Silent Sins (Redemption Creek Romantic Suspense Book 4), page 1
SILENT SINS
REDEMPTION CREEK ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
EDIE JAMES
CONTENTS
Books by Edie James
Copyright page—Redemption Creek
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chap 51: Epilogue
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Rising Seas
Rising Wind
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Redemption Creek Romantic Suspense
Hidden Sins
False Sins
Killer Sins
Deadly Sins
Silent Sins
Deadly Sins
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1
“What do you mean you’re shutting down the investigation?” Fists on her hips, Special Agent Avery Ellis glared at her supervisor. “That trucking company is dealing in stolen goods. Or counterfeits. Or both. We’re talking on an international level, Ryan. My contact was killed for giving me that lead.”
As usual, Avery’s SSA—Supervisory Special Agent—Ryan Goshiro, remained unperturbed. He eyed her placidly over the top of his computer monitor and shrugged. “Your contact had a heart attack. I’m sorry the timing was crummy, but that’s about the only sinister thing going on here.”
“Heart attacks can be induced.”
Ryan leaned on his elbows and rolled his eyes. “In spy novels. The Bureau likes to live in the real world. It doesn’t take a lot of explanation, Avery. You’re done. Orders from up top.”
“But—”
He raised a hand, stopping her. “I’m not saying there’s nothing to investigate with this trucking company. You can circle back to it later. For now, I’ve been ordered to redirect agency resources to more compelling cases. End of story.”
“What about the two other deaths? You can’t tell me three deaths in two months are a coincidence.”
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I have told you that. Several times.” He fixed her with a long look. “Give it up, Avery. I’m shutting this down. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to listen.”
No. She didn’t.
His eyes narrowed as if he could see her brain working. “You’re an excellent agent. If you’d just learn to be a team player, you could have a great career. Don’t blow this.”
Like your father did.
She heard the words as clearly as if Ryan had said them out loud.
Officially, Averson Ellis was a hero to the Bureau, an agent who gave his life to save fellow law enforcement officers. But the backstory was far more complicated. Her father was a hero to his fellow agents, but to the higher-ups, the men and women who rode desks, he was despised. Because he’d saved those officers by going rogue.
The instant she earned her badge, Avery had looked through his file.
Works outside the system.
Unwilling to adhere to standard protocols or commands.
Resistant to input from superiors.
The list ran on, using countless other ways to say the same thing: her father had been a burr in the system’s backside his entire career. And then he died in the line of duty.
She hadn’t planned on following so closely in her father’s footsteps, but five years into her own stint with the Bureau, she understood. Ryan could have written those words about her.
Sometimes rules interfered with seeking justice.
She’d prayed on it long and hard, but the answer kept coming up the same: she could do what was right, or she could be a “good” agent.
The answer didn’t require much thought, let alone prayer.
Ryan shoved his keyboard away and jumped to his feet. “Don’t do this, Avery.”
She raised her hands, palms out in a gesture of surrender. “If the case is closed, it’s closed. For now.”
Ryan seemed to be weighing her words. “Okay. I’m not saying it’s forever. Just for now. Priorities change. You know that. As our workflow changes, we can circle back to this. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. Three men are dead.”
Her supervisor wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and squeezed. A vein pulsed in his temple. She was pushing him hard, but at this point, she didn’t much care.
“Natural causes, Avery. All of them. Did you read the ME’s reports?”
She had. And her intuition was still screaming. But Ryan had read them too.
Arguing would get her exactly nowhere. She blew out a breath. There had to be options.
“You’ve got a zillion hours of vacation time,” Ryan pointed out. “Take some.”
“Soon,” she promised.
“Now.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. “I’m serious. Get out of the office for a couple weeks. Things’ll look a lot better once you’ve toasted yourself on a tropical beach. You need the break.”
More like he and her fellow agents needed the break from her.
Fair enough.
But the thought of taking time off—doing nothing—when she knew more people could die …
Not. Gonna. Happen.
Her lips parted, but she caught herself before she could dig a hole she’d never be able to climb out of. Instead, she nodded. “You have a point.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Best to do this now, before she changed her mind. She tapped a finger on the edge of his desk. “You win. Let’s make it official. As of ten seconds ago, consider me on vacay.”
Ryan’s lithe frame sagged in relief. “You got it. I’ll even do the paperwork for you.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Get gone, Agent Ellis. I don’t want to see your face for at least two weeks. You hear me?”
Avery turned on her heel, waving at him from over her shoulder. “Loud and clear, sir.”
“Avery?”
His sharp tone stopped her in the doorway.
“Keep your head down. The owners of Rain Bay hang with some bad people. You and I know you’re off the case, but Rain Bay Trucking doesn’t. Do yourself a favor and pick a beach in another time zone.”
“Sure. I appreciate the warning.” She shut the door behind her on the way out, the gears already turning.
2
Two days later
Mason Ortiz powered through another set of shoulder presses, gritting his teeth as he pushed the heavy weights skyward. The strain burned through his muscles, a welcome distraction from his dark mood.
November winds whistled through the canyon outside the open doors of the headquarters’ gym, the biting chill foretelling the winter on its way. Winter came early in the Eastern Sierra, especially to the small towns like Redemption Creek that butted up against the soaring granite mountains. But inside, Mason built up a hard-earned sweat.
Anything to outrun his melancholy. It wasn’t like him to mope, but ever since Bridger and Jane’s wedding last month, he’d been kinda down. Strange, because he was stoked for his teammate. There was no doubt Bridger had found his soulmate. Everyone on the team, Mason included, was thrilled for the couple.
And yet their happiness seemed to add to the empty ache in his own heart. Seeing Tai with his arm around his new love, Tenaya, didn’t help. Again, Mason was stoked for the guy, but seeing his bros start coupling up was … weird.
The fact that he was even thinking about this kind of stuff was weirder still. He didn’t do feelings. Didn’t do romance or flowers or any of that mushy stuff. No Ortiz man did.
Mostly because they were so bad at it.
He was still in his twenties when he’d decided he’d stick to things he excelled at: soldiering and fighting and firearms. Stuff that required hard work, mental toughness, and a penchant for ignoring any kind of feeling, physical or otherwise.
He gripped the dumbbells harder, lifting faster, trying to burn away the feels, and prayed to the Lord to send them a new mission. Too much downtime made him crazy.
His watch buzzed on his wrist. Again. And again, he ignored it.
It was his brother’s new number. He’d just talked to Paul a couple weeks ago, when his estranged brother called with news of his new diesel mechanic job. Mason was relieved the guy had finally landed an actual grown-up job for once, but that didn’t mean Mason was ready to be best buds.
Paul had a lot of growing up left to do before he’d let him back into his life. Plus, talking to his brother wasn’t going to help his lousy mood. Only time and prayer and a whole lot more sweating would do that.
His watch buzzed again. Mason gritted his teeth. When Paul wanted something, it had to be now.
Tai Kaholo, his teammate, and the only man in the gym who could outlift him, eyed him over a hefty barbell. “You gonna get that?”
Mason tensed his abs, hefting his own weights higher. “Haven’t decided yet.”
Tai shot him an odd look but stayed silent. Good man. Mason didn’t want to talk about his failure of a brother right now. Or ever.
Paul was the one sore spot in his life, a constant disappointment. This new job could be the start of a new life for Paul, but only time would tell.
Mason finished his workout, pointedly ignoring the phone. Four calls. Then five. He toweled off sweat at the back of the open gym when Graham, their mentor and latest teammate, strode over and shoved the phone into his hands.
“Call your brother,” the older man insisted, expression brooking no argument. Before Mason could respond, Graham walked away, pausing at the door to mime “call now” before disappearing.
Mason stared down at the phone, anger simmering. He was a trained operative, a battle-tested SEAL. So why did the thought of calling his loser brother tie his guts in knots?
Whatever the reason, Paul was not going to go away. Not the guy’s style.
He lifted a quick prayer, asking his Savior for patience, and jabbed at the voicemail icon, steeling himself.
His brother’s confident drawl came over the line. “Yo, my man. You’re one hard hombre to get ahold of. Listen, I need your help. Wait. Don’t hang up. It’s not what you think. I mean yeah, I’m in trouble, but it’s not my fault. Really. I’m …” The confident voice faded, returning as a frightened whisper. “It’s my new job. There’s something really wrong going down here. I need your expertise, bro. I feel like this could get dangerous. Call me. Please?”
It was the please that did it. Paul lied and cheated and blustered. He never begged.
Mason hit redial.
His brother answered on the first ring. “Can’t talk now, Mason,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of air wrenches and clanging metal. Then Paul continued louder in hearty dude-speak, clearly intending to be overheard. “Bro! It’s been a minute. Can you make it tonight?” He paused, as if listening to Mason’s reply. “Great. We’re hanging at the Triple T. Probably around seven. Come hungry. They’ve got the best steaks in Seattle.”
Mason clenched and unclenched his fist, eyes on the jagged peaks piercing the hard blue sky. Whatever Paul was in the middle of, it was bad.
“Triple T, Seattle. Seven p.m.” Mason repeated the instructions, studying his watch. Kate or Tai would be available to fly him out. They kept the Pilatus ready to roll down the runway at a moment’s notice, and they had no current missions. A three-hour flight time, max, in their private jet. “I’ll be there,” he added. Paul was showing his tell—the empty boasting. Mr. Confidence was running scared.
“You won’t be sorry,” Paul insisted, his voice rich with fake heartiness. “Bring your A game. The way I’m running the pool table lately, you’re gonna need it.”
Alarm bells clanging in his head, Mason stared at the blank screen. The sweat dripping down his sides cooled fast in the autumn chill. He’d never heard his brother so frantic. And his final warning was exactly that: a warning. Code from when they were kids.
“Bring your A game,” meant prepare for trouble.
Back in the day, trouble meant a showdown with angry football players Paul had conned out of money. Or as Paul got older and into deeper trouble, helping him escape a confrontation with the local cops.
Whatever the issue, his brother needed help.
Mason glanced outside at the bright fall sky, resigned. Rescuing his trainwreck of a baby brother was his specialty. Even when it killed him.
He sank down on the bench in the locker area and called out to their virtual Wi-Fi assistant, asking for a Seattle weather report.
“Rain, Pilgrim,” came the reply in the deep John Wayne drawl their cyber expert, Paige, thought was so hilarious. “Then drizzle and more rain.”
Mason glanced at the blue sky visible through the open gym doors. Rain. It figured. With Paul nothing went right.
3
Somewhere behind the thick mass of dark clouds the sun would be thinking about setting. Which meant the workers in the Rain Bay warehouse on the other side of the vast parking lot would head home soon. And Avery could grab that hot shower she’d been dreaming about for the last hour.
She lay prone on the roof across the street, binoculars trained on the single parking lot exit across the way. Rain drizzled down, trickling along her arms where it slipped under the sleeves of her rain slicker. She shifted, the tarpaper digging into her elbows.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text. Keeping the binoculars steadied, she awkwardly fished the device from her pocket. A text from Ryan.
U having fun yet?
Avery rolled her eyes even though no one could see her up here. She texted back.
Totally.
Not technically a lie. Doing her job brought her satisfaction, as did seeking justice however she could. Even if it meant suffering cold and wet on this rooftop stakeout.
Ryan responded with a string of thumbs-up emojis.
Good girl.
Avery grimaced. Ryan wouldn’t be nearly so enthusiastic when he discovered she’d ignored his command to stand down. An airtight case against these trucking crooks would help smooth things over.
Three employees of Rain Bay Trucking had died in the past two months. Healthy guys in their thirties and forties. The company called it coincidence, and Ryan agreed, but Avery knew better. A car accident, a drowning, and a sudden heart attack. In men with no risk factors in their medical files.
The last man to die, Rafael Pereira, had come to see her not a week before his supposed heart attack. He’d contacted her through a friend of a friend of an old neighbor, deeply worried about the new job he’d taken at a Rain Bay Trucking facility. The pay was great, but he soon realized the incoming trucks carried illicit cargo. He didn’t have many details yet, but he was terrified. He wanted to walk away, but he feared for his life.
She’d gotten supervisory approval to start a preliminary investigation, but before she could dig up anything, Rafael was dead. That’s when she uncovered the other two deaths.
