Bait, page 3
She looked up and Liam gave her a small smile. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
**
Liam drove through downtown to her neighborhood. Caisey watched as offices and hotels rose and fell as they passed. The city was sunshine and busy people on the surface, but she knew what lurked underneath. What was hidden from most people was the evil that chomped its teeth on the innocent. Growing up here she’d only seen the shiny outer shell. Even as the daughter of a cop, she’d still been guarded from what lurked in the shadows. Until the day she met it face to face.
After that there was nothing she wanted more than to be FBI She’d spent just enough time working out of Salt Lake to figure out the kind of special agent she was, apart from her dad’s legacy with the Bureau. But the Denver she returned to was not the same city she remembered. This Denver was populated by crazies, murderers, rapists, liars and thieves. Then there were the people who worked to barricade regular folks from the tide of crime and evil that threatened to flood their cozy lives.
But at what price?
He pulled his SUV into her driveway. He put the car in park, but didn’t switch off the engine. Caisey frowned. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“I’m going home to sleep and then I’m going back to the office to type up my notes.”
“Okay.”
He held her gaze. “You’ll call me?”
She nodded.
“For anything?”
“I will.” She held his eyes until he knew she meant it. It didn’t matter whether she was bored of inactivity or it was two a.m. and she awoken in a sweat, tangled in the blanket.
She’d call.
“Are you going to sit there with one foot out the car all day?”
Chapter 4
One week later
“JACOB SAMUEL CARTWRIGHT get your backside in gear or you’re going to miss the bus!”
“I’m coming!”
Caisey flipped back the covers and grabbed her University of Denver sweatshirt. Her leg hurt like it was being poked with something sharp, but she’d quit the heavy drugs after the first few days. Too many injuries lead to bigger problems when you got hooked on narcotics. Caisey didn’t want to go there. Ever. She wanted her job back.
She hobbled down the stairs and reached the front door just as her sixteen-year-old godson was pulling on his gloves for school.
He looked up and grinned, his backpack over one shoulder. “Nice bed hair.”
Caisey put her hand on her hip, taking the weight off her leg. “And what’s this thing you’re doing with yours? Looks like you were mauled by a wild raccoon.”
Jake opened his mouth to fling back a retort.
“Children, play nice.” Jenna came out of the kitchen, her eyes on her son. “Have a good day at school.” She handed Jake a hot cup.
Caisey grinned. “Yeah, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Jake snorted. “Later.”
The door shut and Jenna turned to her. “Why do you two have to bicker like that all the time?”
“He started it.”
“You’re such a child.”
“And you’ve been my best friend since sixth grade. What does that say about you?” Caisey swept past Jenna into the kitchen. The coffee pot was warm, but empty. “Did Jake drink all the coffee again?”
“I gave him the last of it. It’s cold outside and I didn’t want him to catch a chill.”
“You’re such a mom.” Caisey put the empty carafe in the sink and turned on the water.
“And you’ve been my best friend for two and a half decades. What does that say about you?”
Caisey laughed. She got coffee grounds on the counter, but when she saw the pot start to sputter she sighed.
“I heard you down here in the middle of the night.”
“I needed a drink of water.” To wash away a bad dream. “Did I wake you?”
Jenna’s brown eyes darkened. “Do I look like I care that you woke me up? I care that I had to text Andrea, only to find out you were abducted.” Her voice got louder and louder until she was practically shouting.
“Keep it down.” Caisey hissed the words. “Grams will hear you.”
Jenna waved her hand. “She has all her friends over for Bible study. The door is closed.”
“She does?”
“They meet here every Monday.”
Caisey frowned. “Why didn’t I know that?”
“Probably because you either run or you hit the gym at oh-good-grief-a.m. and you’re out the door for work before seven thirty. Don’t think we aren’t going to discuss this.”
“Do not use the ‘mom’ tone on me. I’m not your teenager. It was a good idea. It worked. The end.”
“And your leg?”
Caisey shrugged. “I got stabbed.”
“I don’t believe this! What kind of job are you doing that you get kidnapped and your partner lets you get hurt?”
“Jenna, yikes—”
“Do not give me the brush off. This is me you’re talking to, Caisey.”
“It was a delicate situation.” Caisey got a mug down. “I’m fine.”
“You better be.”
Caisey dipped her chin. They were the same height, but Jenna had freckles on her tiny nose and ate spinach with everything. If Caisey was as brave as her, she’d have her hair cut in that cute bob and get the ends dyed pink like Jenna’s.
“My leg is sore and other than needing to take a couple of painkillers every few hours, I’m fine.”
“You weren’t going to tell me any of this, were you?”
“Nope.”
Jenna sighed. “Are you really okay?”
Caisey nodded. “Promise.”
“Good, because replacing a best friend of two and a half decades would be a pain in the-you-know-where.”
“So you’re saying I’m irreplaceable?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, I just said it would be difficult.”
Caisey grinned. “You have work today?”
Jenna got a mug from the cupboard. “First client is at ten and then I have a full roster of acrylics and facials until four thirty. It’s not taking down serial killers but it’s mine. Jake has band after school so we decided on pizza. Plain cheese for Grams.”
Caisey got the chocolate milk from the fridge and splashed some into both cups. “I’ll be here. Why don’t I cook something?”
A nervous noise emerged from Jenna’s throat. “We’ll get pizza.”
**
After she forced down a slice of toast, Caisey poured herself more coffee and hobbled to the other end of the house with her cell in her pocket. Someone at work might have a question about one of her open cases.
She hoped.
The twittering of little old ladies got louder as Caisey walked the hall lined with pictures of Grams and Grandpa. Her favorite was their wedding picture, where Grams wore her British nurse’s uniform and Grandpa Thomas his US Army uniform outside the little church in Dover where they were married.
Caisey peered around the doorframe. They were all tiny and wrinkly, with bright eyes and easy smiles, except one.
Sarah, who was maybe in her forties, sniffed and pressed a balled up tissue to her nose. “I hate him so much for doing this to me.”
Grams reached over and touched the woman’s knee. Sarah was in her forties, but Grams said everyone under seventy was a baby. “I was a nurse in France during World War Two, you know that.”
Sarah nodded.
“What you don’t know is that a group of German soldiers attacked me.” Several of the ladies gasped. “My Thomas was the one who found me. As I healed, that despair turned to anger and anger turned to hate until I was consumed with it.”
“What did you do?”
Grams exhaled. “My Thomas took me to church. Threw me on his shoulder and carried me through the door kicking and screaming. I’m glad he did.” She chuckled. “I thought I deserved justice, like I’d earned the right to it. As though I had more of a right than anyone else back then to feel hard done by.”
Caisey leaned her head back against the wall and looked at the ceiling. The line where it met the wall was blurred. Didn’t matter how many times she heard the story, it always cut right to her heart. She blinked and a tear ran down her face.
The doorbell rang.
Caisey wiped the tear away and limped over to answer it.
The man at the door had a white minister’s collar above the buttons of his wool coat and his dark hair was capped with a brown Fedora. There was no smile. Average height. Average features. Meant to blend in and go unnoticed.
“Help you?”
He nodded. “I’m looking for Samuel Lyons. He’s a Special Agent with the FBI. I’m told he used to live here.”
“He did.”
“I would have gone to the Denver office, but this is a personal matter.”
Caisey winced. “He’s—” kind of, sort of, “—dead.” She swallowed. “And you are?” “Oh…Patrick South, I’m the prison chaplain at Florence.”
The Federal Penitentiary?
“I’m Samuel’s daughter. He died four years ago.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss.” He didn’t look sorry. He looked inconvenienced.
“What’s this about?”
Patrick the Chaplain reached in his pocket. Caisey’s hand planted on her hip, where her sidearm would have been—if she was at work. Right now it was in her bedroom and she was on the doorstep in her socks.
He produced an envelope. “Under the circumstances I was given permission to hand- deliver this.”
Caisey read the name of the sender. Toben Carlen. Even written in ink it brought a rush of heat that lit up the world like a flash of lightning. Seeing the name made everything a little righter and cleaner than it had been that morning, knowing he was behind bars all this time right where he should be.
The letter was addressed to Gabe Carlen, a name that birthed an altogether different reaction in Caisey.
It was the case that made her father’s career.
And killed him.
She looked up. “You should come inside.”
Patrick the Chaplain perched on the edge of the couch. Caisey didn’t offer him a drink. She just sat so the coffee table her father had built was between them. He’d said woodworking cleared his mind of the things he saw every day as an FBI agent. Caisey hadn’t figured out what she needed to do for that and she’d been an agent nearly eight years.
She tapped the letter against her good knee, trying to ignore her leg. “Tell me about him.”
Patrick blew out a breath. Apparently prison inmates were a comfortable topic. “He’s a troubled man, that’s always been the case. Although lately he’s begun to change. Whether or not it is genuine remains to be seen. Toben has much cause to regret, if the things he’s told me are true. But he wishes to make amends.”
Caisey swallowed. She needed to see what he wanted. “Why come looking for my father to deliver Toben’s letter?”
The chaplain shrugged. “He felt it was a natural place to start. Though Toben evidently did not know your father was no longer of this earth.”
“Shot in the line of duty.”
“Was he a man of faith?”
Caisey hitched one shoulder. “You could say that.” She wasn’t going to go there. Not with a stranger. “What does Toben want?”
“To make amends with his son. And if there was anyone who might know Gabe’s whereabouts, Toben assures me it would be your father.”
Caisey worked her mouth. “Why now?”
There was a moment of quiet, then, “He was recently diagnosed with terminal lung cancer.”
“Facing his own mortality, he suddenly gets religion and needs to right every wrong?” Caisey stood. “Thank you for coming. I’ll take care of this.”
By burning the letter.
“Ms. Lyons—”
“It’s Special Agent Lyons.” She lifted her chin. “And even if I had the first clue how to find this—” She glanced down at the addressee’s name like she didn’t know who he was. “— Gabe, person. What makes you think I would destroy his peace of mind and whatever life he’s built for himself just because dear old dad had a change of heart?”
“Surely with your resources—”
“That’s not going to happen.”
The chaplain sighed. “I will admit that often in these situations the conversion is…less than genuine. But I don’t believe that to be the case here.”
“Do you believe it strongly enough to risk a man’s life?” Caisey’s nails dug into her palms. “This case destroyed my father. If staying out of it now means that I fail to respect the wishes of a permanent resident of Florence Maximum Security Penitentiary, then so be it. I’ve got a family to protect.”
“Forgiveness isn’t something we can do in and of ourselves, Special Agent Lyons. It is a divine gift and an act of faith.” His eyes flicked back and forth across her face. “Did you know your name, Lyons, refers to a fierce and brave warrior? A defender of those unable to defend their own. Be careful that you do not protect them so thoroughly that they never learn courage for themselves.”
Caisey walked to the door and held it open. “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but…”
“Of course.” The chaplain replaced his fedora. “Good day, Ms. Lyons.”
Caisey closed the door behind him and rested her forehead against the wood.
Would it really be such a big deal if she went into work? She could do some paperwork. The house was too eerie during the day, like it had been back when she’d come home from school and there was no one home yet. Before Jenna’s parents kicked her out and she came to live with them.
“You all right there, ducky?”
Caisey backed away from the door. “Yeah, Grams.”
Elenor Lyons was five feet on her tiptoes. Her white hair was tied back and she wore a pair of gray slacks with a crease ironed down the front topped with a peach colored sweater set and a flowery scarf.
“You looked wistful for a moment.”
Caisey shrugged, glad Grams hadn’t seen the complete and utter dread she felt at being home for another week with nothing to do.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Grams motioned to the letter.
“Nothing really.”
Grams snagged it and read. “Who’s Toben Carlen?”
“No one.”
“And there’s a lot more to that story, but you can’t tell me.” Grams smiled. “Let’s take the family out for dinner.”
“So long as it’s not an early bird special.” Caisey mock-shivered. “Old people freak me out.”
Grams laughed. “Me too, ducky.”
Chapter 5
CAISEY WIPED BARBEQUE sauce from her fingers and set the napkin on her empty plate. Liam had tagged along to dinner, bringing his girlfriend Andrea with him. It was hard to believe it was only a few weeks since they first met, when Liam had seen Andrea’s sister being abducted. They’d been through a lot, but come out of it with a relationship that had a strong foundation of shared faith and weathering the stress that brought them together.
Caisey caught Andrea’s gaze across the table and said, “How are your parents doing?”
Andrea winced. “Not great. They weren’t that close with Sunny, but since her body was found it brought all the old stuff back up. I should have helped her more, got her into rehab or something.”
Liam squeezed her shoulder, his thumb tracing the tendon in Andrea’s neck. She smiled at him. At the other end of the table, Grams had ear-bud headphones in and was laughing at something on Jake’s phone.
Caisey took a deep breath and smiled at the picture her partner and his girlfriend made. “Are they talking to anyone?”
“I had hoped to get them into some kind of counseling.” Andrea sighed. “I know they need help, but they won’t talk to me.”
Liam drew her close. “It’ll take time.”
“I know.”
“That’s what I figure too.” Caisey didn’t want to admit the abduction had scarred her, but she didn’t mind sharing some of what the shrink had told her. “Not that it’s helpful when you’re in the middle of it.”
Time dissipated the effects of most things, or so she’d learned. And yet the slightest thing could bring it all rushing back—the smell of dirt, or a man’s cologne—to the place where Caisey could feel the slam of fists and the fire of pain in her ribs and her face.
Now it was the pain that came when she moved her leg too fast.
Jenna leaned close. “Are you okay?”
Caisey looked at the table at large and the assessing eyes that preferred to see strength in her, not weakness. “Jenna and I joined a dating service.”
Noise erupted. Except for Jake who looked like he was about to throw up.
Caisey grinned. “Although I’m holding out for a couple of Bronco’s players so we can double date, I’ll be scouring the hordes of men that no doubt flock to us when they hear we’re on the market.”
Grams clasped her hands in front of her, a smile on her face.
“We can triple date!”
Liam shot a horrified look at Andrea.
Jake’s eyes were so wide it looked like they were in danger of falling out of his head. “I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me anything. I don’t want to hear any of it.”
Caisey smirked. “Wh-y.” The word was high-pitched and three seconds long. “You could join us. We’ll make it a family event, that way we can see who you’re spending time with and you can check out who’s got their eye on your mom. Sounds perfect if you ask me.”
Jake clapped his hands over his ears. “La la la la la la, I’m not listening to you talk about my mom man-hunting.”
“Jake!”
Caisey laughed. “Well, at least the kid isn’t emotionally scarred by the thought of sharing your attention. Or, he’s not emotionally scarred by that, at least.”
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