Chapter Fourteen
An hour later Tess jerked awake, having briefly dozed off.
Mac was driving again. The snow had stopped falling. A thin, white blanket covered the entire area, and pale clouds hung heavy over the nearby hills. Mac’s conference call had been one-sided and unrevealing. The take-home message had been they hadn’t caught anyone, but no one else had been murdered. Yet.
They passed through Twin Falls. She’d seen signs for Crater of the Moon National Monument and Preserve.
As the miles sped by, a measure of foreboding stirred inside her that she couldn’t explain. Tess got out her cell phone to look at a map, but there was no signal. She found a printed map in the glove compartment and spread the paper awkwardly over her lap. She found the road, tracked their position with her finger. The compound itself wasn’t marked on the map but the town of Kodiak to the southwest was. Her pulse gave a little burst of acceleration. “We’re not far from the compound.”
Mac inclined his head, but didn’t comment.
“I’ve never been back.” She whirled to face him. “Have you?”
“Not since the days after the raid.” He tapped the side of his hand against the wheel to some internal beat.
She stared up at the darkening sky. It was only mid-afternoon, but seemed more like dusk. She shivered. She’d never wanted to return to this part of the world, but now she was so close the pull was magnetic. Something was drawing her. Some unanticipated compulsion. Or maybe it was the desire to lay her ghosts to rest. To know that that part of her life was well and truly history. “Can we go? Do we have time?”
There was an eight o’clock flight they were both hoping to catch, but Mac looked like he was debating with himself, too. Eventually he nodded and took the next right off the highway.
Much of the state was covered in desert, mountains, and forests, but this part of southern Idaho was fertile farmland. Wide open fields butted up to more hills and forest.
He took another turn and they were climbing, the shape of the hills familiar in the dim, distant memories of her childhood. She flashed to sitting in the back of the truck eating ice cream, chasing the melting drips with her tongue and giggling like a banshee as Ellie did the same.
God, she missed her sister.
She closed her eyes. If the police hadn’t shown up she would likely have endured the same fate as that beautiful soul. The idea of Walt or Eddie touching her made her want to gag. Instead she’d been rescued and raised with love and kindness by the sort of person her parents had feared and despised. A nice person. A wise person. A woman of color who saw the world in all its different shades.
Tess opened her eyes. “I always loved the landscape around here.”
Her breath misted the glass and she wiped her sleeve against the condensation. McKenzie turned up the heat again. She wanted to ask him if a visit to the compound had been on his agenda all along, but he’d hardly planned on her being at the prison, or that a winter storm would shut down the local airport.
“It’s pretty,” he conceded. “Not as pretty as Montana though.”
“That’s really where you’re from?” she said, surprised.
“Born and raised.” One side of his mouth tipped up and she spotted dimples she hadn’t known existed.
She ignored the effect his looks had on her heart rate and settled back to stare out the window. “You still have family there?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “My dad raised me, but that was more by accident than choice. My mom died of cancer when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She worried at a hangnail. She gave in to the desire to find out more about him. “You miss her?”
He nodded, but his expression closed down.
It wasn’t her business but there were no real rules as to their relationship. It was unchartered territory—or maybe she was kidding herself. Maybe she was legitimately a suspect and he understood the rules. It didn’t matter. The little sparks of attraction that kept flaring up were nothing compared to the history that doused it. She may as well just enjoy his company. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
But Cole might have… She pushed the thought out of her mind. He’d been with her when the DJ had been shot.
Could someone be trying to set him up? That seemed as unlikely as Cole pulling a trigger on another human being.
“I don’t miss Francis,” she said abruptly. She shuddered. “Eddie reminded me I have her eyes.”
Mac nodded again, confirming what she already knew.
You always were a worthless little bitch. I should have drowned you at birth.
Her birth mother’s last words rang out in her mind. No wonder Tess didn’t mourn her passing.
“If ever there was someone who shouldn’t have had kids it was Francis Hines. And to have five?” she said. “Insanity.”
“The Pioneers weren’t big on birth control as I recall,” Mac noted wryly. “Too busy trying to found their republic.”
Tess huddled deeper into her jacket. She hadn’t been able to get warm since Eddie had jammed his forearm across her throat.
“I don’t think I’m going to have any kids.”
He glanced at her. “Why not?”
“What if I turn out like my parents?”
“You won’t.”
“What if my kids turn out like them?” she pushed. However irrational it might sound, it was a genuine worry.
“Nature versus nurture, Tess. How’d your little brother turn out?”
Emotions tangled her in knots. “He’s a sweet kid.” But something was going on. And he still hadn’t called her back.
“There you go, then. For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a wonderful mom.” He sent her a smile, and those changeable eyes of his eased into a dirty blue.
“I never thanked you, not properly. For the work you did undercover.” She faced him, determined to get out what she needed to say. “Without you I’d either be dead, raped, or a white nationalist nutcase.”
“You were never like the rest of them.” He grinned and physical awareness danced over her body like a feather drifting over naked skin. That stupid crush of hers was alive and well and making a full come back. But he didn’t have to know about it. It didn’t mean anything. He was a good-looking guy and there was no reason not to admire the view. As long as she didn’t do anything stupid like trust those smiling eyes or those cute dimples.
She could feel him watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“I never felt like them,” she said. “I never fitted in with them. I’ve never fitted in anywhere.”
Mac nodded. “I know how that feels. You don’t have to make any big decisions yet, you know. You’re still young—”
She huffed out a laugh. “Thirty isn’t young.”
“Compared to thirty-nine it is,” he said dryly.
She snorted. “Thirty-nine isn’t old either. And I bet you fit in just fine with those other agents in the Bureau. In fact, I bet the female agents fall all over that easy charm of yours. I’m surprised you don’t already have a wife and a passel of kids—” She cut herself off and winced. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I forgot about your divorce.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Heather never wanted kids.”
“But you married her anyway?”
“Who said I wanted kids?” he asked in surprise.
“I remember you at nineteen. You hung out with the kids more than the adults.”
“The kids were nicer.”
They both grimaced.
He turned his attention back to the curves in the road. “Heather was all wrong for me. I don’t even know why I married her.” Then a hint of red hit his cheeks.
It was amazing a man his age could still blush.
“I guess you just remembered,” Tess said dryly.
“The sex was good,” he admitted. “No reason to wear a ball and chain though.”
“Especially if it feels like a ball and chain.” She wasn’t about to tell him she hadn’t had good sex in so long she could hardly remember what it was like. She didn’t want that to end up in some FBI report.
College, probably. With a boy she’d been in love with, but who’d gone off to follow his dreams when she’d been helping Trudy raise Cole. Her little brother had only been eleven and she’d refused to leave him. She’d gone to school in Georgetown to stay close.
She thought about her last boyfriend who’d ruined so many things in her life. “Relationships are overrated.”
“Sounds like I’m not the only one who’s been burned.”
She pulled a face. “Vibrators are a lot less hassle than men.”
His lips twitched. “Not as much fun, though.”
“Fun?” She huffed out a laugh.
He shot her a look. “Sex is supposed to be fun, right?”
“I’ve obviously been dating the wrong type of guy, but then I knew that.” Her own cheeks burned a little. While she couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, she could far too easily imagine having sex with Mac. She eyed the five o’clock shadow roughening up his cheeks, imagined it scraping her skin.
She’d just bet sex with him was fun, but it wouldn’t be worth the price she’d end up paying.
“What?” His voice deepened.
Catching his gaze, she realized he had one eye on the road and one eye on her lips.
“Nothing.” She knew this banter wasn’t real and wouldn’t lead anywhere and that made it safe. She was a pariah in law enforcement circles. Career kryptonite. She made a joke of it. “I can’t believe I’m discussing my sex life with a Fed. I didn’t think FBI agents even had sex.”
He started choking. “Are you kidding me? FBI agents are considered hot in law enforcement circles. Now DEA or ATF…those guys struggle with image.”
Her attention shifted to the scenery around them. And there, on the left, was the jagged peak that had loomed over her every day of her young life.
Her heart gave a terrified squeeze.
Mac had been keeping her engaged in conversation to distract her from this traumatic homecoming. She reached out and gripped his forearm, hoping he realized she was silently thanking him. Words were impossible.
He turned right again and she shifted in her seat as her old home came into view. The rusted barbwire fence had been replaced, but the shape of the fields was achingly familiar. Even the cows looked the same.
McKenzie pulled up on the side of the road, careful not to slide into the ditch. He left the engine running. A seven-bar gate barred entry to the old driveway.
They stared at the compound, each lost in their own thoughts. The signpost that used to stretch proudly across the top of two tall, wooden pillars had been painted over in dark gray, possibly to stop this site from becoming a mecca for white nationalists.
Three of the cottages had been demolished, as had some of the older outbuildings. The barn where Walt had tried to assault her still stood though. That barn signified both the good and the bad of her childhood.
Growing up on a farm, doing chores and taking care of the animals hadn’t been a bad thing. Having a sister whom she’d loved with every ounce of her being hadn’t hurt either. And whether she liked to admit it or not, Kenny Travers had also made life bearable.
But the beatings whenever she didn’t do exactly as she was told, the incessant chores, the lack of formal education, the lack of friends, the constant barrage of hatred and bile and force-fed propaganda as they tried to destroy her ability to think critically or develop her own opinion.
At the time, it had been all she’d known, but looking back?
A nightmare.
God, what had they been thinking?
Her parents’ ashes had been scattered somewhere over these fields as per their last will and testament, but there was no grave marker or tombstone to worship.
Were their spirits still here? Had they finally found peace?
Tess pushed out of her door and jumped down to the snow that rose to her knees.
“Tess,” McKenzie warned. “You can’t go in there.”
The cabin she’d grown up in was about two-hundred and fifty yards away down the winding, recently plowed driveway. She’d assumed the place would have fallen into ruin by now, but all the buildings were freshly painted and the main cabin had a new roof.
Someone had restored it.
Was someone living here?
That wasn’t possible. But who’d plowed the drive? And why?
Her heart thumped crazily under her ribs. She climbed the gate, ignoring the “No Trespassing” sign and Mac’s urgent shouts.
What was he going to do? Arrest her?
Needles of ice cold air took her breath and reminded her of all those frigid winters she’d spent right here on this hill. All the times she’d had to break the ice in the animals’ water troughs to allow them to drink.
On the driveway, the snow only came up to her ankles and she moved quickly toward the house, watching carefully for signs of life. A car door slammed behind her, Mac’s inventive cursing echoing through the valley.
The wind rattled the branches of the nearby cottonwoods and drew tears from her eyes. She walked onward, passing the spot where Harlan Trimble had lived, and where her sister had died. Her throat squeezed painfully.
The cabin drew her. It was single-story, deceptively small from the front, with five bedrooms—although hers and Ellie’s rooms had been no bigger than some people’s shoe closets—and a dining room. Her parents had wanted more kids, but Francis had suffered several miscarriages and two stillbirths before Bobby had arrived. Tess spotted the kitchen window where she’d often stood and watched the sun go down.
She stood quietly for a moment as the ghosts from her past whirled around her. This was where most of her family had died and though she might not have liked them very much, there was a bond between them, something invisible, unbreakable, unwanted. Blood.
She took a step onto the side porch that led to the kitchen.
Mac grabbed her arm. “Tess, you can’t walk into someone’s home.”
She shook him off and threw open the door. It wasn’t locked. Someone must live here… But who?
She flicked on the light switch. “Anyone here?” she called out.
No one answered.
The kitchen was the same but different. New appliances, a warm terra-cotta color on the walls, refinished hardwood floors. A picture on the wall showed flowers rather than the old black and white western prints her mother had favored.
“Tess,” Mac insisted. “We can’t be in here.”
Memories assailed her. Broken glass. Bullets flying. The noise so loud she pressed her hands over her ears even at the memory. She stared at the pretty furnishings. The bullet holes in the walls had been fixed and it was obvious someone either lived here or the cabin was rented out to vacationers.
Anger filled her.
She pointed to a spot on the floor near where the old refrigerator had stood. “Walt died there.” She pointed to the spot beneath the kitchen sink. “Daddy. I remember him lying in a pool of blood.” She headed through the dining room to another side corridor where the bedrooms were.
Tess pointed at the floor outside the room that had been hers. “That’s where Momma died.” Her mother’s eyes had been open. Her face strained and bitter even in death. “I’m pretty sure if the cops hadn’t shot her, I wouldn’t be alive today.”
She stepped into the room as if she were stepping over a corpse and shuddered at the reminder. The bed had been replaced, a small dressing table tucked into one corner where before there had been only a hardback chair. She went to the closet and opened the door. Inside was a row of empty wire, coat hangers. She considered the small, cramped space and then turned to Mac, who was shadowing her every move with a worried expression on his face.
She should put him out of his misery.
“I hid in here with Bobby and Sampson.” Her throat was sore from the effort of suppressing emotion. “It looks so small now and yet for that entire night it was the only place in the world that felt safe.”
Tears formed but she wouldn’t let them fall. The time for tears was over.
Someone was using her family’s sick ideals to wage a new war and she refused to let them drag her down with them. Someone had restored this cabin when in her mind it had ceased to exist. She needed to know who it was, and why.
She stepped up to the bedroom window and looked out at the view that had been hers for all those years. So much had changed, but not that. A field, some trees, the mountain behind them. She let out a pent-up breath, wishing for something she couldn’t name—maybe just normalcy. Just the sort of childhood you could look back on and miss.
“I don’t even know what happened to my dog.” She hugged herself tightly. The cops had taken Sampson away and the people at social services had refused to tell her where. The more noise she’d made the more they’d stared down their pious noses at her.
“I took him.”
She turned in surprise. “What?”
Mac shrugged and looked shame-faced. “I took him with me. I tried to get child services to let him go with you, but they told me they weren’t the pound and didn’t take pets. He was a great dog.” He shrugged. “I looked after him.”
She inhaled through an open mouth and observed him through the reflections in the glass. “All these years I wondered about him. I worried.” She swallowed hard. “Something else to thank you for.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “He lived another four years and died peacefully in his sleep. Never gave me a moment’s trouble, but whenever a truck pulled up outside the house his ears would perk up and he’d wag his tail so hard I was worried he was gonna fall over. I used to think he was waiting for his best pal to come get him to go play ball.”
But she’d never come.
Her throat was now so tight she could barely breathe. Her vision grew blurry. Still she didn’t let the tears fall. She’d adored that dog, and had missed him terribly, but at least he’d had a loving home.
Unspoken messages passed between them and Tess felt connected to this man in a way she’d never experienced with anyone else. Maybe it was the fact he knew every secret she’d kept hidden all these years—things she’d never told anyone. Maybe it was the attraction that seemed more than skin deep. She didn’t trust him, but hell if she didn’t like him. A lot.
They were so busy looking into one another’s eyes that she didn’t hear the creak of the floorboard until it was too late.