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  Quinn glanced at his watch. “Going on thirty-six hours.”

  “Get some rest. We’ll take it from here and hope Chloe wakes up soon.”

  Quinn exited the room, and Riley leaned forward. “The Jordans might have been survivalists, but there’s one other option as to why they were living this way. If someone in the family witnessed a crime, they could be living under the Federal Witness Protection Program.”

  “WITSEC.” Thayne let out a soft whistle. “That would explain a lot.”

  A loud knock sounded on the glass. Riley jumped when Greg Decker entered the room. Uninvited.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  If discovering the truth about the Jordans and helping Dan Peterson gave Thayne a reason to stay sheriff, Greg Decker represented every justification for reupping into the Navy and rejoining his SEAL team.

  At their first meeting, Decker had oozed smooth-talking company man ready to bail his boys out of trouble no matter what they’d done. If Clive hadn’t revealed his money troubles, Thayne would’ve handled the entire situation in a very different way. However, when Decker hadn’t backed Earnhardt and had let the boys go to jail for the night, the man had earned a portion of Thayne’s respect.

  Banging on the glass and barging in like he owned the place didn’t earn Decker any prizes. For now, the jury teetered on Decker’s worth, but Thayne rarely reversed himself about a man’s character.

  “You’re early, Decker,” Thayne said, his voice curt.

  “Time is money. I was hoping I could get my boys out of jail.”

  “I’m in a conference right now. There’s a chair at Deputy Ironcloud’s desk. I suggest you wait there until we’re finished.”

  Decker glanced at his watch. “They’re already late for their shift. I’m out of time.”

  Thayne stood and closed the door in the man’s face.

  Riley smiled at him. “I like your style, Sheriff Blackwood.”

  “I thought he might be okay, but he reeks of big-city entitlement. The guy deserves to wait all day, but I don’t want to leave him alone out there too long.” He paused for a moment. “Now back to the WITSEC theory. You have any contacts at the marshal’s office?”

  “I have a friend in DC.”

  “Call them. I want to know what we’re dealing with.” He hitched his hip on the table. “What’s your plan?”

  “Check on Chloe again and, if she hasn’t improved, return to the house and start my process. I need to look around some more with direct light. Take more photos.”

  “Sounds good. If you call Cheyenne for an update, I’ll take care of Decker, and then we can head out.”

  Riley was already digging into the boxes Quinn had left as Thayne walked out the door. Decker had made himself at home all right, standing just outside the steel doorway leading to the jail cells. He peered inside.

  Shoving past the visitor, Thayne grabbed the key and opened the door. “Sit down and I’ll process these guys,” he said.

  One by one, he filled out the release paperwork, unlocked the appropriate cell, and handed the signed copy to Alicia for filing. To a man, each walked out muttering an apology and avoiding his gaze. They deserved to be embarrassed. Thayne had enjoyed his share of drinks when he was younger, but losing control—that was something entirely different.

  When he picked up the final form, Thayne paused before signing it. Earnhardt.

  He walked over to the cell and faced the man through the bars. The guy stood, arms crossed, stance challenging. He hadn’t learned a damn thing. “You seriously giving me attitude after last night, Earnhardt? Did you learn nothing?”

  “Oh, I learned that Singing River is full of a bunch of holier-than-thou know-it-alls.”

  Thayne leaned back and crossed one booted leg in front of the other and rattled the keys in front of him. “Exactly what’s your IQ? You do realize I’m the one who can let you out or keep you here another day.”

  Earnhardt sucked up a ball of spit and let it fly at Thayne’s feet. “My boss paid you off. You don’t have a choice.”

  “And the fine just doubled. You want to try for triple?” Thayne asked with a smile.

  Decker let out a loud curse behind Thayne. “Earnhardt, you trying to get fired?”

  The worker grumbled under his breath but didn’t directly challenge his boss. Because of one stupid act, Thayne could’ve kept Earnhardt another night, but Clive needed the money, and, personally, Thayne didn’t need the headache. He opened the cell, handed Earnhardt his release paperwork, and turned to Decker. “This is the only free pass you get. Any of your crew show up at Clive’s again and do so much as spit on the wrong side of the law, I’ll parade them before Judge Gibson so fast they’ll be shocked how quickly they earn a month in jail. He doesn’t take kindly to lawbreakers, especially stupid, drunk ones.”

  Decker’s jaw tightened when Earnhardt walked past him. “Go stand with the others.” At that moment, his ringtone sounded. He glanced at the screen and flushed red. “You won’t have any trouble from my men. That I’ll guarantee.”

  He stalked over to his four employees. “I’ve avoided my boss’s calls four times coming to pick up you yahoos. That makes me unhappy. I suggest the rest of this week go very well. You get my meaning?”

  Decker whirled to the exit and led them out, but Earnhardt paused. He glared at Thayne, eyes full of hatred. Blaming him for his week without pay, no doubt, before he joined his crewmates outside.

  The front door closed, and Alicia gave a noticeable shiver. “I don’t like all the strangers in town these days.”

  Thayne sent her a sympathetic smile. “I doubt we’ll have any more to do with Decker or his men. I’m pretty certain the word’ll get out.” He walked back to the holding area where the two Riverton ranch hands waited. “You boys ready to go home?”

  Not saying a single word, they nodded, heads bowed.

  He released them. “Now get out of here before I decide to call your boss—who also happens to be my brother-in-law. And next time go light on the booze.”

  The men practically fell over themselves running out of the sheriff’s office. Their trucks were still at Clive’s. He’d let them figure out how to collect them.

  He pushed into the conference room to stacks of color-coded documents. Riley stood over the piles, her brow furrowed in concentration and the corners of her mouth turned down.

  “You make any headway?” From her expression he knew the answer.

  She plopped into a chair. “Quinn was right. There’s nothing here. I copied the autopsy photos and a few others, but I have more questions than answers. There wasn’t much left, except the matching plain bands on their left ring fingers. So sad.” She leaned forward with a sigh. “There’s a bit of good news. Chloe is breathing on her own now, but she’s still unconscious. Cheyenne’s worried, though. She’d expected her to wake up by now.”

  “We’re starting from scratch then, aren’t we?”

  “We have no choice.”

  For a moment Thayne considered that in some ways the question had as much to do with their relationship as the investigation.

  Riley repacked the boxes and filed away copies of the photos that had interested her, then grabbed her bag before they headed to his SUV.

  Once he drove out of town, she pulled out a notebook. “I don’t even have house plans. Aaron built the place himself and never filed anything with the county.”

  Thayne glanced over at her. “You ever had this little to go on?”

  “Usually the victims are more defined. The more I know about them, the more I can intuit about the suspect.”

  Riley focused her attention on the papers in her lap.

  “So you’re in new territory?”

  She nodded. “When Tom calls me in, it’s because they’re stuck on motive or they’ve come up against a brick wall on suspects, but the premise is the same. If we can figure out why Kim called me, I believe we’ll have the killer in sight.”

  The vehicle wound through the ro
lling hills and grass. It had taken only a few days to shatter the peaceful illusion of Singing River. He wanted it back, not just for himself, but for the people he loved.

  “They’re really hidden out here,” Riley said. “I’m surprised the fire was visible.”

  “It wasn’t. At least not from town. Seeing it was a complete fluke. Their nearest neighbor is ten miles out of line of sight.”

  Thayne veered along the final bend leading to the Jordans’ and parked his vehicle. The embers no longer smoked, and the charred remains made for a sad scene. Two lives’ work undone in a few hours.

  Riley scribbled a few notes in a red notebook, her expression thoughtful. “There’s another possibility we haven’t discussed. What if the Jordans did this on purpose? It doesn’t explain the disconnect concerning which side of the bed they were discovered on, but it might explain Chloe. Perhaps they wanted her to survive. Or perhaps she was able to save herself.”

  “Hopefully she’ll wake up soon and we can ask her.”

  “Until then, we need to know more about the Jordans.”

  They exited the vehicle. A gust fluttered the pages from Riley’s notebook as well as her sketchbook. The crime scene tape flapped in the stiff wind.

  “Where do you want to start?” Thayne asked.

  “The main house.” She passed him her books. “Could you hold these for me? I want to get a feel for the place.”

  Thayne stood back. Her work methods fascinated him. Photos, sketches, and scene walk-throughs. He’d watched her immerse herself so deeply her entire body shook in reaction. Was it wrong to hope this time would be different? He wanted answers, but not at her expense.

  Slowly Riley stepped into the Jordans’ bedroom. She breathed in and out and sank to her knees. Her eyes went glassy.

  “Why cover themselves with a blanket if they did it to themselves? The quilt burned to their bodies. If you were trying to kill someone, the cotton quilt makes a perfect conduit for the fire. There’s no sign of a struggle, of pushing the bedding aside. They weren’t bound. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Thayne didn’t bother answering. When Riley was ready, they’d talk about her conjecture.

  She wandered into the living area where they’d discovered the panic room. “They built this to hide. And survive, but Chloe didn’t barricade herself before the fire started. Otherwise her clothes wouldn’t have smelled of smoke.”

  Riley blinked and faced Thayne, addressing him for the first time. “I don’t believe the fire was a suicide. It doesn’t fit. As for it being an accident, I don’t think so. If they’d fallen asleep, the fire would have wakened them, even if they couldn’t make it out of the house. Why would they lie there burning to death without some effort to get away from the flames?”

  He knew from her expression she was asking a question of him this time. “Smoke inhalation?”

  “The fire started at the bedside. I don’t buy it.”

  Thayne couldn’t argue with her logic. “Not an accident. Not a suicide.”

  “All that’s left is murder. But why?” Riley moved away from the house toward the charred outline of the barn. “Quinn didn’t take as many photos of this building,” she said.

  “Because the fire leapt from building to building.”

  Riley cocked her head. “I care about the fire, but right now I care more about understanding our victims. If you’re hiding, would you keep something from your past?”

  “I probably shouldn’t, but I’d want photos of Pops and Gram, of Mom and Dad.”

  “Me too. I’d take a picture of Madison, even if I had to hide it away.” She glanced back at the house. “Quinn didn’t find anything in the panic room except survival gear and MREs. If they’d kept something of their prior lives, it could’ve burned up.”

  Thayne entered the area where the barn door had been. “Aaron built a panic room. He didn’t trust banks, but he obviously believed in hiding his valuables. Maybe he has a safe.”

  “Good thought.” Riley’s smile glinted in her eyes. “I’ll search the panic room for a hidden safe.”

  “I’ll take the barn.” Thayne watched Riley head down the stairs to the metal room below the floor. He’d definitely learned one thing from her today. Focusing on the people, instead of focusing strictly on the crime, broadened the investigation.

  His gaze swept the barn. The walls had collapsed. If anything had been hidden in the walls or loft, it had burned beyond recognition. He grabbed a stick. Starting in one corner, he tapped the floor, moving methodically through the destroyed building. Three-fourths of the way through, he’d found nothing when his gaze landed on a slight indentation in the dirt floor. He knelt down and snapped on a pair of gloves. He could feel that the ground surrounding the indentation was firm and packed. Someone had been digging recently. “Riley! I found something.”

  Within a few moments she’d raced over and crouched beside him. They studied the shifted dirt.

  “Someone’s disturbed this area recently,” Thayne said.

  “Good catch.”

  Thayne shrugged. “I spent a lot of years hunting in these woods, and a decade staying alive. You learn quick to read the ground.”

  Riley snapped several photos before Thayne brushed away the dirt. Less than six inches beneath the surface, he encountered something solid.

  “Something’s definitely here,” he said and worked the earth back until he felt metal edges. He reached into the hole and pulled out a steel lockbox.

  He looked at Riley. “Bingo.”

  She suddenly pressed a hard, excited kiss to his cheek. “God, I love you.”

  After being caught once, he wasn’t taking any chances. The mud and dirt in the ditch made for an unpleasant lookout. His pants and shoes were caked with mud, his jacket ruined. The camouflage net concealed his identity and binoculars. He wasn’t worried. The sheriff and his lover hadn’t glanced his way once. They were too involved with their find.

  Damn it. His entire plan had unraveled. None of this should’ve happened. So he’d have to make up for a single oversight. Well, maybe three: Chloe’s presence, Kim’s phone call to the FBI woman, and the old man.

  Chloe he could take care of easily enough. The doctor was worried. If she died, no one would question it.

  The old man hadn’t been any trouble. He’d die of exposure soon enough.

  Former FBI special agent Riley Lambert was something else entirely. He’d done his homework on her. She was impressive. How could he have known she’d be holed up in a place like Singing River? He’d learned several details about her, but the most important was that she wouldn’t be easy to dissuade. Damn her. He should’ve been home free by now. Taking his pound of flesh as payment for their sins should’ve been done, with no one being the wiser.

  He took a few calming breaths. The agent was intelligent, and determined, but not as much as he. He’d find a way to stop her. He’d come too far. Failure was not an option.

  The SUV hit a pothole and Riley bounced, her head nearly hitting the roof of the vehicle. The distance between the Jordan property and the sheriff’s office had never seemed so long. Still wearing gloves, she clutched the metal box in her lap. Unwilling to take a chance they’d missed any other evidence, they’d completed their search of the barn. If this box didn’t give them some clue, Riley couldn’t fathom where a break in the case would come from.

  She chanced a look at Thayne. His back held too much tension; the muscle at the base of his jaw throbbed.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “We found our first real lead.”

  He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I know. It just occurred to me that our relationship seems to work best when we’re in the midst of a murder investigation.”

  Ouch.

  She touched his thigh, and the muscle beneath her fingers tensed. “Once this case is over, can’t we talk this out? I don’t want to lose you.”

  He placed his hand over hers. “I don’t want to lose you, either, but I have to ask
myself if what we feel is desire based on a heavy dose of adrenaline. I even considered if we should go back to the long-distance weekly phone calls. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to screw that up.” He glanced over at her. “Is that what you want?”

  She sagged back against the seat. “You’re saying what we feel for each other isn’t real?”

  “I’m saying I don’t know anymore. I would never have thought you’d think about leaving, either. But you are.”

  “You’re my best friend, too. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “What about your fiancé? Your lover?” He moved her hand off his thigh and to the seat.

  Riley looked away. She wanted to promise. She wanted to believe she could be happy here, but she had the terrifying belief that the restless urge inside her would return.

  “I don’t know what to think,” she finally admitted. She glanced down at the metal box. “I’d burned myself out. I wanted—no, I needed—to quit, but now . . . I’m confused. I miss my job. I’m good at what I do, but more than that, I need to feel like there’s somewhere I belong, where I can help people with a skill that most would never need.” She let out a low chuckle. “Who in their right mind would want to spend most of their days digging into the minds of people who, for one reason or another, live to harm others? I must be crazy.”

  “You think I don’t know how special you are, Riley? You have a gift, and you never give up. You give families hope. I’d never ask you to change, but for me—at least for now—my life has to be here in Singing River. Gram’s getting worse. Dad’s heart will weaken over time. Hudson has to keep the ranch running, Cheyenne has her practice, and Jackson’s firefighting forces him to travel. I’m needed.” He parked his SUV in front of the sheriff’s office, turned off the engine, and faced her. “When you agreed to marry me, you’d already resigned from the FBI. You’ve changed your mind about that decision. We both know it.”

  She grabbed his hand. “I want to figure out how to make this work. I do love you.”

  He cupped her cheek and swept his thumb across her skin. A gentle smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t doubt that, and I’m not going anywhere,” he said.