Ashes and Bone (22 page)

Wyatt Booth had the confidence to smile when Cage entered the room. “My attorney is flying in from Maryland. He’ll be here in a couple of hours. I won’t be speaking to you until then.”

“That’s fine,” Cage said. “We can hold you for twenty-four hours anyway. But I don’t understand why an innocent man would wait for his lawyer.”

“I’m not a fool, Investigator.”

“I know.” Cage smiled back, making himself comfortable in the straight-backed chair. “You’re a powerful man. You’ve spent years building up your business. But we’ve got Dylan Asher’s word against yours.”

“I heard he admitted he set the fire,” Booth said. “What do you think a defense attorney is going to do with that?”

“I’m sure one employed by the Dixie Mafia will have a lot of fun with it.”

Booth didn’t react, his steely gaze fixed on Cage. His impassivity was as good as a confession.

“See, we know you conspired with the mayor to get the Semple land zoned commercial. Not because you want to build a resort but because you want to drill for natural gas. That’s big money. Makes a lot more sense than some off-the-road resort.”

Booth shrugged. His eyes were hard as ice.

“Of course, all that’s secondary to me. I’m much more interested in your murdering Ben Moore.”

“That poor man hung himself. Couldn’t face the trouble he was in, I guess.”

“No, you got sloppy,” Cage said. “You should have injected him with the fentanyl in a less obvious place. The coroner found the mark on his arm. A medical examiner certainly would have. But I suppose you figured the body wouldn’t be examined until it got to Jackson, which gave you time to get everything lined up.”

This time, an involuntary twitch in Booth’s jaw. Still, he didn’t engage.

“Here’s what we know,” Cage said. “Ben Moore got mixed up with you. You found out about Memory Lane Antiques, and being the entrepreneur you are, you wanted a piece. Ben got tired of your threats, and I think he regretted helping you with the Semple purchase. But he was a coward at heart, so instead of coming clean, he finds some pictures he took of you on the property—likely knowing he might need them as insurance—and sends them to Nick Samuels as an encrypted file. Nick starts researching the fakes, finds out about your mafia connection. You find out what Ben’s done. You have Nick snatched and take care of Ben yourself. Now, if you tell us where Nick is, the district attorney might go easier on you. I can’t speak for the FBI, though. They’ve been looking at you for a long time.”

“Sounds like wonderful fiction to me.”

“Oh no, this is nonfiction.” Cage flashed his own confident smile. “Live action. And remember, we’ve got Stanley in another room. He strikes me as the sort who will talk for the right deal. Not to mention our mayor. Gina will get him to fold in an hour. His backbone’s about as strong as a baby’s.”

Booth licked his lips. “I assure you, I know nothing about the reporter. I wasn’t even in town.”

“No, but you’ve got the contacts. Timed your arrival perfectly. By the way, we’ll find out you were actually visiting Carl Gilbert at the prison. What were you telling the warden? Making sure the man didn’t speak with the FBI? Or just greasing him in case you needed him for something later?”

“You really should be a storyteller, Investigator.”

“We’re getting a search warrant for Ashland, as well as for your personal property. Including your plane. We’ll find what we need.”

Cage stretched out his legs. “You know what’s funny to me? Here you are, at the top of the Dixie Mafia, feeling invincible. I bet you thought this little town was going to be an easy take. Just like all the others. And yet its people are going to knock you off your throne. Funny how life works sometimes.”

Booth shifted in the chair, a pain-filled expression twisting his features. Breathing deeply, he stretched out his right leg.

“What’s the matter? Use up your last patch on Ben?”

Booth gritted his teeth. “As I said, I’ll be waiting for my lawyer.”

“Sounds good. I’m sure the FBI agent will be here by then. The agent was twenty minutes out last time I checked.”

He let the door slam behind him. That had gone exactly as he’d expected. Booth was too good to fold easily. Cage could have pressed, could have brought up the project manager’s death, but he’d thought better of it. Much as he hated to give anything to the Feds, they had jurisdiction, and they had a lot more pressure points to use. Besides, sweating it out in jail a while would do a man like Booth some good.

Gina was already in her office. “Mayor’s singing like a bird. Started crying. He’ll cooperate with the Feds, anything to protect his wife. Claims Booth and Stanley threatened to burn Ashland and string Margaret up. Apparently Booth even hinted he’d done it before. To set an example. Since his arrival, they’ve essentially been prisoners in their own home.”

“What about Nick?”

“That’s the bad news. The mayor swears he doesn’t know anything about that. He gave us permission to search Ashland, including the grounds. I don’t think he’s lying.”

A stone dropped through Cage’s empty stomach. “Doesn’t mean Booth didn’t have Nick kidnapped. The mayor may not know.”

“Yeah, but remember what Dylan said? After the storm, they were all over the property checking for damage. They didn’t see anything.”

“Then he’s got him somewhere else.”

“Possibly.”

Still in an evidence bag, the cartridge box sat in the middle of Gina’s desk. Cage picked it up, thinking about the note they’d found inside. “We’re missing something, Captain. It’s staring us right in the face, and I can’t see it.”

“Me either,” Gina said. “But we’d better get the blinders off soon. If Nick Samuels is still alive, he’s in more danger with Booth and Stanley in custody. He’s nothing but dead weight at this point.”

Cage sank down into the chair, the euphoria from Booth’s arrest evaporating. Every time he looked at that cartridge box, something licked at his brain, like a nightmare he’d forgotten. He’d had his problems with Nick, but after last summer, they’d started over, gotten to be real friends. He leaned forward, head in his hands. He’d been the one to tell Jaymee Lana was dead. Would he have to do the same thing with Nick?

NICK

H
e’s back and
rambling. Ben Moore is dead. The Dixie Mafia killed him. My heart lurches into my throat. That’s my fault. I’d put that story on the back burner when I figured out what Ben wanted. The guy had caused so much trouble for my friends, and there he was, too much of a coward to turn state’s evidence. When I contacted him about Memory Lane Antiques, he seized the opportunity to push me onto a bigger and better story. By the time I realized the mafia connection, I’d already sent the other pictures on to Jaymee so I wouldn’t forget. I was focused on the cartridge box. Pulitzer. A decades-old murder that changed a community finally solved. How could I ignore that?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Is Jaymee all right?” My voice is hoarse as a bullfrog’s and not as strong. I take a drink of the water he’s brought me. “Does the mafia think she knows?”

He’s across the room, shuffling and mumbling. “Fine. The mafia people are in custody. For now. FBI’s on their way.”

He’s weak. I hear it in his voice, the way his words start and stop. He’s never done this before.

“You can let me go. I’ll speak up for you. You can testify against the others.”

“No.” The singular word is stronger than anything he’s said. “I can’t allow that to happen. Too many lives ruined.”

“Lives’ll be ruined if you kill me too.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” He bumps into something metal. A clang of objects against a hard floor.

Bit by bit, my head clears. Listening, smelling, touching as far as my bound hands will allow me. I’ve figured out where we are.

It won’t be hard for him to get rid of me here, right down to the last ash.

DANI

D
ani sat in
one of Grace’s antique chairs—her father had saved them from the Yankees, she loved to tell Dani—holding the woman’s clammy hand. She fiercely wanted to think of something to say that didn’t sound patronizing or presumptive, but nothing came to mind. Dani couldn’t imagine the gaping maw left by the loss of a child.
It had to be like a part of your own life getting snuffed out.

The heavy pall of grief hung over Oak Lynn’s parlor like the ash and smoke clouds still lingering over Roselea. Looking wrinkled and as breakable as china, Grace sat in her favorite chair, the one she always perched in when she shared her favorite bits of family history with Dani. Instead of bright and glowing, Grace’s eyes were bloodshot, her skin pasty-thin and splotched red from crying and wiping her tears.

Jeb had been at the house when Dani arrived, fussing over Grace. He looked at her with such tenderness Dani suspected there was a lot more than friendship between them.

“At least you know he didn’t kill himself.” Dani still couldn’t quite grasp what Jeb had told her. “I know that doesn’t help, but it somehow seems like it would be worse if he chose suicide.”

Grace’s boney shoulders raised and then sagged. “I don’t see how anything could be worse. I just feel like everything inside of me has melted away. There’s nothing left.”

Jeb knelt next to her, his knees cracking with the effort. “Now that’s not true. You know Ben wouldn’t want you to give up. He had plans for this place. For you. He’d want you to carry on.”

Ben Moore had been a manipulative, lying ass, but he didn’t deserve to die. “He tried to change,” Dani said. “Finally doing the right thing after all the trouble he caused. Remember him for that. It takes a lot for a person to acknowledge their mistakes and actually put the effort into turning their life around.”
Too bad the decision got Ben killed.

Despite all the havoc he caused, his loss stung. What did he think about during those final moments? Fear? Anger? Confusion? Or did it all happen so quickly he had no time to register the cold truth?

“Is there anything I can do?” Dani knew the answer, but she asked it anyway. Grace had taken her under her wing, treated her like a daughter these last few months.

“No, dear.” Grace blew into yet another tissue. “Jeb’s going to help me make the arrangements, but I won’t be able to do anything until the Jackson people release him.”

“Should only take a few days,” Jeb said. His usually ruddy complexion was nearly as pale as Grace’s, and he looked thin, shadows under his eyes. Both of them were too old to deal with this sort of stress. Jeb slammed his foot on the floor. “Damn that company. If they’d stayed out of this area, none of this would have happened. Both Ben and Nick would still be here.”

“Do they have any leads on his kidnapping?” Grace asked.

“I haven’t talked to Cage in a few hours,” Dani said. “Last I heard, Ben had sent the encrypted pictures.”

“Nick’s a smart man,” Jeb said. “I’ve only met him a couple of times when he was visiting Jaymee, but he’s the sort to dig. I know that’s what happened. Got him in trouble.”

Jeb was right, and it had been nearly seventy-two hours since Nick disappeared. Wyatt Booth had been in town for less than two days before Ben was murdered. The worry that Nick met the same fate was growing like a malignant tumor. Cooped up at Ironwood, Jaymee’s resolve was starting to wane, and Dani wasn’t sure she could keep her friend’s spirits up much longer.

“It’s the pictures I don’t understand,” Dani said. “Nick didn’t send Jaymee the one of the cartridge box. And that’s what he had in the car.”

“Cartridge box?” Jeb asked.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling,” Jeb said. “I find myself putting my foot in my mouth frequently these days.”

Dani returned his weak grin. “And here I thought it was a Yankee thing.”

“Ben truly regretted the way he treated you.” Grace gave Dani’s hand a hard squeeze. “After the dust settled from what happened at Ironwood last summer, and he saw how close you and Cage came to dying, I think that’s when he started to realize the terrible things he’d done.”

She didn’t want to speak ill of the dead or hurt a grieving mother’s feelings, so Dani simply nodded and squeezed back. “I know he did. And what happened last summer wasn’t his fault.”
Not entirely
, she added to herself. He wasn’t the crazy person who’d pulled a knife on her and Cage in Ironwood’s secret passage.

Dani’s phone beeped with a text message. Cage. She read it eagerly, her stomach alternately dropping and then rising. “Oh my God.”

“Did they find Nick?” Jeb asked.

“No, but they’ve arrested Wyatt Booth and Mayor Asher for fraud. The FBI is coming in to question Booth. Maybe they’re getting close.” She bit her lip, following Cage’s orders to not share the rest of the text.

Grace hiccupped another sob. “If that man murdered my son, they’d better not screw this up.”

Jeb walked Dani to her truck, promising to let her know if Grace needed anything. “I’m heading into town soon to pick up a few things for her. Please let me know if you or Jaymee need anything.”

Dani drove too
fast back to Ironwood, her little truck skidding into the dirty drive and spraying dust everywhere. This morning had dawned cool, but now she was sweating in her lightweight jacket.
Mississippi has bipolar weather.

She burst into the front door, greeted by Mutt’s happy barking. Tail wagging and tongue dripping saliva on her restored hardwood, he led her into the kitchen where Jaymee sat at the table. She clutched her phone so tightly her fingers were white.

“Did Cage text you too?”

“Yeah. They’re holding Booth for Ben’s murder, but Cage is afraid it won’t stick.” Dani ticked off the short message. “Booth’s pain patch wasn’t fentanyl. Norton wants the Semple land for natural gas.”

“And Dylan Asher started the fire that nearly killed me.”

“You can’t mention that to anyone,” Dani said.
What a stupid fool.
Maybe she was naive to the power of a man like Wyatt Booth, but why hadn’t Dylan just gone to the authorities? And the fire! The man was a volunteer at the department. He knew enough to realize how easily the blaze could get out of control, especially with things being so dry. Not to mention Jaymee had nearly died. “He’s cooperating, and they’re trying to keep it secret.”