
The candy wrapper found at the beginning of the investigation that had Darren’s fingerprints on it.
The same brand. Surely not. Paranoia had attacked his logic. This was a coincidence and nothing more. Darren could have seen Wesley’s interest in the chocolate and had one himself. He’d ask Wesley about it later.

“Where was Wesley earlier? I saw one of the other deputies when I came back from Ballinger.” Carr stepped out of the pantry, his thoughts racing.

Lydia opened the refrigerator and placed carrots and parsnips inside the vegetable crisper. “Said he needed to purchase an engagement ring for his girlfriend. Guess he works during the store’s normal working hours.”

“I’ll have to congratulate him.”

“Oh, he asked me to keep the information to myself until her family has an opportunity to make the announcement.”

Less than a month ago, Darren said Wesley complained about the lack of girls around Ballinger. Carr swallowed his fears. What a joke. Darren’s nephew involved with something illegal? No way. Wesley was rock solid. Had been for a long time.

“Sure glad that nephew of mine changed his outlook on life,”
Darren had said.

Carr recalled Darren telling him about Wesley’s habits prior to Carr’s move to the High Butte.
“Underage and always in trouble. Once that boy hit the age of fourteen, he didn’t have a lick of sense.”
According to Darren, the local police couldn’t prove Wesley had been involved in a convenience store robbery, but they strongly suspected him. Drinking became a problem as well as fighting. That’s when Darren stepped in and helped Wesley make some changes.

Taking a deep breath, Carr remembered his own failings. God had picked him up, dusted him off, and sent him on his way with a new purpose. Much like Darren had done for Wesley. But as much as Carr tried to shove away the nagging thoughts about Wesley, the thoughts persisted.

Darren trusted Wesley. Loved him like his own son.

Wesley had access to all of the task force’s communications.

Where was Wesley when Bella’s tires were shot out?

Where was Wesley when Bella and he were shot?

Where was Wesley when the rattler was placed in the hotel room?

Where was Wesley when Darren was poisoned?

Who could have stolen Carr’s rifle and then later returned it?

Wesley had been present at Zack’s baseball game. Had even called his replacement for Lydia because he had a hunch about Richardson attending the game.

And where was Wesley earlier today?

The morning of his death, Darren was concerned about something regarding the case, and he hoped he was wrong. Later he told Carr that “it” was worse than he expected.

Or was Carr nuts? He didn’t have anyone to call about his qualms except Roano. And knowing him, he’d toss Carr’s concerns. He finished putting the pantry items away and waited. If Aros or MacGregor—whatever his name was—had been picked up and Wesley was implicated, it would be only a matter of time before Bella and Frank made their way to the High Butte for another arrest.

In the meantime, Carr would write down his every thought and lock it in his safe.

Chapter 54

Bella and Frank drank double espressos while they tossed back and forth where Howard MacGregor could have gone. He hadn’t booked a flight out of Abilene, Austin, or Houston. For certain an informant had warned him about the FBI, which meant he’d left by car. Except the authorities hadn’t been able to locate it.

Most likely Brandt had arranged for his death. The race sped on as to who would get to MacGregor first.

“I need to call Carr,” she said.

Frank lifted a brow.

“You already phoned Roano. This is a courtesy call.”

“Right.” Frank’s surly attitude was about to rub off on her.

“Swartzer is doing all he can, and the Abilene police are chasing down a few clues.”

“Right. So call Carr.”

She didn’t want to discuss their personal relationship right now. But Carr did have a right to an update. He answered on the first ring.

“You have MacGregor in custody?” Carr said.

“Nope. He’s gone. We’re following up on a few things now.” Not exactly. They were sitting in a Starbucks—regrouping.

“Are you headed this way?”

“I know you’re anxious, but we can’t leave without some answers.”

“This is different. I have a few . . . suspicions or conclusions to discuss with you and Frank.”

Her pulse sped into air travel. “What’s happened?”

“Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot.”

“Are you in danger?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Wesley’s there.”

“Uh-huh.”

She relaxed. “If you think this is serious, we’ll wrap this up and drive your way.”

He blew out a long breath. “If what I’m thinking is a false alarm, I’m going to feel stupid. MacGregor is the real thing. This is . . . speculation.”

Bella noted Frank was following the conversation the best he could. Then his phone rang. “It’s Abilene PD,” he said. “They’ve located MacGregor’s car outside a hotel.”

“Carr, I gotta run. Talk to you later.” She ended the call and snatched up her shoulder bag.

Fifteen minutes later, Bella and Frank approached a hotel door where Howard MacGregor was supposed to be. This time the hotel manager had given them a key. “Howard MacGregor, this is the FBI. You are under arrest. Open the door,” Bella said.

When he didn’t respond, she handed Frank the key. Weapons ready, he opened the door and swung it wide.

The room reeked of vomit. MacGregor lay facedown on the bed, his face in a puddle of his own excretion. The memory of how Darren had died crept across her mind.

Frank felt the man’s neck for a pulse. “He’s dead.”

“A wild guess here says it’s thanatoxin.” She studied the room and the bathroom. A half glass of water was by the sink. “It may be in that,” she pointed.

Another body.

Number six.

* * *

Carr took a chance. What did he have to lose? Bella and Frank were driving back from Abilene and would be at the High Butte by early evening. The man he’d known as Aros Kemptor was dead. Wesley sat on the back porch reading yesterday’s paper from Abilene—at least that was his normal habit. Time to mosey on down from the library and be friendly-like, as the locals said. He put the landline on Do Not Disturb since Lydia had opted for a nap—her usual way of handling stress—and Jasper was riding fence, which was where Carr should be.

Turning his cell phone ringer off, he snatched up a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses on his way through the kitchen and stepped onto the back porch.

“Are you as bored as I am?” Carr set the pitcher and glasses on the table.

Wesley let the newspaper rest on his lap and rubbed his eyes. “By this time of the afternoon, I’m ready to call it quits. And day-old news doesn’t cut it.”

Carr poured them a glass of lemonade. “This is the strongest I can offer.”

“No problem. I’ll have a cold beer when my shift’s over.” He wrapped his fingers around the glass. “Sure is a shame about Aros.”

“I liked the guy. Never had a clue he was working with Brandt Richardson.”

“You don’t think he was working alone?”

Carr kept his gaze focused on Wesley and sat down across from him. “Not at all. Neither does the FBI. Heard Aros made some accusations before he died.”

“What did he say?”

“According to Bella, he named who else was working with him.”

Wesley took a long drink. “I wonder who.”

“Beats me, but they’re finishing up in Abilene and then on their way here.” Carr
hoped
they were on their way to the High Butte.

“Too bad my shift is over early today. I’d like to hear about it.”

“Won’t Roano give you the information? But I can call if you like.”

“That would be good. Sometimes Roano is slow.”

Carr settled back into the chair and crossed his legs. He peered at Wesley’s feet. “Boy, you got some big feet going there.”

“Got those from my daddy. Size thirteen.”

Bella stated the boot print found near the candy wrapper was a size thirteen. “Are your folks living? Never heard you mention them.”

“Mom is. Dad died of a heart attack when I was eleven.”

“Is that when Darren took over?”

“Not until later.”

“Darren told me once you were spiraling down a twisted path for a while.”

“Oh yeah. Once my dad was out of the picture, I didn’t care what I did or who I hurt. Uncle Darren got me on the right road.”

“I’m glad. He has you and his sons as a part of his legacy.”

Wesley flinched, and Carr saw it. “At one time when Mom remarried, I was supposed to live with Darren and Tiffany, but she didn’t want me around her kids.”

“I’m sure she had good reasons. But look how well you’ve done.”

“Tell her that.”

“Sorry to hear there were problems.”

“Uncle Darren took her word for everything. Happened a long time ago, but it still fries my rear. She was afraid I’d get my hands on her family’s money.”

“Well, seems to me you proved her wrong.” Carr smiled and finished his lemonade. Once the two talked a few more minutes, he excused himself to place a call to Tiffany Adams.