Chapter Eight

"Do you have any suspects?" Shelby's supervisor, Special Agent in Charge Donald Lester, got straight to the point when he contacted her Monday afternoon. Though she had been sending regular reports of her activities in Eagle Mountain, this was the first time they had spoken since her arrival.

"Not yet," she replied. "I'm hoping we can get DNA results from the hair I submitted—"

"What about the brother?" Lester interrupted.

"Zach?"

"He was in town. Maybe his sister contacted him and arranged to meet. He was upset, felt betrayed—whatever. They argued, and he killed her."

"Zach Gregory was one of the first responders on scene when Camille's body was discovered," Shelby said. "He was genuinely shocked."

"You weren't there," Lester said. "Maybe he's a good actor. He could have killed her, then returned to the scene with Search and Rescue and faked his surprise."

Zach? Kill his sister? "Sir, I don't think—"

"Find out where Zach Gregory was at the time his sister was murdered," Lester said. "Don't rule him out until you have proof."

"Yes, sir." Even though part of her resisted the idea that Zach had anything to do with Camille's death, she saw the sense in ruling him out.

"If Gregory isn't responsible, do you have any reason to believe Camille Gregory's killer is still in the area?" he asked.

"I doubt it, sir," Shelby said. "If this was someone hired by the Chalk brothers, he wouldn't be likely to stick around."

"Then you won't accomplish anything by staying there longer," Lester said. "Focus on the brother, and if you can clear him, I'll reassign you."

She tightened her grip on the phone. "I'm getting closer to discovering what sent Camille to Eagle Mountain in the first place," she said. "She believed her brother was in danger, and if we found out why, that could point us to new charges against the Chalk brothers."

"We know they've committed plenty of crimes," Lester said. "Finding enough proof to put them behind bars has been a problem."

"I'm looking for that proof, sir. I have the laptop recovered from Camille's rental van. I'm hoping it will have something useful on it."

"You can analyze a laptop here in Houston," Lester said.

"Yes, sir. But I want to dig deeper into the brother. He may know something he's not saying."

"Do you think Camille contacted him before she was killed?"

Shelby considered this. "I don't think so. He was truly shocked when I told him about her time in witness security. But Camille had some reason for believing he was in danger. I want to find out why." She needed to find out what had led Camille to flee the safety of her new life in Maryland. Whatever it had been, she hadn't felt comfortable confiding it to Shelby, and that hurt, though she would never admit it to Agent Lester. She had worked to keep her friendship with Camille a secret, fearful of being accused of being too personally involved with the witness and transferred off the case.

"Have you found any evidence that the brother really is in danger?"

"No, sir," she admitted. She had tried to keep an eye on Zach and had questioned him and those around him and had uncovered no threat. Which cast a lot of doubt on Camille's motivation to come to Eagle Mountain. Maybe she had just missed her family. "But I'm hoping something on the laptop will clear things up."

"I would have expected her killer to take or destroy the laptop," Lester said.

"Maybe they didn't have time. There were a lot of people at the campground. We have a witness who saw someone suspicious near Camille's van shortly before she died, but the floodwaters were threatening to cut off the camp. He may have decided he needed to leave before he was trapped."

"I read the report," Lester said. "Not a lot of detail to go on." The sound of shuffling papers signaled that Lester had either turned his attention to something else or was growing restless. "I'll give you three more days," he said.

"Thank you, sir." With luck, she would find enough to persuade him to let her stay a week. Her instincts told her the key to this mystery was in Eagle Mountain.

"What's the brother like?" he asked. "The file makes him out to be a drifter. Interesting, considering Camille's degree of focus." Lester had worked the case from the first. He had been one of the agents on the scene immediately after the judge's murder. He had been the first to interview Camille after the Houston Police had contacted the FBI.

"He was grieving his sister's death," she said. "I think he was restless and reluctant to get close to anyone. That seems to have changed here in Eagle Mountain. He has a good job with a mine and is part of the local Search and Rescue team. That takes a lot of commitment."

"Good for him. But is he going to help us bring down the Chalk brothers? Don't lose sight of the mission, Agent Dryden."

"I won't, sir."

"Good. Do what you have to, but wrap things up as soon as you can," he said. "You have plenty of work to do here."

"Yes, sir." She ended the call and sat back on the bed in the plain hotel room that was her headquarters in Eagle Mountain. She had promised Agent Lester that she wouldn't lose sight of her reason for being here. He thought that was to gather as much dirt as she could on the Chalk brothers and their possible connection to Camille's murder.

But Shelby had another mission in mind. She couldn't shake the idea that she had let Camille down. Looking back on her last few conversations with Camille, she could see that her friend had given her hints about what was going on. "I can't stop thinking about Zach," she had said. "I worry about him." Another time, she had asked Shelby what the Chalk brothers would do if a new witness to the judge's murder turned up—say, someone who had been passing by on the street. Would that person be in danger, given that the Chalks had already been acquitted of the murder?

"I think the Chalk brothers wouldn't want to leave anyone out there who could potentially harm them," Shelby had answered. "They might worry prosecutors would come up with new charges. Or the judge's family might file a civil suit. Do you know of another witness? Did you see someone on the street that night?" Shelby searched her friend's face for some sign that Camille was telling the truth or holding back.

"No. I was just playing around with possibilities," Camille said. "I didn't know if the case could go back to trial if a new witness came forward."

"Not if they've been acquitted," Shelby said. "No double jeopardy."

After that, Camille had switched the conversation to talk of a new television series they had both been watching. Only after Camille had vanished did Shelby replay that conversation and berate herself for not digging deeper. Were Camille's renewed worries for her brother and her mention of a potential new witness that night related at all? Was that what got her killed, or was the murder only payback for testifying against the Chalks in the first place?

Objectively, Shelby knew there were plenty of dead ends in investigative work, and many crimes went unsolved for years. But she was determined to do everything she could to discover the reason for Camille's fears about her brother's safety. She hadn't paid enough attention before, and let Camille slip away to face death alone. She didn't want to make that mistake again.

O N T UESDAY AFTERNOON , Zach was called into the human resources office at work. The HR director, Kathleen, was an efficient woman in her mid-forties with a British accent and long, highly polished nails, her brown hair pulled back in a tight chignon. "Zach, how are you doing?" she asked when he settled into the chair across from her desk.

"I'm okay. What did you need to see me about?"

"I was surprised to see you only took three days bereavement leave," she said. "I wanted to make sure you knew you're entitled to longer time off if you feel the need."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm okay," he repeated. "I'd just as soon be at work. Staying busy helps."

Kathleen nodded, though she continued to stare at him as if prepared to dodge out of the way if he suddenly exploded. "If there's anything we can do to help, with navigating the arrangements for your sister's services, or if you need to travel to be with family..."

"We haven't decided anything for certain. I'll let you know." Was all this concern normal, or merely nosiness? "I'd really rather not talk about it," he added.

"Of course." She pressed her lips together. "I am a bit concerned," she said.

"About what?"

"An FBI agent visited this morning. She said she needed to confirm your whereabouts last Monday. I verified that you worked until noon, when you received a call that you were needed to assist Search and Rescue with evacuating a flooded campground, at which time you were excused from your duties here."

He stiffened. "Who was the agent?"

"A woman." She glanced down at the desk, and for the first time, he noticed the business card on the blotter in front of her. "Special Agent Shelby Dryden."

Why was Shelby checking up on him? "What did she say when you told her I was at work?"

"She thanked me and left." Kathleen leaned forward. "What is this about? Are you in trouble with the FBI?"

"No, I'm not in trouble." He gripped the arms of the chair. "Agent Dryden is investigating my sister's death."

Kathleen nodded. "If you need anything, be sure to let us know."

"Thanks." He stood and moved to the door. Instead of returning to his desk, he went out a side door that opened into the parking lot. Sun beat down, the warmth soothing after the air-conditioned chill of the HR office.

He paced, replaying the conversation with Kathleen. Shelby had been at his job? Why?

He pulled out his phone and found the history of her calls to him—calls he hadn't answered. He hit the call back button and she answered after only two rings. "Zach? Is everything all right?"

"No," he said. "I just got called into the HR office and was told that an FBI agent stopped by to verify my whereabouts the day Camille was killed. What was that about?"

"It's just a formality, Zach," she said. "I know you had nothing to do with Camille's death, but I had to eliminate you on paper, that's all."

"I didn't even know Camille was alive!"

"I know, Zach. I'm just dotting all the i 's and crossing the t 's. When we do find the killer, a good lawyer is going to immediately try to detract attention from their client by pointing the finger at family. Eliminating that possibility up front saves us all trouble in the long run."

He forced himself to breathe more evenly. "One of the Chalk brothers' defense attorneys tried to say Camille killed the judge." He remembered almost coming out of his chair at that moment in the trial. His father had pulled him down.

"No one ever believed that, but it's a way of planting doubt in jurors' minds."

He nodded, even though Shelby couldn't see him. "I would never have hurt Camille," he said. "Never. If only she had contacted me. She could have been safe with me, instead of at that campground."

"Or the person who killed her might have killed you both." Shelby spoke quietly, but he felt the impact of her words. "I'm sorry this happened, Zach," she continued. "Everything about this is ugly. But you and I are on the same side here. We both want justice for Camille."

"Okay." He felt foolish now, blowing up at her. He wasn't one to put his emotions on display. "I have to get back to work now."

"So do I. But call me anytime, even if it's only to complain." He heard the smile behind the words and pictured her pretty, expressive face. "I'm tough. I can take it."

She didn't look tough, but he figured she had to be. Whereas everyone who saw him thought he was strong. They didn't know how wrong they could be.

S HELBY UNDERSTOOD Z ACH was annoyed with her for checking his alibi. But she didn't want him to stay annoyed. It was important that he trusted her. She waited until she thought he would be home from work Tuesday and drove to his townhouse. He was just closing the front door behind him when she arrived. "I can't talk now," he said when she approached. "I was just leaving."

"Where are you going?"

He looked for a moment as if he might not answer. Maybe he'd tell her his destination was none of her business. It wasn't as if she hadn't been rebuffed before. "I'm going to pick up dinner," he said.

"Could I come with you?" Before he could object, she continued, "I need to eat, too, and I have information for you about Camille's belongings." Someone with the Marshals Service was already in the process of packing everything to ship to his parents, but she could let him know that was happening. Maybe the thought of having her things would be comforting.

He hesitated, then nodded. "All right."

She could see more of his truck in daytime—the interior cluttered with the belongings of someone who spent a lot of time in his vehicle—an extra jacket, a pack, a water bottle, coffee cups and gas receipts strewn about like confetti. "Where are you staying?" he asked as he turned out of the parking lot.

"I'm at the Ranch Motel."

"I would have thought the feds would spring for something a little more upscale."

"We're on a tight budget, like everyone else these days. But it's not bad. It's clean." She glanced in the side mirror but saw no one behind them.

"No one's following us," he said. "Don't be so paranoid."

Instead of arguing the point, she asked, "What did you order for dinner?"

"Special of the day at the Cakewalk Café—meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans."

"Just like Mom used to make?"

"Don't tell my mom, but this is even better."

He parked in front of the neat brick building with white lace curtains showing behind the mullioned windows. Inside, the older woman behind the counter greeted him with a smile. "Hello, Zach. Your order will be out in a few seconds." Then she fixed a questioning smile on Shelby.

"I'd like to get an order to go," she said. "Could I see a menu?"

"Of course." The woman handed over a menu, then left.

She opened the menu, and Zach looked over her shoulder. "It's all good," he said. "They do a great burger."

The woman returned. "Here you are, Zach," she said, and handed a bag over.

Shelby returned the menu. "I'll have the Cobb salad," she said.

"Sure thing. You can have a seat over there to wait." She nodded to a pair of chairs by the door.

She sat, and Zach settled beside her, the bag with his dinner in his lap. "Your food's going to get cold," she said.

He shrugged. "It's all right."

The door opened, and a woman entered. She was tall, her long blond hair in a single braid draped over one shoulder. She looked around and focused on Zach. "Well, hello there," she said, full lips curved in a smile. She moved closer and rested one hand on his shoulder. "It's so good to see you again."

"Oh, hey." He stood and set the bag with his dinner aside. "It's good to see you, too. How are you?"

"I'm well." Her gaze shifted to Shelby, blue eyes sharp and heavily lined with black liner. Shelby met the gaze but said nothing, even though there was no mistaking the woman's curiosity.

"Your order's ready."

The woman behind the counter summoned Shelby. She paid and collected her order. When she turned around, the blonde was even closer to Zach. "I'll see you later," she said, squeezed his arm and left.

"She didn't stay to eat?" Shelby asked.

Zach stared after her, looking a little dazed. "I guess not."

"Who is she?" Shelby asked.

"A woman I met on a rescue." He picked up his dinner and held the door for Shelby.

"What's her name?" Shelby asked when they were on the sidewalk.

"Janie."

"Janie what?"

"I don't know." He glared at her. "What difference does it make?"

"Where was the rescue?"

"It was that day at the flooded campground. She was one of the campers."

"The day Camille was killed." She still felt a chill at the words. Maybe she always would. "What was she doing here?"

"I don't know. Maybe she saw me through the window and came in to say hello. It was no big deal." He pulled his key fob from his pocket. "Let's go."

"She acted like the two of you were best friends."

"She did not."

"She couldn't stop touching you."

"Some people are like that. You're making a big deal out of nothing."

Maybe she was, but seeing Zach with the blonde had unnerved her. "I'm trying to be careful," she said. "You need to be careful, too."

"You're too suspicious," he said. "I can't live like that."

"You need to be more suspicious if the Chalk brothers are after you."

"Why would they come after me when all this time has passed?"

"You aren't worried that the person who killed your sister will come after you?"

He put the truck in gear and backed out of his parking space. "They don't have any reason to come after me."

"They don't need a reason. Maybe it's enough that your last name is Gregory." How could she make him understand that there were people in this world who were mean for the sake of meanness? They operated by their own code, and her job was to keep them from running over everyone who didn't live by the same code.

He said nothing else on the short drive back to his townhouse. His silence had the weight of anger behind it. The fact that he still didn't trust her hurt, but she couldn't let that interfere with the job she had to do. She slid out of the truck and stood beside him. "You may not want to believe it, but you could be in real danger," she said. "You have to be careful."

"I'll be careful," he said. "But I'm not going to spend my life hiding in my room. And I can't treat everyone I meet as if they're dangerous." Not waiting for an answer, he stalked away, toward his townhouse.

She didn't try to stop him. He wasn't in the mood to listen to anything she had to say. But she needed to make him understand that no matter how much he was used to trusting people, some of them were dangerous. And they didn't always reveal that dangerous side until it was too late. She wanted him to believe this, but how could he? He hadn't had her training. In spite of what had happened to Camille, he was still trusting. That was probably a good thing, but it meant she was going to have to work even harder to protect him.