Plain Cover-Up Page 6

  “Is that unusual?”

  The woman pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch. She flinched as the door slammed closed behind her. Her skepticism was evident in the watchful way she studied Dylan and Christina. “Who did you say you are?”

  “I’m Dylan Hunter and this is Christina Jennings.”

  Mrs. Reist dragged a shaky hand across her forehead. “Why are you looking for my son?”

  “We wanted to ask him if he saw someone we know last night,” Dylan said.

  “Why?” the woman asked, obviously not willing to give them any information.

  Christina took a small step forward and placed her hand on the bottom post of the railing. She’d have to approach this woman like one of her pediatric patients unwilling to receive his shots. “A friend of mine wasn’t feeling well at a party last night and Ben gave her a ride to the healthcare clinic.” She paused for a moment. “I’m a physician there.”

  The woman jerked her head back. “He did?” She made a noncommittal sound. “Nice to see that some of the things I taught him rubbed off.” She paused for a long minute. “He’s not in trouble?”

  Other than leaving Naomi in a heap on the pavement, then nearly running me over, he’s a sweetheart.

  Christina forced a smile. “When do you expect him home?”

  The woman shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. He has a job at the general store stocking shelves. He’s got plans to go to college in the fall. Did you know that? First one in our family to go. He’s got a nice scholarship.” She rubbed her upper arms, pride evident in her eyes. Then her voice grew quiet. “I hope he’s not out doing something that will mess it up.”

  “As far as we know, he was a Good Samaritan last night. We need to talk to him.”

  “I can tell him you stopped by?”

  “Yes, please. Tell him Dr. Christina Jennings from the healthcare clinic stopped by. He’ll know who I am.” Or at least who she probably was: the woman he had nearly flattened with his car. But she’d be willing to attribute that to his panic. His fear of someone thinking he had drugged the young Amish woman. His fear of messing up his college scholarship.

  A dark thought invaded her mind: What if Ben had drugged her, then got cold feet?

  Christina couldn’t shake her unease over the fact that Roger Everett owned the property. She wasn’t a fan of coincidences of that magnitude.

  “Thanks for your time,” Dylan said, and led Christina back to his truck.

  Once they were inside the privacy of his truck, Christina said, “I can’t imagine the stress of being a parent. How does she not know where her son is?” She sighed heavily. “I was hoping he could identify Roger.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I’d convince Naomi to come forward. Maybe Cheryl could testify, too. She might have seen him at the party. Someone needs to stop this jerk. If he attacked me and drugged Naomi years later, how many other victims have there been in between?

  “I’d take the photo to Naomi at her home if I wasn’t worried about stirring up more trouble for her. I’ll show it to her when she next comes in to clean the office.”

  “Maybe it’s time you let your brother do some investigating. Maybe he can ask Cheryl, too.”

  Christina clutched her cell phone with the photo of Roger to her chest. “How do I tell my brother his good friend is a creep?”

  “He’d want to know.”

  Would he? “I need to get back to work.” She’d deal with that dilemma later.

  They drove away from the Reists’ home and returned to the parking lot of the abandoned restaurant to retrieve Christina’s car. The second Dylan turned into the lot, Christina knew something was wrong. As they got closer to her car, she saw cracks like a million spiderwebs crisscrossing her windshield.

  The bottom of her stomach dropped out.

  “What in the world?” she muttered. With a trembling hand, she pulled on the door lever and Dylan gently touched her arm.

  “Hold on. Stay in the truck.” Dylan climbed out, assessing the surroundings. Christina understood why he made a good FBI agent and not for the first time she wondered why he had given up his career—even if only temporarily—to become a professor. Cynically, she figured he had gotten bored with it and needed to mix things up. Like he had with her. Before last night, she had effectively avoided him. Since last night, they’d had bigger concerns than prying into his employment history.

  Anxious, Christina couldn’t remain in the vehicle. Her legs felt weak as she made her way to her car. The glass had shattered in circles where someone had obviously made contact with a baseball bat or tire iron...something hard enough to shatter all her windows.

  Nausea swirled in her gut. She moved as if in slow motion toward the driver’s side. Dylan stood, blocking her path, an expression on his face she couldn’t quite read.

  Didn’t want to read.

  “What is it?” Christina hated the shaky quality of her voice.

  Dylan placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “Come on. We can call the sheriff. Then have your car towed.”

  “No, I need to see.” Christina brushed past him and peered through the hole in the driver’s side window. Shards of glass dangled from the hole, waiting for gravity to drop them to the ground.

  She blinked a few times, trying to process the scene. Her vision tunneled and tiny dots danced before her eyes. Whoever did this didn’t leave a note. Instead, they had left a large knife sticking out of her headrest.

  Christina turned around, squaring her shoulders. “Who would do this?”

  Had Roger already made good on his promise to make her sorry if she caused trouble?

  The look of compassion on Dylan’s face weakened her steely resolve. She wasn’t used to relying on anyone. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice shaky.

  “We’re going to find out. And I won’t let you out of my sight until we do.”

  FOUR

  Rage coursed through Dylan’s veins as he inspected Christina’s vehicle. He leaned in closer to examine the handle of the knife to determine if he recognized the make. Little details could tell a lot about a perpetrator. Was he military? Maybe? A Boy Scout? Hopefully not.

  This particular knife was nondescript. A knife from any steak set on any kitchen counter in America.

  In contrast to the generic knife, the attack was definitely specific, targeted. Personal.

  Dylan was glad it didn’t take much to convince Christina to call the sheriff’s department. But he knew it would be a struggle for her to tell her brother her suspicions about his good friend.

  The approaching sound of an engine and tires on pavement had Dylan squinting into the sun. He tented his hand over his eyes and was relieved to see a sheriff’s car pull up. He turned around as Christina was slipping her cell phone into her purse.

  “Nick was in the area.” He could read the hesitation on her face.

  Dylan wanted to reassure her that everything was going to be okay, but really it wasn’t his place. He had long ago abdicated that position.

  Nick climbed out of the car and gave his sister an embrace. “You okay? What happened here?” Nick pushed his hat back on his head, then gave his sister a curious look.

  Christina discreetly swiped at a tear trailing down her cheek and nodded against his chest. An emptiness expanded inside Dylan. He had not been able to provide her comfort.

  Nick was the first to speak. “Does this have anything to do with last night?” His question was directed at his sister, but his suspicious glare was firmly intended for Dylan.

  Nick was very protective of his little sister and apparently he had a long memory for guys who hurt her. Despite the silent tension brewing between the men, Dylan held out his hand in greeting. “Nick, nice to see you.”

  Chri
stina stepped back. Nick accepted Dylan’s hand in greeting and immediately got to business. “What happened here?”

  Christina crossed her arms firmly across her chest. “We decided to check in on the young man from last night, Ben Reist.”

  Nick held up his hands, exasperated. “And you did this why? I would have followed up.”

  “I know. I just...” Christina cut Dylan a quick glance. “Ben wasn’t home anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I had parked here and we drove over there together. When we got back to my car someone had vandalized it.” Christina kicked at the small gravel stones in the parking lot.

  Nick glanced around the area. “Pretty remote location.” He rubbed his jaw. “Maybe bored kids.”

  “They must have been really bored.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone.

  “I looked up Ben in the system. He doesn’t have a record. Unless today was the day he decided to go off the rails, he doesn’t seem like a kid who would do this.” Nick slowly walked around the car, inspecting it. When he reached the driver’s side and noticed the knife, he looked over at Christina, a pinched expression on his face. “This is personal. Who would have done this?”

  Christina cleared her throat. “I don’t think it’s Ben. I think he was a Good Samaritan who was afraid of getting involved beyond helping Naomi.” She stammered a bit. “I—I think maybe...”

  Christina met Dylan’s gaze and he gave her a subtle nod, encouraging her to continue.

  “I think Roger Everett had something to do with this,” she finally blurted out.

  “What are you talking about?” Nick’s brows snapped together.

  Unease twisted Dylan’s insides. He hated that he hadn’t been there for Christina when she needed him most. He couldn’t help imagining Christina trying to get away from Roger. Panicked.

  Dylan gritted his teeth. He had been so determined to find a better job with the FBI in a big city, forgetting those he hurt along the way. He had stomped on her heart without any consideration in order to follow his dreams.

  The pain on Christina’s face made him realize he had pursued the wrong dream.

  “Hear me out,” Christina pleaded. “I know you and Roger go way back, but he’s not the man you think he is.”

  “Go way back?” Nick’s voice rose in disbelief. “Sarah and I were going to ask him to be the baby’s godfather.” He took a step back, seeming to be standing on the edge of control. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Nick’s law enforcement mask slipped firmly into place, hiding the strain evident on his face only moments before.

  “Do you remember when I had a black eye before you were deployed, back when I was still in college?”

  Pain flashed across Nick’s face. “You said your roommate elbowed you in the eye.”

  “My roommate didn’t elbow me in the eye.” Christina paused long enough to let it sink in. Dylan felt like he was the witness to something he shouldn’t have been privy to. Taking a risk, he lifted his hand and placed it on the small of Christina’s back. Her stiff posture seemed to ease.

  “Roger hurt you?” Nick’s voice shook.

  Christina’s shoulders rose and fell. “We were the last two at the beach bonfire. The send-off party for you guys.” Her voice was oddly calm.

  Guilt pinged Dylan’s insides. He should have protected Christina. Yet, he realized his guilt was irrational, misplaced. Christina was too independent, too strong willed to have allowed him to be her protector.

  Yet the truth was, if he hadn’t dumped her, he would have been there that night. Roger wouldn’t have had the chance to hurt her.

  “Did he...?” Nick’s voice cracked as he crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance, as if being tough could shield him from the pain of his friend’s betrayal.

  Christina shook her head. “I was able to fight him off.” A distant look descended into her eyes. “I’m not sure how, but I did. I escaped with a black eye and a few bruised ribs.” She pressed her hand to her mouth, then dropped her hand as if she were reliving the moment.

  Dylan was beginning to understand the wall he had sensed around Christina. She had immersed herself in work to avoid getting hurt. If she didn’t put herself—physically or emotionally—out there, she wouldn’t get hurt.

  And could he blame her?

  Nick took a few steps toward his sheriff’s cruiser, then pivoted back toward them. “I’m going to kill him.”

  Christina put her hand on her brother’s forearm. “Stop. That’s not who you are.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Even without seeing it on his face, Dylan could hear the anguish in Nick’s voice.

  Christina shrugged. “Where do I begin? Maybe it was my fault.”

  “You can’t believe that...”

  “You guys were being deployed together. I didn’t want my foolish decision to stay on the beach alone with him to jeopardize your safety. I didn’t want Roger to take it out on you if I accused him. And I had no proof...” The words poured out of her mouth, as if she had been waiting to reveal her long-kept secret. “And he had a wife and child. I didn’t want them to suffer.”

  Nick pulled his sister into a fierce hug. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry you couldn’t come to me.”

  Nick lifted his eyes to Dylan, an unspoken truce between the two men. Apparently Nick realized everyone made mistakes.

  Nick released his sister, then took off his hat and plowed his hand through his hair. He pointed his thumb at her damaged car. “How does all this tie into last night?”

  “Well, my patient—” Christina was careful not to betray Naomi’s confidence “—was possibly drugged at a party on Roger’s property. I took a urine sample, so we’ll see.” Christina seemed to be studying her brother’s face. “A little too coincidental, right?”

  “You think Roger’s responsible?” Anger, disbelief, disappointment threaded through Nick’s strained voice.

  “I wanted to see if the young man who brought my patient to the clinic recognized Roger’s photo. A guy our age would stand out at an underage drinking party, either way, but I thought the photo would cement it.”

  “Why would you do this on your own?” Nick planted his hands on his duty belt.

  “I wasn’t alone.” Christina tipped her head toward Dylan.

  “You let her do this?” Nick clenched his jaw, obviously checking his emotions.

  Dylan’s eyebrows shot up, but before he could say anything, Christina tilted her head and laughed, a sound void of humor. “No one lets me do anything. You of all people should know that.”

  Nick held up his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I didn’t mean... I’m worried about you.” His brow wrinkled. “You think Roger trashed your car?”

  Christina fisted her hands in frustration. “Someone doesn’t want me pursuing what happened to my patient.”

  “How would they know your car was parked here?” Nick asked.

  Christina shrugged. “Maybe they followed me?”

  “This stops here. Now.” Nick turned on his heel to walk away and Christina grabbed his arm, stopping him.

  “Wait. We have to come up with a plan,” Christina said.

  “A plan?” Her brother sounded skeptical.

  “Yes. I don’t think you should confront Roger.”

  Nick rubbed a hand roughly across his jaw. “Um...he hurt you.”

  “Wait. Listen to me. His wife is sick.” Christina planted the palm of her hand on her forehead, as if she were racked with indecision.

  “Don’t you think I know that? He’s my friend!”

  “Then you’ll understand that Linda can’t handle any more stress. Of course, I don’t want any more women to be hurt, either, but I’m also afraid. What if Roger didn’t have anything to do with the incident last night and I’m
creating havoc in his life? Well, I’m not worried about his life, but his family’s. His wife’s. His son’s.”

  “I should forget about this? After what he did to you?” Nick asked.

  “Can you investigate without letting on? Maybe Roger’ll mess up if he doesn’t realize he’s a suspect,” Christina suggested.

  Nick stared at her for a long moment, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I’ll have your car towed and we’ll see if we can get prints.” He turned his attention to Dylan. “You’ll look out for my sister.” It was an order, not a question.

  Christina shook her head, a playful expression easing the hard lines around her mouth as if finally revealing the truth had somehow set her free. She planted a kiss on her brother’s cheek. “I can look out for myself.”

  * * *

  Christina stole one last glance at her poor car as they pulled out of the parking lot. The vandalism was the work of someone who had serious rage issues. Someone who wanted to take it out on her car.

  Take it out on her.

  No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t believe that this was a random incident and that made her feel even worse. Afraid.

  She tugged on her seat belt to prevent it from locking across her chest. She felt claustrophobic as it was. “I’m not sure I did the right thing telling my brother about Roger.”

  Across the cab of the truck, Dylan shot her a glance with a curious expression before turning his attention back to the road. “You’ve been holding this secret inside for years. You needed to tell your brother.”

  “What if I’ve built up the incident to be more than it was?” A shudder rolled through her. A headache started behind her eyes.

  Why had doubt taken root now that she had told her brother the truth? It was the truth, right? She hadn’t exaggerated the attack in her mind, had she?

  Dear Lord, help me navigate these uncharted waters.

  “You did the right thing.” Dylan spoke with a confidence she could only dream of.

  “What if attacking me was a one-off and Roger had nothing to do with the attack on Naomi?”

  “Stop what if-ing everything to death.” There was something in his tone that made her pause.