Hidden

They wouldn’t let him in the compound.

Michael paced in frustration outside a tiny rural general store in Southeast Oregon. He’d decided the best way to approach Dave DeCosta’s mother, Linda, was to knock on the front gate and charm them with his disarming smile. Too bad a man had answered the gate.

Michael had bailed on his investigation of Frank Stevenson’s parents’ property. He liked Lusco’s angle better. Besides, Amy’s old boyfriend Matt Petretti hadn’t been much help. He’d been reluctant to talk about Amy in front of his wife, but had quietly answered Michael’s questions. The answers got him nowhere. Michael had been starting to wonder if his trip to Southeast Oregon was a big waste of time when Lusco had called.

Lusco had asked him to check out the location of that murdering son of a bitch’s mother. Lusco and Callahan wanted to ask where her other boy, Bobby, was. They were liking him more and more for the murders of the three men the Portland area. And for stalking Lacey.

Lusco was on to something. Michael could feel it in his gut.

The man at the religious compound’s gate had let Michael know in plain English and several “French” words what reporters could do with their keyboards. Reflecting back, Michael acknowledged that presenting his business card probably hadn’t been the best approach. Americans were fascinated with polygamy and religious cults. Reporters probably hassled these freaks all the time, searching for something to titillate the public.

The tight compound security had reminded him of Waco. High walls, fences, gates. From what he’d discovered with his research, one guy was king inside those walls. Overseeing his wives and children with total authority. A few other men lived there too. Given wives by the main man. One big happy family. Rajneeshees in their red pajamas popped into Michael’s mind. It’d been three decades since the cult had taken over the Big Muddy Ranch in Central Oregon and incorporated Rajneeshpuram. Then imploded.

This compound was way off the beaten path, far out in the boonies. It’d taken him an hour of driving to get to the place from Mount Junction. Now it looked like he’d come for nothing. Lusco was trying to get him some cooperation from local authorities but so far no luck. Michael had the feeling he was on his own.

He wanted inside that fortress.

Possibilities rolled through his mind as he paced in front of the store, breath steaming. What next? Waiting for people to leave the compound and following them was useless. He knew they wouldn’t talk to him.

How about someone who needed to get in? He rubbed his hands together in the cold. There had to be someone whose services were needed inside. A plumber, or maybe a delivery of some sort. He glanced up at the general store’s dusty sign. Did they make their own shopping trips or have food delivered? He shook his head. Probably shopped and grew a lot of their food in gardens. He hadn’t found much income traceable to the compound address. Economizing was probably a credo of theirs.

What else would they need from the outside world?

He watched a rusty cattle truck pass through town and a slow smile broke across his face. He’d smelled the livestock as he stood outside the compound. They probably had chickens, cows, dogs. They should need the services of a vet occasionally. He headed for the ancient pay phone outside the store and its dangling phone book that looked like it’d been printed during the disco decade. He swung up the thin book and looked under “V.”

He had to start somewhere.

Somewhere directed him to a farrier about thirty minutes from the compound. The vet, Jim Tipton, had hemmed and hawed over the phone when Michael pushed his case. He’d exaggerated a bit about his connections with the state police and was relieved to know the vet remembered the DeCosta killings. He could tell the vet wanted to help, but was uncomfortable with sneaking Michael into the grounds. Tipton was very familiar with the compound and he didn’t like the head honcho one bit. Said the man didn’t get proper preventive care for his animals and called for his services only when one was hurt or extremely ill.

Tipton also had a low opinion of the lifestyle.

He steered Michael to the farrier, Sam Short. Tipton said the farrier had an even lower opinion of the compound and would probably be thrilled to help. Thrilled? Tipton’s adjective stuck in Michael’s mind as he parked his rental and stared at the farrier’s elegant house with the gigantic horse stable and arena behind it. Why would he be thrilled?

Stepping out of his truck, Michael headed for the main barn and his eyes memorized every detail of the layout. What a setup. Had to be a couple of million dollars’ worth of land, buildings, horse hauling equipment, and horses. He detoured to a fenced pasture, leaned against a rail, and grinned as he watched six horses paw and frisk in the fresh powder. A dark horse with two white socks spotted Michael and trotted over to investigate. The horse blew hot breath through its nostrils at the hand Michael held out to him. After gently nibbling at Michael’s jacket sleeve, the friendly horse started to scratch his face on Michael’s elbow, rubbing his entire head up and down. Enchanted, Michael let him scratch away, patting the big head with his other hand.

“He’ll do that all day if you let him.”

The voice made him jump. His jump spooked the horse and sent it pounding back to its friends.

“Or not.”

Michael took an extended second to examine the speaker. Long wavy black hair was pulled loosely into two ponytails. Her jeans were dirty, along with her red snowy boots, but her fleece-lined royal-blue jacket was pristine. Her eyes matched her coat and he guessed her age to be around thirty. She crossed her arms on her chest and viewed him with suspicion.

“Michael Brody. Jim Tipton sent me out to talk to Sam Short. You know where I can find him?” He gave her his most charming smile, enjoying the colorful picture she made against the white frosty background. Lovely woman.

“Sam Short?” Those glaring eyes didn’t soften one bit. “You’ve found him.”

Michael’s gaze dropped to the embroidery on her jacket. Samantha Short. Short’s Stables.

He glanced ruefully at his own muddy, snow-covered boots. “Usually when I stick my foot in my mouth I prefer my shoes to be a little cleaner.

Lacey sipped at her triple latte, eyeing the two men in Alex’s kitchen nook. Jack hadn’t mentioned the bedroom incident and thankfully had worn jeans when he came to breakfast. She was having a hard time looking him in the eye. Talking to Alex was easier. She nervously peppered him with questions about his home and yard, receiving one-and two-word answers in return. Alex had made a Starbucks run, bless him. She was starting to like the silent man. He blew on his coffee as he leaned against the kitchen sink.

Jack finished a phone call with Detective Callahan and sat quiet, staring into his cup. He wasn’t showing any hangover signs. In fact, there was no hint he’d been drunk at all. This morning the tension between them had ratcheted up ten notches. He’d wanted her in bed with him. And she’d wanted to be there. The subtle heat low in her belly warmed a degree and she licked at her lips. The two of them were on an inevitable collision course. Why was she fighting it?

She could see the gears rotating in his mind from his talk with Callahan.

“They’re following a lead.”

“I hope they’re following lots of leads.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “They’ve located DeCosta’s mother in Southeast Oregon. They’re going ask her where her other son is.”

Lacey tried to call up an image of Dave DeCosta’s younger brother from the trial and couldn’t. All she could remember was a quiet dark-haired kid who’d kept his head down and stuck to his mother’s side. “He was just a kid at the time. Something was wrong with him. I can’t remember what the deal was, but the police pretty much wrote him off as an accomplice back then. Seems like the boy was mentally disabled or something. DeCosta worked alone. No family. No friends.” Her words were surer than her tone, as she considered the possibility. DeCosta’s brother had been younger than her, maybe fourteen or fifteen.

“Callahan has to consider the two of them for revenge kills.”

“Two of them? Mother and son?” She blinked. Back then, Linda DeCosta hadn’t looked like she could kill an ant. That woman could be a murderer?

Jack nodded, not volunteering any more information.

Lacey studied the set of Jack’s chin. He had that granite look about the jaw again.

He didn’t intimidate her. At least not when he was fully clothed, she amended. Jack could come across as pretty daunting, but he would never raise a hand to hurt her, she realized as she sipped her coffee. He might chew her out when she pissed him off, but never, never hurt her. A certainty she hadn’t had with her ex-husband toward the end of their marriage.

“Did he say anything about Kelly? Have they got any leads on her?” Lacey crossed her fingers.

Jack shook his head. “Nothing new. Hopefully getting to the DeCosta family will also help lead to Kelly.”

Lacey saw Alex glance at his watch. Jack stood up and pushed his chair in. He’d caught Alex’s time check too.

“Where are we going?” Lacey snapped the lid on her coffee.

“South of Hood River.”

“South of Hood River? On the mountain? Up in the snow?” She nearly dropped her paper cup. There wasn’t much between the city of Hood River and Mount Hood.

Jack lifted a single brow. “Snow’s everywhere right now.”

“Yeah, but...” She let the words drop off. She knew by now she couldn’t stop him when he’d made a decision. If he wanted to drive for an hour and a half in crappy weather up Mount Hood to even crappier weather conditions, more power to him.

“You going to the cabin?” Alex picked up the Macy’s shopping bag of clothing: their single piece of luggage.

“Cabin?” That sounded like no electricity or running water. Definitely not her kind of place. “Why a cabin? Isn’t there a hotel or something we could...?” Her question drifted as she caught the determined look in Jack’s eye.

“We’ve got a company-owned cabin up on the mountain. That’s where we’re going.”

“Why?” Finding her backbone, she held his stare. Please don’t mention composting toilets.

“Do you have a better idea? We both know we can’t check into a hotel. I don’t want to bring any of your friends or mine into something that could be dangerous.” He looked wryly at Alex. “Any more than I have.”

Alex shrugged.

“We’re going alone?” Her voice cracked. Just Jack and her in a small, isolated space...

Alex coughed. She scowled at him.

Jack leaned close and she caught a whiff of clean male. Her head gave a dizzy spin. He winked at her. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want me to do.”

Hot coffee dripped down her hand as she leaned back from Jack and caught her breath. She tightened the lid, more burned by his gaze than the liquid.

What did she want him to do to her?

Behind the tinted glass of Sam’s truck canopy, Michael bit his lip to keep from whooping out loud. The gate of the compound had swung open for Sam after she batted long, sexy eyelashes at the farmhand. Michael couldn’t hear what she’d said, but the farmhand looked smitten. Michael was too.

Sam Short had impressed the hell out of him. Once she’d given him a chance to explain his role in a hunt for a killer and why he wanted into the compound, she was firmly on his side. She’d asked a few sharp questions and made him wait while she placed a call to Lusco. She’d agreed to get Michael into the compound and then led the way through the barn to her truck at a fast pace, explaining that she made regular visits to the compound because of the large number of horses. Maybe the owner didn’t seek preventative care for his animals from the vet, but the head man wanted all the horses shod.

She’d kept up a running commentary on polygamy and cults as they walked.

“Blasted idiots. They brainwash the women. Tell them that polygamy removes the pressure on a husband to commit adultery.” Sam snorted. “She won’t lose her husband or security as she ages because he’ll just marry that younger and better-looking woman too. Someone to help out around the house.”

“Hmm. Multiple wives. Someone different to choose from every night. Every man’s dream,” Michael said slyly. He sped up his steps. The woman moved like she would kick ass in a speed walking competition.

“Ha! The men want you to believe that’s a hardship. Those men shake their heads and moan about how hard it is to manage such a large family. How hard it is to keep everyone happy. He has to prove he can support all his children equally before he can consider another wife. Boo hoo hoo.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.”

Sam stopped her march through the barn and turned to face him, hands on her hips. “I should. My dad had several wives.” She tilted her head and locked on his gaze, waiting to see what he’d say. Her blue eyes flashed and her lips thinned.

“Uh...” Her father? Foot in mouth again. Michael glanced around the luxurious stables. “How...”

She read his mind. “The stable and business belonged to my husband. Now it’s mine.”

“Does he have...? Are you...?”

She laughed sharply and spun around to continue her quick strides. “I’m the only wife. He didn’t believe in it, and neither do I. He died three years ago. Broke his neck in a fall from a horse.” She didn’t sound too sad about it.

Michael didn’t know what surprised him more. Her stack of personal revelations or the fact she was sharing them with a stranger. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but I’m not. Maybe he should have tried polygamy instead of ruining our marriage with affairs.” Her voice held a tint of restrained anger.

Michael had snapped his jaw shut. Could he say anything else wrong?

Hidden in the back of the truck, he wondered how it’d be to live with multiple mothers. Built-in babysitters, but more kids to watch. Extra hands in the kitchen, but more mouths to feed. More people to help with housework, but more people to clean up after and bigger homes to clean.

Sam grew up in that life?

Her truck came to a stop, knocking his head against cold metal. He peeked out a window and saw ratty barns and fencing that didn’t look strong enough to stop sheep, let alone horses. After visiting Sam’s beautiful ranch, anything else would look like the first little pig built it.

She opened the door on the canopy and gestured him out, glancing around. “There’s no one around right now. I wanted to hide you through the gate just in case the guy you had met earlier opened it. I’ll tell anyone else that you’re helping me out today.”

“If you don’t like these people, why do you do work for them?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Their money’s green. Besides, the only other farrier around here does a shitty job. For the sake of the horses, I like to make sure it’s done right.”

A true businesswoman.

Michael turned toward the house. Houses, he amended. Several single-and double-wide trailers were positioned in a staggered half circle around a snowy yard of play equipment. “Any idea where I might find the woman I’m looking for?”

Sam wrinkled her nose. “You said she was about sixty? What was her name again?”

“Linda.”

“Linda, Linda,” she muttered, pulling her eyebrows together. “That might be the one with the gray braid. She’s the oldest around here and doesn’t say much. I’d guess she’s been here about five years or so. Seems to spend most of her time in the kitchen or taking care of the tiny kids.”

“You’ve been in the house...houses?”

She nodded. “I collect my money in person before I leave. Actually, I collect the money in cash before I do the work. Jed ain’t too reliable if I mail him a bill.” She shot Michael an impish grin that made his stomach clench pleasantly. “He can’t stand seeing me widowed and successful. I’ve had my share of marriage proposals out here.”

“So how do I find Linda?”

“Follow me.” She took off at a fast pace toward the biggest home. He’d never met a woman who walked so fast all the time. Excess energy seemed to roll off her. She was confident, sharp, and smart. And gorgeous.

He trotted after her as if led by a carrot.

They hadn’t heard from Brody in two hours.

“I thought you told him to check in every hour.” Mason watched as his partner tapped at the computer. Mason couldn’t focus on his work, pacing the office, overdosing on coffee. He had to know what the mother said. Hopefully, her answers would specify the next step in their investigation.

“I did. On his last call he said he’d found a way to get in to see the mother but mentioned the cell reception in the area was lousy. Said we might not hear from him for a while.”

“Shit. I knew we shouldn’t have let him do this. If something happens to him...” Mason wouldn’t think about the possibilities. All bad. He pulled open his desk drawer and shook an empty Tums bottle. Damn.

“What’s gonna happen?” Ray pulled his bloodshot gaze from the screen to glare blearily at Mason. “It’s just the southeast corner of the state, for God’s sake. You afraid he’s gonna get bit by a snake?”

Mason didn’t answer. Instead, he eyed his chart of crisscrossed lines. Losing his job and pension was what he was afraid of.

“Wow.”

Lacey stared through the windshield of Jack’s truck. She hadn’t seen anything so gorgeous in her life. When Jack had said cabin, she’d pictured a little log A-frame with an outhouse.

This looked like a rich man’s getaway in Aspen. The place was huge. Surrounded on three sides by towering firs, the two-story “cabin” had four gables on the second floor and a wraparound porch. The pine-green roof and dark wood made the home look as natural as possible, blending into the setting. The fresh snow on the roof and ground was pristine, untouched. This was a cover of Sunset magazine

“It’s beautiful.” Lacey felt socked in the stomach. But in a good way. They were miles away from everywhere. Snow was lightly falling and the sky was growing hazy as a new storm blew in. She could live in a place like this. The beauty of the place momentarily disrupted her heartache for Kelly. She breathed deeply, trying to let go of her stress. She simply needed to let the police do their job and find Kelly. Her worrying wasn’t helping them succeed.

“It’s gonna be cold,” he replied. “No one’s been up here for a month and the thermostat is set real low. It’s going to take a while to warm up.

“Is there a fireplace? Can we build a fire?” She was having visions of a toasty fire with hot chocolate and richly colored Pendleton blankets. And snuggling with Jack.

Whoa. She could snuggle under a blanket by herself just fine. She shot a look at Jack, who was frowning at the darkening sky, and knew if they were under a blanket he wouldn’t settle for just snuggling.

Would she? Her stomach twisted pleasantly and she sighed.

“Yeah, there’s a monster of a fireplace. I’ll get a fire going. What’s wrong?”

She abruptly straightened, her eyes open. “Just tired.”

“Didn’t sleep good last night?”

Disbelieving, she examined his innocent face.

“As well as I could with a drunken bear snoring in my ear.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Wanna bet?”