Chapter 5

 

Rusty Caldwell was in the hot tub on the back deck of her Virginia town house with a glass of wine in one hand and a pimiento cheese sandwich in the other. When she’d first returned home, she’d slept for sixteen straight hours before making herself get out of bed, and then reality set in.

Since she hadn’t been home in days, no laundry had been done, and there was no food in the refrigerator. She was too sore to even think about going out, so for the past week, she’d shopped online and had the groceries delivered.

Being the loner she was had merits, but the downside was having no one for backup. Her mother had been gone for six years. She’d died from a heart attack, and her father died last year from cancer. Her extended family consisted of her dad’s brother, Ray, his wife, Patricia, and their daughter, Liz, who was five years younger than Rusty. The two families had never lived close to each other, and losing her parents had not changed that, so when Rusty needed downtime, she spent it alone.

This particular downtime was meant for healing and she was taking full advantage of it, soaking in the hot tub with a facsimile of cheese and wine.

The water was hot and bubbling, and she groaned with appreciation as she shifted position and took another bite, then chewed and swallowed before washing it down with another sip.

On a good day, she would not have taken food to the hot tub, or gulped wine like it was water, but this wasn’t a good day. She finished the sandwich in record time and emptied her glass, then leaned back and let the heat and the jets do their thing.

She’d been in a bad spot on this job and, not for the first time, had come far too close to being sent home in a body bag. The job was her life, and her life was the job. It was all she had going for her. There were no personal relationships. Not now. Not ever. But she was beginning to regret that.

She leaned back in the tub and closed her eyes, remembering the soldier boy and their one night long ago.

She’d never believed in love at first sight until him. Her biggest regret was not asking where he was from, or finding out his last name, and when she woke up the next morning and found him gone, she knew he’d taken part of her with him. So she buried herself in the job to the point of obsession, traveling wherever she was sent, pushing herself to the limits of endurance, always in the hope she’d see him again. Maybe in an airport or another hotel lobby.

She knew he’d been going back to a war zone. But she’d never let herself believe he died there. She always pictured him going home. She needed that fantasy—to believe he was still alive somewhere. Then when she was at the point of breaking from the loneliness of her life, she would dream of him again, and it would be enough.

Finally, the timer on the hot tub went off. She turned loose of wanting the impossible and climbed out, leaving wet footprints on the tile as she went back inside. The body aches were better. The hunger pangs had been momentarily assuaged, and she had sanctuary.

Hours later, she was caught up on laundry, paperwork, and bills, and was sitting cross-legged on the floor in sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee, scanning social media.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that her cheese sandwich and wine were long gone. So she reached for the phone, ordered her usual from the Chinese restaurant down the street, then went to the living room and refilled her wineglass. Two was her daily limit, and food was coming.

She settled herself into an overstuffed recliner and turned on the television, then scanned the channels for HGTV and settled in to watch a house being remodeled. It was mindless entertainment that required nothing but intermittent attention, which suited her mood.

When her order arrived, she carried it to the kitchen, opened up all the little boxes and filled her plate with some of everything, ignored the chopsticks and grabbed a fork before going back to the television to eat. It smelled divine, tasted delicious, and she ate with all the focus she gave to a weeklong stakeout.

She was down to breaking open the fortune cookie when her cell phone rang. One glance and her eyebrows arched. It was a call from her boss. She set the plate aside to answer.

“Good evening, sir,” she said.

“Good evening, Agent Caldwell. I trust you’re getting some rest.”

“Yes, sir,” Rusty said.

“I know you’ve just come off a stressful situation, and this is very short notice, but we have a problem. I understand you have close relatives who live in a place called Jubilee, Kentucky.”

“Yes, sir. My uncle and his family. The town is something of a tourist attraction. He runs a big hotel there.”

“And do they live there year round?” the director asked.

“They did. I assume they still do, but I’ve never visited them there. In fact, I haven’t seen them since I joined the agency. We stay in contact by texting and the occasional phone call.”

“I see. Well, we have this situation, and we need someone on-site. It’s strictly information gathering. No strenuous or subversive work. Nothing like your usual assignments. Just you on holiday, checking out the sights, and no one would be the wiser.”

Rusty stifled a sigh. When duty called, and all that. “Yes, sir. Of course,” she said.

“Excellent. You’ll be working with Special Agents Howard and Pickard out of the Frankfort office. Howard will be calling you with details of what’s going on, what they need, and giving you the lowdown on their case.”

“Yes, sir. Do you have any idea of when I am expected to arrive?”

“Probably yesterday,” the director said, and then chuckled.

“Then I’d better call Uncle Ray and let him know that his prodigal niece will be paying them a visit,” Rusty said.

She noticed the fortune cookie as she disconnected and broke it open. The moment she read it, a wave of foreboding washed over her.

An unresolved issue from your past awaits conclusion.

She’d had too many scary moments from her past, and bad people who’d escaped justice. The last thing she needed was a repeat of one of those. And she needed to call her family in Jubilee to see how they felt about an unexpected guest. She glanced at the time. Just after 9:00 p.m. Unless the family’s living habits had changed, their night was still young.

***

The nightlife in Jubilee was just beginning. Music venues were in full swing. The hotel bars were packed with people drinking and watching televised sports on big-screen TVs hanging from every wall.

The hotels with indoor pools were full of families and screaming children. If it hadn’t been for the soundproof walls in the penthouse above it all, Patricia Caldwell would have been on the next plane to New York.

Normally, she would have had her husband and daughter for company, but they’d gone to Frankfort for the award banquet. And because she was afraid of flying in helicopters, she was alone tonight.

She’d eaten dinner and was on her second chocolate martini with her feet to the fire and leafing through a magazine. Some people took a second helping of pie. Her desserts included alcohol. It seemed like a fair trade. But because of the cold weather tonight, she’d abandoned the balcony for the warmth of the gas logs. She was eyeing the hair color on a model in the magazine, wondering if she was too old to try something that outrageous, when her phone rang. She answered it, assuming it would be Ray or Liz, telling her they were on their way home.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Aunt Pat, it’s me, Rusty.”

Patricia’s boredom immediately shifted to joy. “Rusty! Darling! How wonderful to hear from you. How have you been?”

Rusty grimaced. “Wonderful” didn’t quite cover it. Her family knew she worked for the government in DC, but they thought she was a paper pusher, and that’s how she left it.

“Oh, you know! A little of this and that. How are Uncle Ray and Liz?”

“They’re at a banquet in Frankfort. Business, you know. They’ll be sad to know they’ve missed your call.”

“Actually, the main reason I’m calling is I’m on leave right now because of a wreck I had a few days ago.”

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Patricia cried.

“Luckily, yes. I’m just sore all over. Lots of trips to the hot tub, taking it easy at home. Stuff like that. But since this time off was doctor-recommended, I decided to use some vacation time, too. I was thinking about heading up your way. It’s been so long since we’ve actually seen each other, and you all are my only living relatives. I was wondering if—”

“Yes! Yes! You must come recuperate with us! It will be wonderful to see you again. We live full-time in the penthouse. It’s quite spacious and we have empty guest rooms just begging for company. I’m afraid there’s no airport here. The closest one is in Bowling Green, but we could pick you up.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I know there are heliports in Jubilee. I have access to helicopters whenever the need arises,” Rusty said.

Patricia shuddered. “Better you than me. I’ll get on an airplane and fly halfway across the world without blinking an eye, but I can’t even look at a helicopter without losing my mind.”

Rusty grinned. She’d forgotten how dramatic her aunt was, and then she realized Pat was still talking.

“At least let us know when you plan to arrive. We can pick you up,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t expect anyone to take care of me. I’ll have a rental waiting and drive myself to the inn. That way I can explore the town and the mountains at my leisure,” Rusty said.

“Whatever you wish, my dear. I just can’t wait to see you again,” Patricia said.

“I’m looking forward to the visit, and thank you for allowing me to invite myself. Have a good night, and I’ll be in touch with a day and time.”

“Of course. Safe travels and all that,” Pat said, and disconnected.

Rusty laid her phone aside and leaned back. She felt a little guilty about the deception of her reason for visiting, but she was looking forward to seeing them and curious to see if her cousin, Liz, had finally matured past her need to dominate center stage.

A couple of hours later, she got a phone call from Special Agent Jay Howard. After a lengthy conversation, he sent her files on the human-trafficking gang, what they needed from her, and contact information to keep them informed at every step. And in return, she got the chopper ride to Jubilee, saving her countless hours of flying and driving time.

***

Patricia broke the news to her family the next morning at breakfast. “Rusty called last night. She’s off work for a bit as she recuperates from a wreck, and said she was thinking of coming up this way to visit. Of course, I immediately invited her to stay with us while she’s in the area.”

Ray grinned. “That’s great news! We haven’t seen her in ages, but is she okay to travel?”

“Apparently,” she said. “At any rate, Liz and I will have all kinds of time to baby her.”

Liz frowned. “I don’t babysit.”

Ray gave his daughter a look. “I think you will find time to at least welcome her to our home and restrict your selfishness for the time she’s here.”

Liz gasped. “Daddy! I’m not selfish. I’m just not cut out for bedpans and bandages.”

“Oh, for the love of God, Elizabeth! She’s arriving via helicopter…on her own…hiring her own rental car, and simply spending time with us. Nothing is being asked of you other than to be kind and welcoming,” Patricia snapped.

Liz flushed. Her parents rarely disapproved of anything she did, and she’d obviously stepped on touchy nerves this morning, so she turned on the tears. “I am sorry I offended you,” she said.

“You should be,” Patricia said, and poured a little more syrup on her waffle to finish it off.

At that moment, Liz’s phone signaled a text. She glanced at caller ID, then stood. “Excuse me. It’s Michael,” she said, and left the room with her nose in the air.

Ray frowned. “Sleeping with the enemy,” he muttered.

Patricia rolled her eyes. “Michael Devon is not the enemy. His father owns a business we compete with, that is all. And who else would Liz associate with here? Jubilee, Kentucky, is hardly rife with people of her class.”

Ray frowned. “Money does not establish class. Behavior does,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going down to the office. You know where to find me if the need arises.”

Patricia sighed. She’d just irked her husband again, and she was alone. Then her mood brightened. Rusty was coming, and within the hour she received a confirmation text.

Arriving early afternoon tomorrow. Will text to let you know when I’m on the ground. Can’t wait to see you.

***

Michael had invited Liz to lunch, which meant sex for dessert, and she was going through her closet, trying to find something to wear. Finally, she chose one of her new winter sweaters paired with gray slacks and black ankle boots, and matching black lace lingerie to go under it all.

She liked Michael a lot. Sometimes she thought she was in love, but she always loved sex. He was slim and fit, and had thick blond hair with a tendency to curl, and pale-blue eyes that melted when she stripped for him. And he was the only son and heir to the Devon fortune. All check marks in Liz’s credit column. The only mark he had in Liz’s debit column was he didn’t have Cameron Pope’s bad-boy cachet, but Cameron didn’t know she existed, so there was that.

After giving herself a final look of approval, she left the penthouse and drove to the Hotel Devon then sent Michael a text.

I’m in the parking lot, starving for Cajun food and you.

Michael was just coming out of a meeting when he got Liz’s text. He read it as he walked, smiling all the way to the elevator. He could just as easily skip the shrimp and settle for extra time with Liz, but he knew his girl. She had a healthy appetite for food, for sex, and for life in general.

He wanted to marry her but he’d never asked. He’d felt her resistance to a commitment more than once, and Michael didn’t like to be told no, so he was biding his time and enjoying her company for now.

He approached the exit, frowning slightly when he saw her parked at the front entrance blocking the flow of traffic as if she owned the hotel, which was typical. But the smile she gave him as he came out of the building annulled his disapproval.

“Hello, you!” Liz said, as Michael got into her sports car, then leaned over and kissed her square on the mouth.

“Hello, you,” he said, and ran a finger up the inseam of her slacks.

“Ready and waiting,” she drawled, then laughed. “Buckle up, big man! Cajun Katie’s, here we come.”

Two hours later, they were naked as the day they’d been born and going at it like rabbits in one of Jack Barton’s tiny cabins. They always chose the one farthest from the main office, because Liz Caldwell had a tendency to scream when she came. Only this trip out, she’d had a little too much to drink with lunch, and her hidden fantasies about Cameron Pope turned into words spilling out of her mouth.

“Oh God! Oh God! Harder, Cam, harder!” she moaned. Then all of a sudden, everything stopped. Her eyes flew open. Her face flushed a dark, angry red. “Why did you stop? You ass! I was almost there!”

Michael was still inside her, hard and throbbing, but the look on his face suddenly scared her. “You bitch!” he whispered. “You cheating little bitch!”

Liz gasped. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t cheat on you with anyone!”

He grabbed her by the throat with one hand and squeezed just enough to make her choke.

“What’s the matter with you?” Liz shouted. “Why are you acting like this?”

“You called me Cam. ‘Harder, Cam, harder,’” he whispered, and then turned loose of her as if she was filth and rolled off. “Go fuck yourself, Elizabeth. My stud fees are too high for a whore like you.”

There was one moment of sheer terror, and then Liz countered with an assault of her own. She shoved him aside and leaped from the bed. “You’re an ass. A complete and utter ass! I said, ‘Harder, damn…harder!’ I don’t even know anyone named Cam.”

“You know Cameron Pope!” Michael shouted. “You talked about him twice during lunch!”

Liz rolled her eyes and began grabbing for her clothes and yanking them on.

“His name was mentioned regarding that horrendous kidnapping and the escaped prisoner incident, which, if you’ll remember, you brought up! You introduced the subject, not me! I just responded to the conversation, Michael Devon. And I’m over this. Put your dick back in your pants and get your shoes, or I swear to God I’ll leave you to walk back into Jubilee on your own.”

Now Michael was completely convinced he was wrong and started trying to backpedal. “Look, Lizzie, you have to see it from—”

Liz moved until she was only inches away from his face. “Nobody calls me Lizzie, and no, I don’t have to do anything! You look at my neck. If there are bruises there and Daddy asks, I’m telling him where they came from, understand?”

They dressed in silence, both of them reeling from the shock of what just happened. Liz had bluffed her way out of what she’d done, and Michael was groveling all the way out the door.

Liz slammed herself into the driver’s seat and drove Michael back to the Hotel Devon. He opened the door to get out, but then couldn’t bear to leave her angry with him. He reached for her arm and began pleading his case again.

“Liz, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just…I love you…and hearing that shattered me. Please forgive me.”

“Get out, and close the door!” Liz snapped. As soon as he did, she spun out on the pavement and never looked back.

By the time Liza got back to the penthouse, she found a note from her mother.

Gone shopping for Rusty’s arrival. See you at dinner. Mom.

Relieved she didn’t have to face her mother in this emotional state, Liz crumpled up the note, took a sleeping pill, and put herself to bed.

***

Cameron worked in his office all morning answering email. As CEO and the head of PCG Inc., it was his job to stay on top of the owners’ interests and to ensure their anonymity. The need to be wary all started when locals began offering their homemade goods for sale in Jubilee. It was a shock to everyone when the trade took off like fireworks, and when outsiders began flocking to the town wanting to buy property and get in on the opportunities, the landowners knew their only recourse was to band together and incorporate the joint land at the foot of the mountain.

John Cauley and Marcus Glass had been on the board for years as the representatives from their families, and Cameron’s mother, Georgia Pope, was the representative from the Pope family. But his mother’s sudden passing required another member of the Popes to sit on the board, and Cameron, newly home from Iraq, was voted in as their representative and then voted CEO by the board, giving him the job of liaison between PCG Inc. and their lawyer in Frankfort.

Cameron took the role seriously. It was important to everyone on the mountain that turning Jubilee into a tourist attraction did not destroy their way of life or the natural beauty of the surrounding area.

The hoteliers who’d come into the area years earlier thinking to buy up land from local hillbillies and make a killing had a rude awakening when they learned the land was already owned by a corporation. They didn’t know the corporation consisted of the people they looked down on. All they knew was land was not for sale, and if they wanted to build a hotel, they would pay a goodly sum of money for a one-hundred-year lease on a set number of acres. No more. No less. And they would pay the corporation a monthly percentage of their earnings. Like rent. If they ever decided to sell the business, then the new owners would have to renegotiate their own terms.

Ray Caldwell ranted against the restrictions, but the company lawyer based in Frankfort was firm. If Caldwell didn’t like the deal, he was free to build his hotel elsewhere. Just not in Jubilee. Ray knew there was big money to be made in a place like this, and he finally agreed.

Marshall Devon had his own come-to-Jesus moment when he was confronted with the same deal. Take it or leave it. But Marshall was a gambler, and he took it. The ensuing years had proved extremely profitable for all concerned, and the people on Pope Mountain appreciated the irony of being the anonymous landlords.

The individual businesses down in Jubilee were also housed in real estate owned by PCG Inc. And even though a majority of the businesses were owned and run by people from the mountains, they willingly paid “rent” and got their money back and then some through annual dividends. It was the best-kept secret in town.

***

Cameron finished the business end of his day just after lunch, then loaded Ghost up into his Jeep and drove to town so Sam Carson could check the dog’s paw and change the bandages. He was hoping the wait at the vet clinic wouldn’t take long. When he pulled into the parking lot, there were only two other cars. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Ghost sat up and looked out the windshield and then back at Cameron and whined.

Cameron chuckled. “Yes, Sam is going to mess with your paw, but I’ll be right there with you, buddy. Okay?”

Then he grabbed Ghost’s leash and clipped it to his collar before opening the door. Cameron was still restricting Ghost’s running and jumping, so he lifted the dog out and then walked him into the building and up to the front counter.

The receptionist looked up and smiled. “Afternoon, Cameron.”

“Afternoon, Amber. Ghost is here for an after-surgery exam and to get his bandages changed.”

“Have a seat. Doc Carson will be with you shortly.”

Cameron sat, and then Ghost sat down between Cameron’s knees, his ears up, his focus entirely on the girl behind the counter.

Cameron leaned over and patted Ghost’s head. “She’s one of the good ones, pal. At ease.”

Ghost went from sitting to lying down, but he wasn’t comfortable in this place and did what came natural—guarding the human he loved most.

After Sam checked out the injured paw and Leslie put on a new bandage, Cameron headed downtown to Granny Annie’s Bakery. He left Ghost in the Jeep and was on his way inside when he met Patricia Caldwell coming out carrying a large box.

Their gazes met, but before she could decide if she disapproved of the big man’s unshaven appearance, Cameron stopped and backed up. “Ma’am, let me get that door for you,” he said and held the door as she passed.

Patricia smiled. “Why, thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cameron said, and went inside.

He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the glass display cases and frowned. No wonder she’d given him a disapproving look. He looked like an outlaw. Scratches or not, it was time to get rid of the whiskers. But first things first. He headed to the display case to get cookies for Lili.

Annie Cauley was his mother’s youngest sister and the owner and head baker of the bakery. When she saw Cameron moving toward the cookie case, she wiped her hands and headed that way.

“Afternoon, Cam.”

Cameron smiled. “Hey, Auntie. I need some cookies for my best girl. Maybe some of those pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies. Make it a dozen so there’s enough to go around.”

“How’s she doing?” Annie asked as she began boxing up the cookies.

“Well, thanks to Uncle John for being the one to find the kidnapper’s abandoned car, we were able to find her in time. It was touch and go for a bit, but Rachel says she’s good. I haven’t seen her since they brought her home from the hospital. I’m on my way there now.”

Annie Cauley was proud of her husband’s part in the rescue.

“I told him afterward it was the hand of God leading him to it,” she said, and kept boxing up cookies, then put them on the counter and rang them up. Cameron paid, then leaned over the counter to kiss her cheek as he picked up the box.

“Thanks, Auntie.”

“You’re welcome, sugar. Give them all my best.”

Minutes later he was in the Jeep and headed out of town. He passed his drive on the way up to his sister’s house, but once he arrived, instead of Rachel it was Louis’s father, Marcus, who answered the door.

“Cameron! Good to see you, son. Come in, come in.”

“Did I come at a bad time?” Cameron asked.

“Not a bad time, but everyone in this house is asleep but me,” Marcus said, and chuckled. “Louis changed his shifts to days and so he’s gone, and I’m here until he comes home in case Rachel needs something.”

Cameron handed him the box of cookies. “Then I won’t stay. I brought Lili some cookies from Granny Annie’s Bakery, but there’s plenty for everyone. Give the girls my love.”

Marcus nodded. “I sure will, but are you sure you won’t come in?”

“Ghost is in the Jeep. We’ve been at the vet and I need to get him home.”

“Is he doing okay?” Marcus asked.

“Yes. His paw is healing. It’s just hard to keep him off it.”

“Understood,” Marcus said, and waved as Cameron drove away.

***

Rusty Caldwell was packing, but her mind was already on the info she’d received and the case she’d be working. She had a file and a photo of a man named Kevin Vanzant, and a photo and a file on Jack Barton, a man who owned a campground where Vanzant was staying. Human trafficking had become a lucrative business around the world, and she’d encountered aspects of this before. But abducting children to order was horrific from every angle. It took a special kind of evil to take photos of other people’s children, assemble them catalog-style for anyone willing to buy a child, then send someone to snatch them from their beds, like shopping for food off the shelves. It was black market—under the table, no questions asked—high-caliber theft.

She kept thinking of the harrowing rescue of the toddler Danny Biggers had kidnapped, and what might have happened if he’d gotten away with her. The details in the file indicated citizen participation in the hunt, and that a member of the child’s family, an uncle, had been vital to the retrieval. She wanted to find a way to meet and talk to him without giving herself away.

Biggers had finally given a statement after his capture, but it was sketchy. He might have said something to the man in the heat of capture that would be vital to their case, but turning a conversation with the uncle into a subtle interrogation could be tricky. She needed to run it by Howard and Pickard first to make sure they hadn’t already talked to him, so she stopped what she was doing and made a call.

***

Jay Howard was at his desk when his phone rang. He frowned when he saw caller ID. Caldwell wasn’t even on-site and she was already calling? He wondered what was up.

“This is Howard.”

“I have a question,” Rusty said.

“Shoot,” Howard said.

“I got the file on Vanzant and Barton, but what about the uncle who caught Biggers? Did you interview him when you were in Jubilee?”

“No. His name is Cameron Pope, and he’s the one who ultimately rescued his niece. You’re surely not suggesting he’d be part of the kidnapping?”

“No. I was thinking more along the lines of what transpired between him and Biggers before he left him tied to the tree. If I’ve understood Biggers’s priors, he already had a history with this family. So there had to have been words between them when Pope ran him down. Right?”

Howard was silent a moment, and then he sighed. “Good catch, Caldwell.”

“Thanks. My question is about the man himself. I’d like some background on Pope before I get there. Can you get something to me today?”

“Yes. I’ll do it myself. It was our miss. Give me a few.”

“Thanks,” Rusty said, and disconnected.

Howard immediately turned back to his computer and ran a background check on Cameron Pope. It didn’t take long for the info to come up, but when he saw the man was an army vet, he dug deeper and pulled up the history on his military service. “I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Howard muttered, and rocked back in his chair.

The man was a war hero. Two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Special Forces. Some serious commendations that could not be acknowledged due to national security, and the man had a security clearance equal to his own.

Howard printed out the info and hand-carried it down the hall to his boss. If Pope was willing, this could change the whole aspect of Caldwell’s presence.