Part 24 (2/2)
Since there was more than a little truth in the question, Cait responded with a slight smile. ”The banking transactions were also looked into for Recinos and Livingston. Those investigations sounded like they stayed local, so we might have better luck there.”
Andrews grunted and seemed to come to a decision. ”Well, we'll start fresh tomorrow. Maybe those newest bones will tell you something.”
Cait hated to tell her that the set of remains they'd taken out of the hot springs were likely to yield the least amount of clues. ”I'll go back to Eugene tonight so I can check on their drying progress in the morning. Once they're in condition to be handled, we can at least get them put together and get height and maybe approximate age.” It would depend, in any case, on the condition of the bones and whether they were mostly all accounted for. ”I don't know if I told you before, but those remains were male.”
”So we've got five men and three women.” The sheriff looked bemused. ”I'd expect it to be the other way around.”
”Ostensibly if money is the motivation, it might be easier to find men with bank accounts flush enough to attract the UNSUB. Although you'd think women would be easier to s.n.a.t.c.h.”
”Some women.” Andrews patted her pockets as if searching for cigarettes. Cait gave silent thanks when she failed to find any. ”Others can surprise you.” When her look grew pointed, Cait went tense. ”Take you, for instance. You were well and truly p.i.s.sed this morning. Can't deny that.”
”You don't hear me trying to.”
The other woman gave a bark of laughter. ”I know what you're thinking. That Bentley being killed six years ago eliminates Sharper as a suspect because he was still in the Army then. But that still doesn't necessarily clear him. He could have started killing while home on leave at the same time.”
”Sure,” Cait agreed with mock politeness. ”There's nothing like a little R and R. Fly a few thousand miles home, kill a tourist or two, and then back to the Army for more fun and games. Problem with that is how would he find the tourist if he wasn't here? How would he have the time to track Bentley for five months and then be back here to kidnap him?”
”Way I hear it that was about the time his grandfather died.”
”That was seven years ago, not six.”
Undeterred, Andrews continued. ”I have to do a bit more digging into the exact dates. But if we're looking for two UNSUBs instead of one, he's still not off the hook.”
Cait eyed her knowingly. ”How'd you come out with him today?”
”He was an a.s.shole, if you must know. Practically invited me to haul him in and charge him. He knew d.a.m.n well I couldn't, so he threw me off his property. He's a real charmer, that one.”
Because her lips threatened to curve, Cait deliberately firmed them. ”That's surprising. Most people are more understanding about being suspected of multiple counts of theft, kidnapping, and homicide. Maybe it was the suspicion of money laundering that put him over the edge.”
”I'm not going to apologize for doing my job,” Andrews said bluntly. But she hesitated then, and her tentative manner instantly put Cait on alert. ”I didn't get to where I am by looks or personality.”
Even as Cait could feel herself heat, the other woman held up a hand as if to halt anything she'd say. ”Not saying you did, just saying that wasn't ever a possibility for me. So I worked harder. Thought harder. Proved myself twice as good as any man. And so if sometimes I'm . . . less than tactful . . . I guess that's why.”
It was, Cait realized with a sense of bemus.e.m.e.nt, as close to an apology as she was likely to receive. And because she could empathize with the woman's experiences to some degree, she felt herself thawing. ”Like I said this morning, we'll pursue all leads. See where they take us.” But she was as certain as she could be that they wouldn't be leading to Zach Sharper.
Andrews nodded and headed for the door. And Cait let her go, a realization bringing a pool of trepidation with it. Sharper had issued an invitation today. One he no doubt wanted to rescind by now. But she was going to his place, regardless.
She had a feeling that her welcome would make the one Andrews received from him look positively friendly by comparison.
When he ignored her knock, she walked right in. He'd left the door unlocked. Didn't think she'd have the b.a.l.l.s to come after Andrews had worked him over today. But if there was one thing Caitlin Fleming didn't lack, it was b.a.l.l.s. No doubt she collected them from the men she'd stomped on over the years.
He watched her come through the door and halt when she saw him in the recliner, regarding her over the top of his beer bottle. Thought he saw a jitter of nerves in her expression before she deliberately smoothed it. And that calm composed mask shot his temper from simmer straight to boil.
”Plans have changed.” He took a drink, lowered the bottle to give her an insolent stare. ”Turns out I'm not in a picnicking mood.”
”I think I can guess what kind of mood you're in.”
”Shouldn't be hard. Seeing as how you're the cause of it.”
Because he was watching, he saw the flash in her eyes. But her movements were loose and easy as she crossed the room to sit on the couch. ”You know better than that.”
”Do I?” The words burned, so he took another sip. The beer didn't appreciably dissipate the scorch in his throat. The betrayal in his chest. ”I knew what to expect with Andrews.”
”I couldn't warn you she was coming . . .”
”Don't recall asking you to. As a matter of fact, I don't recall asking you to do much of anything, although”-he raised the bottle in a mock salute-”there are a few things you've thought of on your own that I have to admire for sheer creativity.”
A slow flush crawled to her cheeks. And her face may still have been composed, but her eyes weren't. A vicious sense of satisfaction filled him at the sight.
”f.u.c.k you.”
”That you did. Up, down, and then . . . over.”
”How do you figure me for the bad guy in any of this?” She bounced off the couch, fists clenched at her sides. Dispa.s.sionately, he took a moment to note that she looked good with a mad on. There was a twist in his gut at the recognition. Of course she would. ”Because I asked some of the same questions of you a few days ago? This is a serial murder investigation. Was I supposed to intervene on your behalf with Andrews? Would it matter to you if I said I did? And she didn't give a s.h.i.+t.”
”I don't need your intervention.” He shoved up from his chair and crossed the room until he stood before her, his hand tightly gripping the throat of the bottle. ”I don't need a d.a.m.n thing from you. I can handle Andrews. h.e.l.l, I have been handling her all along with her half-baked accusations. But I gotta hand it to you, Slim, I wasn't expecting you to arm her with more ammo against me. Didn't see that one coming.” He made a gun with his fingers and put it between his eyes. Jerked his head back as if feeling a bullet. ”So yeah. Count me as another sap too dazzled by a pretty face and”-he raked her with a gaze deliberately insolent-”a killer body to see what was right in front of him.”
She pushed her face close to his. Looked for all the world as if she'd like to take a swing at him. ”You couldn't see what was right in front of you if it were written on the end of your nose. I've never seen a man so willfully stupid.”
”Stupid? Maybe I'm mistaken. Maybe I misheard Andrews when she said you'd looked into my military record. Used my training . . . my missions . . . and somehow twisted that to make me out to be someone with the skills to snap necks, I'm told.” He c.o.c.ked a brow, the fury pumping through him now, a scalding flood of heat. ”See, the sheriff isn't quite as close-mouthed as you are. But then I supposed confidentiality is off when you think you have the prime suspect in hand.”
Something in her seemed to ease. ”You're not the prime suspect.”
”No?” He c.o.c.ked his head. ”Sure seemed like it today. But after you'd fed her that info about my military record, I'll bet she was hard to hold back.” He stared at her for a moment, willing her to respond. Feeling like a kid with the strength of the longing. ”Or are you going to tell me she was able to dig into confidential military files on her own?”
”No.” Her gaze was steady. ”I pulled some strings. Or at least got my boss to.”
The admission hit him in the chest like a fast right jab. Suspecting it was one thing. Hearing it was quite another. ”Well, guess that was faster than sleeping with me and hoping I'd spill my guts after a good b.l.o.w. .j.o.b.”
He caught her wrist before her fist connected. No ladylike slap for her. He'd expect nothing less.
”I didn't ask for details of your missions. I didn't need the information.” She jerked away from him and he released her. It wasn't wise right now to be touching her. In any way.
”Right.” Like she'd put the brakes on getting too much info if she had an inside channel. Something raw and unchecked was prowling in his chest. He wasn't ashamed of anything he'd done for his country. But back in the States the parameters changed. From a safe civilian distance it was easy to misconstrue the nature of acts half a world away. Easy to pa.s.s judgment on the ones making those sort of split-second decisions that had ramifications for entire teams. The thought of Cait sharing those details with Andrews made him want to punch something.
”Believe whatever the h.e.l.l you want. And Andrews has had that information about your military record for days, so you're blind if you think that knowledge all of a sudden made her want to slap cuffs on you.”
He didn't believe her. Why should he? And what she was saying didn't make sense anyway. ”Something sure as h.e.l.l convinced her recently. She was ready to break out the interrogation tools.” He gave her a humorless smile. ”Pretty sure she would have enjoyed it.”
Her eyes were murderous. ”Believe me, I know the feeling. Your prints were on one of the bags, Sharper.” His face must have been as uncomprehending as he felt because she went on. ”From the cave? Your print came back as a match when they ran the elimination prints. That's what got Andrews hot on your trail. And the fact that I just told you that makes me an even bigger idiot than she accused me of being.”
Her movements rife with fury, she wheeled around and headed for the door. And even though her final words had his anger abruptly dwindling, he let her go.
Because he couldn't afford this welter of emotion cras.h.i.+ng and careening inside him. He was better off . . . far better off . . . when he hadn't cared about a blessed thing. Nothing outside his house. His business.
He was sure as h.e.l.l better off before he gave a d.a.m.n whether Caitlin Fleming had sold him out for a case.
<script>