Part 18 (2/2)
”What?”
”Calypso Pope's purse. Found by a teenager on the rocks near the falls. All her ID intact. Credit cards, too, or so it seems on first inspection. No cash. Anyway, he turned it in at the station. It's at the lab already and they're processing it, checking for trace evidence, fingerprints.”
”Needle in a haystack.”
”Maybe, but it's something.”
”Yeah.”
”Lars Bender, the kid who found it, claims there wasn't a dime in it,” Alvarez said. ”He's already asking about a reward.”
”Figures.” Pescoli cranked on the wheel and turned up the hill behind a tow truck with a crumpled midsized sedan on its bed. ”You never go wrong being disappointed in human nature.”
With his gaze on the GPS monitor, Ryder followed the woman he was certain was Anne-Marie Calderone. He drove a mile or two behind her outside of town, past a smattering of houses on the fringe of Grizzly Falls, and into the rolling hills of farmland. The road was getting chewed up from traffic, but the pastures that spread beyond the fences were still covered in a white, pristine mantle, sunlight bouncing off the icy crystals of snow so that he was forced to squint and finally find an old pair of sungla.s.ses he kept in the glove box.
Slipping on the polarized lenses, he kept driving, meeting a few other vehicles, checking his mileage and finally guessing where she was heading. Sure enough, he pa.s.sed a long driveway and saw from the small monitor's screen that she'd turned into the lane. No surprise the oversized mailbox had the name GRAYSON written across it.
Some things never change.
He told himself it didn't matter, but he couldn't help wondering why she'd decided to go to Cade Grayson. Was he the real reason she'd taken this winding path from Louisiana to Montana? The end piece of her game? Ryder drove past the place and turned around about a mile up the road. Then he waited, wondering what she was doing, thinking that after meeting with Grayson she might take off again.
He'd have some time, though. She hadn't packed up.
Yet.
He'd been watching, feeling every bit the voyeur as he'd sat in his dive of a motel room, sipping beer and staring at the monitor of one of his laptops, the one that had been hooked up as a receiver to the wireless transmitter he'd left on her property. The second one he used for research and communication.
He'd nearly collected enough evidence, and after today, it would be time to execute phase two of his plan.
His lips twisted a little at that thought.
Seeing Anne-Marie face-to-face for the first time in months would give him a small degree of satisfaction. But then telling her what he was going to do with her, that was going to be difficult because like it or not, he still felt a connection to her, that same old attraction that hadn't quite let go, despite everything.
She deserves what she's getting, he told himself. It's only right that it comes at my hand. This will all be over soon. He took heart that once the job was finished, he could forget about Anne-Marie Calderone forever.
Never in a million years would Cade have expected Anne-Marie to be standing on his doorstep, on the ranch in Montana. ”A long way from New Orleans,” he said, rubbing his chin and eyeing her from across the room. He'd offered her a seat in the living room that didn't get used much and was still filled with memorabilia and furniture from the days over a decade earlier when his mother had still been alive.
”I know. Cade, I'm sorry about your brother.”
She appeared sincere, but he didn't trust his instincts around her. They'd always been off a bit. She'd come to his home in a disguise, and he couldn't read her eyes as they'd been darkened with contact lenses. She was still wearing some kind of padding. Her body didn't fit her head now that she'd removed whatever it was that had changed the contour of her cheeks and the look of her teeth. That she'd shown up out of the blue with no word for years, her beauty intently played down, wasn't a good sign.
”I doubt you came all the way up here to give me your condolences.”
”No,” she admitted, clearly nervous. She glanced away for a second, and he wondered if she was concocting her story, trying to think of a way to make it plausible. ”That's not why I'm here.”
”You said it was life or death.”
”I think so, yes.” Though she was nodding as she balanced on the edge of the dusty couch, she didn't seem so sure of herself. It was as if she were suddenly second-guessing her arrival on his doorstep.
He decided that was just desserts. He owed her nothing.
”Look, Cade,” she said, one hand nervously plucking at a bit of fabric on the couch. ”Years ago, you said if I was ever in trouble . . . you know, with the law, that I could count on your brother, that . . . he would help.”
”You came up here to talk with Dan?”
”Yes,” she admitted weakly, ”and then, well, I heard that he'd pa.s.sed.”
”Killed,” Cade corrected. ”He was murdered in cold blood. A b.a.s.t.a.r.d he knew and trusted laid in wait and pulled the G.o.dd.a.m.n trigger. That's what happened.”
”I'm sorry.”
”So you said.” He closed his eyes for a second and tried like h.e.l.l to tamp down the rage that overtook him every time he thought of his brother's death. That the son of a b.i.t.c.h who'd taken Dan's life was still alive p.i.s.sed him off. Forcing his eyes open, he stared at her and asked, ”What is it?”
”I think,” she started as if unsure of herself, ”he's followed me here. I think he might be behind the attacks on the other women who were killed. I don't know, but . . .” She let out her breath slowly.
”Who?” he asked, but he felt it, that chill of premonition that warned him that bad news was coming his way.
”My husband,” she whispered softly. ”I think he followed me here.”
Chapter 17.
”Your husband?” Cade repeated, his expression guarded, suspicion visible in his eyes as Shad settled into a dog bed near the fireplace.
Too late, Jessica realized she'd made a big mistake in going there, in hoping he might be able to help her. But she was in too deep to backtrack. ”I've been hiding from him.”
”Here? In Grizzly Falls?”
”Yes. That's why I'm dressed like this.” She made a sweeping gesture to include her whole body. ”When I drove here, I didn't know about Dan, about what had happened to him. I was just desperate. You'd said once that if I were ever in serious trouble that your brother was someone I could trust, a fair officer of the law. And I thought, hoped, that I could explain to him what happened and . . . and that he would believe me and trust me and help me.”
”You think your husband is out to kill you?” Cade asked dubiously.
”I know he is,” she said, s.h.i.+vering inwardly. ”He tried once, thought he'd gotten rid of me, but I managed to survive. And now he has to make sure.”
He regarded her suspiciously. ”You have family.”
”Who have disowned me.”
”And why is that?”
She didn't answer. Didn't have to. They both knew why. ”Look, Cade, even if I contacted them and told them my story, they wouldn't believe me. Because . . . because . . .”
”Because you've cried wolf one too many times.”
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