Chapter Four

Vanessa woke before dawn and left Craig lying in bed, flat on his back, a snore rattling in his throat. Muscles that hadn’t been used in quite a while ached but in a good way. After dressing, she made her way downstairs. She could hear a cup of coffee calling her name.

As the aroma of freshly brewed coffee rolled through the kitchen, Vanessa grabbed the first mug directly from under the drip. She perched on a stool and cradled the hot cup between her hands, letting the scent of nirvana fill her nose. The smell of fresh brewed coffee was one of her favorite things.

The first sip was just rolling down her throat when a knock at the front door echoed down the hall. She set the cup on the counter and picked up her gun. She eased toward the door, all her senses on heightened alert. As she got close, the knock came again. When she looked through the peephole, her mouth dropped in surprise and she lowered her gun.

She opened the door, a frown pulling at her forehead. “What are you doing here?”

Hank Patterson’s eyes were serious. The corners of his mouth were pulled down. None of his usual humor marked his expression. “You remember Agent Freeman of the FBI.”

“I do.” She glanced toward the tall, African-American man to Hank’s left. “Come on in.”

Both men were dressed in khaki slacks, polo shirts and wind jackets. Freeman stood straight and rigid, an imposing presence next to Hank’s more relaxed stance. The FBI agent carried himself and spoke with an air of confidence. From the day she’d been introduced to Agent Freeman, she’d been reassured that law enforcement was on top of Craig’s case

She was not reassured to have him standing in front of her again.

“Coffee?” she asked. “Just brewed a fresh pot.”

Hank nodded. “That’d be good.”

The men followed her back to the kitchen. Once they had coffee and were seated at the kitchen table, Vanessa folded her arms on the wooden top.

“So, I know this isn’t a social visit. What’s up?”

Hank nodded to Freeman to take the lead.

“Sorry for the early visit,” he said. “Thanks for the report last night. That information got us wondering how Knue not only got to Texas, but where he would have obtained the truck and the gun used in the drive-by shooting. From everything we’d learned about him, he was not a gun guy, so why a drive-by? Frankly, the more we learned, the less the pieces fit.”

“Okay,” she said. “So are you saying we were just lucky enough to be caught in a random shooting?”

Freeman shook his head. “No. Craig, or maybe you, were definitely the target.”

She frowned and slapped her hand flat to her chest. “Me? I don’t have any enemies.”

“Let him finish, Britt,” Hank said.

She flipped up her hands in surrender.

“Late last night, we found Knue.”

“Great,” she interrupted again.

“Not so great.” Freeman shook his head. “He’s dead.”

The news stunned her. She sat back in her chair. “How’d he die and how long ago?”

“Where’d you go, babe?” a sleepy voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

All three heads turned toward the door that lead to the hall.

Dressed only in boxers, Craig scratched his chest when he walked in. He looked at the two men at the table and arched a brow. “Well, hello. Darling, you didn’t tell me we had company.”

Vanessa shut her eyes with a sigh. “Go put on some clothes, Craig.”

“Be right back.”

Hank looked at Vanessa with one eyebrow raised. “Do we need to talk about boundaries?”

She snorted. “Sure. We can talk about you and Sadie first. Then we can talk about me.”

Hank lifted his mug of coffee and took a long drink.

“I think we should wait until Mr. Devlin can join us,” Freeman said.

Vanessa nodded. “Anyone need a refill? I think we have doughnuts if you’re interested.”

The FBI man grinned. “Who wouldn’t be interested in doughnuts?”

She found the box of sweet pastries in the pantry and brought them to table, along with plates and napkins.

Shortly after, Craig reentered, now appropriately dresses in shorts and a T-shirt. No shoes. He poured a cup of coffee, grabbed a doughnut, and sat next to Vanessa.

“So, what’s happening Agent Freeman?” But before the FBI agent could speak, he looked at Hank. “You another agent?”

Vanessa laid her hand on Craig’s arm. “This is Hank Patterson, my boss.”

“Nice to meet you. Thanks for sending my Nessie back to me.”

Hank’s eyebrows arched.

Vanessa sighed. “Talk to us, Agent Freeman.”

“As I was saying, Joseph Knue’s body was discovered over a week ago in a deserted warehouse in Los Angeles. The body was in early stages of decomp, so he’d been dead at least a couple of weeks and hard to identify. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but his pockets were empty. No driver’s license, student ID or anything else that could be used to put a name with the body. For the past couple of weeks, he’s been in LA County morgue listed as a John Doe. The morgue finally got around to running his fingerprints and got a match to our BOLO.”

“Wow,” Craig said. “Surprised but not.” He looked at Vanessa. “I told you I didn’t think those last notes sounded like him.”

“Maybe they weren’t,” Freeman agreed. “He’d been dead for a while when you got those.”

“Any chance he wrote them before he died?” Vanessa asked. “And how did he die? You didn’t say.”

“Shot in the forehead. Dead before he hit the ground.”

“Geez,” Craig said with a wince. “Here I was thinking possible suicide.”

“So where are we?” Vanessa asked. The news concerned her. Knue had been the only suspect and with him dead, was the threat over? “Am I to stay on here, Hank? Is the threat to Craig over?”

“Of course you’re staying on,” Craig answered before Hank could speak. “Where else would you go?”

Hank nodded. “I spoke with our client today and—”

“You mean my brother,” Craig interrupted. “I know he’s behind hiring your company. I actually thought this was a total set-up to get Vanessa and me in the same room.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think any of those threats were serious until last night. So maybe that drive-by was directed at me?”

“We believe so,” Freeman said. He shifted in his chair and focus his gaze directly on Craig. “From what we know so far, there have no threats against the restaurant, the owner or any employee. Thus far, we’ve found no threats against anyone dining there last night.” He leaned over the table. “You were lucky you didn’t get shot last night.” The agent turned his gaze toward Vanessa. “Good job.”

Hank cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we’ll keep Vanessa here. I understand from Chase Adams that you’ve met.”

“We have.”

“Great. He can give you backup if needed.”

“But who’s doing this?” Craig demanded, slamming his coffee mug on the table.

Hank and Agent Freeman exchanged looks before Freeman said, “We do have one lead to follow. You remember April Young?”

Craig rubbed the raspy morning beard on his chin and frowned. “Ex-student from a couple of years back. Nothing exceptional about her work. Attractive girl but aggressive. Could be snarky toward other writers. Kind of a nasty attitude if anyone made any negative comments on her writing, which wasn’t all that great, best that I remember.  Why?”

“She and Knue were living together for the past six months. From what we got from the neighbors, she had some money, and Knue had nowhere to live, so he moved in with her.”

“I can’t see them as a couple,” Craig observed. “He didn’t seem like her type.”

“What was her type?” Hank leaned forward.

“Older men. Someone who could wine and dine her, take her nice places and buy her expensive things. But mostly she was a people user. She buttered up to anyone, especially men, who would do her biding. I remember a couple of times thinking that the work she turned in didn’t sound like something a young twenty-something girl would write. The writing was too dark and too deep for any other assignment she’d turned in.”

Vanessa didn’t say anything, but the description of the type of man this woman was looking for sound a whole lot like Craig Devlin. The hairs on the back of her neck stood.

“What about girlfriends?” Freeman asked.

“Never saw her with any other girls.” He shrugged. “Never saw her with Knue either, so what I saw or didn’t see doesn’t mean much.”

Freeman flipped open a small notepad. “And what about you? Did you date her? Help her in some way?”

Craig’s mouth pulled down and he huffed at the suggestion. “No.”

“We spoke with your department head. She mentioned you’d asked that Ms. Young be removed from your class.”

“That’s right, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with what’s going on now. That request had to be two, three years ago.”

“Three,” Freeman said.

“Sounds about right.”

“So why did you ask for her to be transferred to another instructor?”

Craig raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing in spikes. “It can’t have anything to do with this. It just can’t.”

Vanessa knew Craig well enough to feel his agitation at the questions. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him no one felt he’d done anything wrong.

On the other hand, these questions about a student were making her anxious. Some of the rumors that’d floated back to her had involved students. Was it possible her ex had stepped over the professor-student relationship line?

“Were you having an affair with her?” Freeman asked.

The question socked Vanessa in her stomach and she gasped.

“God, no!” Craig jumped to his feet and stomped to the coffee pot to pour a refill. He stood with his back to the group. “She wanted to,” he said and then turned toward them. “The honest truth is I don’t know if she was really wanting to have an affair, or if she just wanted to sleep with me so I would help her with her book.”

The kitchen was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional dump of ice cubes in the freezer. The three people at the table sat still and watched as Craig walked around the kitchen, his mouth moving in a silent debate with himself.

Finally, he retook his seat. “I don’t know a whole lot about her. I know she came from money. I think, and I’m not sure about this, but she might have been from Texas. She had the long, southern drawl when she spoke. The kind of drawl that most men find sexy.”

“So how did she convey what she wanted from you?” Freeman asked.

“First time, she bought me drinks. Tried to pick me up in a bar, but I was meeting my agent, so I passed.” He shot Vanessa a sideways glance. “Even if I hadn’t had a meeting, I would have declined. She isn’t my type. Later, after my agent left, she came over and took his seat. We had a couple of drinks, but that was the extent of it. When she suggested we move the party to her house, I declined again and went home.”

Craig coughed and took a couple of gulps of coffee. He shifted in his chair and brushed his hair off his brow before he continued.

“A couple of days later, she came to my office and offered to give me a blow job to change her midterm exam from a C to an A. Needless to say, I rejected that offer. My job was on the line here and I was getting quite uncomfortable being around her. I asked her to leave.”

He shot a glance at Vanessa and then dropped his gaze to his coffee mug. “God, this is hard.” He sighed. “She flipped up the back of her skirt and sat on my desk. She let her legs hang open, not spread, but wide enough to give me a preview of her goods—not that I looked because I didn’t. She smiled and said we could fuck for her grade, in any way, any style or any kink I wanted.”

Vanessa’s heart sank. Her head swam with nausea.

He raised his gaze from his mug to look at Freeman. “I’m sorry. I must be slow on the uptake. What does this have to do with Knue’s threats?”

“Did you know that April Young was from Big Branch when you came here? Is that why you’re here?” Freeman stared hard at Craig.

Craig’s eyes shot wide. He shoved back his chair and stood. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Did you know April Young’s grandparents owned this house you’re renting? What kind of deal did you make with her? Did you pay her to get rid of Knue and his threats?”

The acid in Vanessa’s stomach bubbled. She felt nauseous. What had Craig done?

 

Craig’s mind whirled but the fog didn’t clear. Acid in his stomach lapped up the sides of his stomach.

He looked at Vanessa. Surely she didn’t think he’d done anything with a student. But the look she gave him was hard. Her eyes were narrowed. Her lips pulled tight against her teeth. Her arms folded across her chest. 

He dragged his thoughts back to his ex-student, April Young. This was her grandparents’ place? How?

“Mr. Devlin,” the FBI agent said. “Sit down.”

“Do I need to call a lawyer?” he asked, nervous tension pulling at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

He paced the kitchen and back, all the while not meeting Vanessa’s gaze. This was crazy. He felt like he was living someone else’s life.

“Mr. Devlin. How did you find this house to rent?” Freeman asked.

Craig ran his hands through his hair again. “This is insane,” he said fiercely. “I’m the victim here. I don’t have anything to do with what is going on.”

Vanessa stood and walked over to him. “Come on back to the table.” She took his hand. “Sit down. Let’s talk this through. I’m sure that’s not what the agent thinks. Right?”

Craig allowed her to lead him back to the table. He sat.

She took the chair next to his. She squeezed his hand and then released it, pulled her own hands back into her lap.

He immediately missed the comfort of her touch.

“Look, Mr. Devlin, we’re in the process of putting all the pieces together,” the FBI agent said. “You can help with that. How did you end up renting April Young’s grandparents’ house?”

“My agent, Dave Moore, found it. Told me he’d found a great house in a quiet town. He assured me I should be able to catch up.” He looked at the federal agent. “I’m behind schedule on my last book, which takes place in Big Branch. Dave thought if I was in the same area during the writing that I’d produce more words a day. The book is based on actual events that took place here about a year ago. He also arranged for me to meet with the book’s main characters.”

“Do you have any idea how your agent found this particular house?” Freeman asked.

“No clue. You’d have to ask him.”

“We’d love to, but he seems to have disappeared. When did you last talk to or see him?” The FBI agent posed his pen over his notebook.

Craig stiffened. “What? Dave’s missing?”

“Missing in so far as he hasn’t been to work in two weeks and no one has heard from him.”

“What about his wife, Martha?” Craig chewed on a fingernail.” Have you talked to her? You’re the FBI. Have you pinged his cell phone?” Dave wasn’t the type to go off the radar. Sometimes, Craig used to joke that Dave should have a cell phone surgically implanted. He was never without.

“We talked to his wife. She reported him missing when he didn’t come back from a business trip. She went to the airport to pick him up and he wasn’t on the plane. He hasn’t been seen since stepping on a plane to New Orleans two weeks ago.” Freeman leaned toward him. “So, once again, when did you last see or talk to him?”

Vanessa laced her fingers through his and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know. Let me think. I don’t talk to him that often.” He released Vanessa’s hand and rubbed his forehead as he thought. “Let’s see. I’ve been here about three weeks. I guess I talked to him the day I arrived to let him know that the place was great. That’s it. It’s not like I talk to him often, only when we have specific business to discuss. I mean, we aren’t close friends, just business associates.” He rapped his fingers on the table and frowned. “Why did he go to New Orleans? As far as I can remember, there hasn’t been a writers’ conference there lately.”

“We don’t know,” Freeman replied. “His wife didn’t know. He told her he some business to take care of. Since he traveled a lot to publishing conferences and had meetings with editors and publishing houses, his wife said she stopped trying to remember what he was doing during each trip. She only noted where he went and when he would be home.”

“Dave missing. Knue shot. Someone trying to shoot me last night. This is crazy,” he muttered under his breath. “What about New Orleans? Did you find any leads there?”

“Mr. Devlin. Let’s go back to April Young. You said she propositioned you and you turned her down.”

“That’s right.”

“Was she mad?” Freeman jotted a note in his flip pad.

“I don’t know, but maybe. Like I told you, she could get testy when things didn’t go her way and what person enjoys rejection?”

“But she was pretty,” the agent said.

“Yes. I told you that but…” He looked Vanessa. “I didn’t touch her.”

“Why not?” Freeman demanded. “She was of age, attractive, will to do anything. Why not take her up on it?”

“Besides her being my student, I couldn’t. I’m married.”

Silence filled the kitchen. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Vanessa. She’d never understand.

There was a screech of chair legs on the floor. “If you don’t need me, I have a few things to do,” Vanessa said.

Hank pointed toward Vanessa. “I’ll check with you before we leave.”

“What time’s your flight?” she asked.

“We’re on the company jet, so we’re on our own schedule.”

“Okay.” Her footsteps were heavy as she marched from the room.

“Thanks, guys,” Craig said. “Way to fuck up my life.” He dragged his fingers through his hair.

“Sorry,” Hank said, “but she deserves to know the truth.”

“And I plan to tell her. I was just working my way up to it.”

“Yes, we noticed how you’re working on it.” Hank gave him a smirk.

“Mr. Devlin, let’s get finished here and then you can see if you can fix what you broke.”

“I broke?” Craig said with a snarl. “You two fuckers storm in early this morning, accuse me of having an affair with a student, wondering if I had something to do with my missing agent, and now you’ve screwed with my marriage. Thanks ever so much.”

“Craig,” Hank said. “I know all the questions are hard and even embarrassing, but the sooner we get to the bottom of what’s happening, the sooner you’ll have your life back.”

“Let me ask you something,” Craig said to Freeman. He leaned toward the bigger man and glared. “You knew before you got here that I hadn’t sleep with April Young, didn’t you?”

The agent gave him a cold stare but said nothing.

“And since I’ve been here three weeks, I was probably already here when Knue was killed, right?”

Again, his answer was a cold stare.

“And I didn’t pick this house. My agent did, my now missing agent, so you can’t confirm that part of the story. So, exactly what do you want from me?”

“We don’t want you to get killed,” Freeman finally said.

Freeman serious stare was a slap of reality to Craig, He slumped and released a long breath. “You’re thinking that’s a real possibility?”

“We do.”

“April Young wants to kill me because I wouldn’t have sex with her.”

“And you refused to help her get published. A vengeful woman is a determined woman,” Hank said.

“So what now?”

“We’ve notified Sheriff Shade Gruber. He’ll have his deputies do more frequent drive-bys. He offered to station a couple of people inside the house but we assured him we had that covered with Ms. Britt’s presence.” Freeman looked at the door where Vanessa had stormed from the room. With an arched brow, he asked, “We do, don’t we?”

“I hope so,” Craig said. “Do you have any idea where my agent is?”

“We’ve traced him to a hotel in New Orleans Garden District. He was there with a beautiful, younger woman.”

“April Young?” He straightens.

“We aren’t sure, but that’s where my money is,” Freeman said.

“Damn. April and Dave? An affair? I hope you’re wrong. That would kill his wife.”

“If you think of anything, hear anything, or if April or Dave contact you, call me.” The agent pulled a business card from his pocket and laid it in front of Craig. “Be on the alert, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like distracting your bodyguard by sleeping with her,” Hank said, his eyes blazed with a glare.. Hank handed Craig a card. “And if you can’t keep your hands off her, call me. I’ll send another Brotherhood Protectors agent to take her place. A male.”

“Fuck you, Patterson,” Craig snapped. “She isn’t leaving.”

“Remember what I said,” Freeman said, rising to his feet. “Anything happens, you call me.”

“Got it.”

Hank Patterson looked at the FBI man. “I need to check with my agent-of-record before we leave.”

“No problem,” Freeman said. “I’ll wait in the living room.” He extended his hand to Craig. “Good luck, Mr. Devlin. I’m a fan, so keep writing.”

Craig stayed in the kitchen until he heard the two men leave, then he headed upstairs to make things right with Nessie, or at least, as right as he could.

 

April Young finished cleaning her Glock and reloaded it. Time to finish this. She wished this project had gone better. She and Dr. Devlin would have made an excellent writing team. Even his agent agreed, but then Dave would have agreed to pretty much anything she asked. Men were like that when you had their cocks down your throat.

She chuckled at the memory.

She was going to miss that man. She wondered if anyone would find any pieces of his body. Alligators did good clean-up work—that fact was for sure. 

Mrs. Johnson, or rather her handyman, had done an adequate job keeping her old house standing. Last time April was home, she’d visited the old woman and found the underground passage to her grandparents’ old place still accessible. She’d hoped Mrs. Johnson, or someone in her family, hadn’t closed it off permanently.

Her sister had talked about closing it for security reasons. Deloris always made plans but, unlike April, DD rarely showed the motivation to follow through.

April had to make her move tonight. With Deloris gone on an overnight business trip and Mrs. Johnson down for the count by seven, fate had handed April the perfect opportunity to make her move.

After dark, she slipped over to the Johnson place and let herself in with the key she’d copied. She flipped on the basement lights. Florescent bulbs flickered, hummed, and came to life. She hurried down the stairs and found the door to the tunnel, just like she’d found it four months ago.

Project revenge was a go for tonight.