Colby Law. Debra Webb
she has kept this secret for a very long time. She may not be prepared to let go now. Particularly to a stranger.”
For the first time since Lyle had met Victoria Colby-Camp he noted uncertainty in those wise, dark eyes. He smiled. “You have my word. But, I have a feeling you believe I have the skills to handle the situation or I wouldn’t be here.”
Victoria returned the smile. “I just needed to confirm that you are as convinced as we are. This case will be anything but simple, I fear.”
Lyle imagined he’d have to wake up pretty early in the morning to get a step ahead of this lady.
In the visitors’ parking area, Simon hesitated before settling into his sedan. He pulled his cell phone from the interior pocket of his suit jacket and checked the screen before accepting the call. “Ruhl.”
Simon Ruhl had the look and the bearing of a lead agent in a Secret Service team rather than a mere P.I., but then this was the Colby Agency. Made sense that Ruhl set the classic high-end example, since he was former FBI. Lyle had never met a federal agent that he cared for until now. Maybe he’d misjudged the whole barrel based on a couple of bad apples. Whatever the case, Simon knew his stuff and Lyle respected him. So far his experience at the Colby Agency was a good fit. The Houston office was nearly fully staffed, and Lyle was impressed with the lineup.
“We’re on our way,” Simon assured the caller before putting away his cell. “That was Lucas,” he said, shifting his attention to Victoria. To Lyle he added, “Janet Tolliver is dead.”
Frustration drilled deep into Lyle’s gut. “When?” Not five minutes before the meeting with the warden Lucas had notified Simon that Tolliver’s last known address was in the process of being confirmed. Prentice had been kept in the dark about this update until the address and the woman’s connection to Barker could be verified. This news was seriously going to set back Lyle’s efforts to determine if the Barker girls were alive. Janet Tolliver was the only name Barker had given Victoria. Allegedly, she was his co-conspirator in getting the children to safety before the law descended upon the Barkers’ modest home in Granger. Tolliver had moved from Austin immediately after that. She’d jumped around for years. Obviously her final location had been found … along with her body.
“Sometime this morning.” Simon hit the remote, unlocking his sedan. “A neighbor found her. The police aren’t talking yet.” Lyle opened the front passenger door for Victoria as Simon continued, “Turns out she had relatives in Copperas Cove. She had moved there just a few months ago. Coincidentally, only a few miles from Clare Barker’s new Five Hills address.” Simon held Lyle’s gaze a moment before tacking on, “your hometown, McCaleb. That may prove the only good thing about this news, as long as you don’t have any conflicts with going back home for at least the first step of your investigation.”
Lyle shook his head. “No conflicts.” None to speak of anyway. He hadn’t been home in a while. Looked as if that was about to change. He closed Victoria’s door and gave Simon a nod. “As soon as we’re back at the office I can move out.”
No big deal. Lyle had dug up the deads’ secrets before. He could do it again. As long as no one else died before he got what he needed, he could work with that.
And, for the record, he didn’t believe in coincidences.
11:00 p.m., Copperas Cove
LYLE WAITED IN THE darkness. The local detectives had finished their initial investigation of the scene and called it a night. According to his contact, a retired sheriff’s detective, the fifty-eight-year-old woman had been bludgeoned to death. In spite of that fact, there was no sign of forced entry, no indication of a true struggle. A broken lamp, an overturned table, both the result of her fall, but nothing else, discounting the blood-stained rug. If not for the blood and the obvious blows her body had absorbed, she might have merely suffered a heart attack and crumpled to the floor.
The violent attack came suddenly, unexpectedly, from a perpetrator Janet Tolliver had known and allowed into her home. The estimated time of death was between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m. Lucas’s contact had located Clare Barker’s position at ten that morning, moments after Victoria’s meeting with Rafe Barker. Sufficient time for her to have committed the crime, except that there was no indication she’d left the apartment rented by her attorney not half an hour’s drive from the Tolliver home. Barker had no vehicle as of yet, and no taxis serving the area had a record of a pickup at that address during that critical window of time.
Robbery didn’t appear to be the motive, since Tolliver’s purse still contained fifty dollars in cash and her one credit card and none of the usual targets in the home appeared to have been disturbed. Tolliver’s great-niece would arrive tomorrow to confirm that presumption and to handle the deceased’s final arrangements. The police had not questioned Clare Barker, since they were unaware of any connection between her and Tolliver. Clare’s whereabouts between her arrival at her new home at 2:00 a.m. and when Lucas ferreted out her location could not be confirmed beyond the apparent lack of transportation. Seemed pretty damning that Tolliver was dead only a few hours after Barker’s release. Even more so since Clare had requested Copperas Cove as her landing point. Had she known about Tolliver? Did this brutal murder confirm Rafe Barker’s allegations?
Then again, based on what Lyle had read about Clare in the trial transcripts, she was one sharp cookie. Definitely not the type to act rashly. She’d had a long time to lay out a strategy for life after her release and any revenge she hoped to wield. Seemed to him that she would have taken a bit more care. Then again, anyone involved with murdering young girls couldn’t be called logical or rational, and care wasn’t likely a part of the person’s psychological makeup.
Lyle emerged from his truck and locked the doors manually to avoid the click. He surveyed the quiet neighborhood until he was satisfied the residents were tucked in for the night. Moonlight and streetlamps washed the eight houses lining this end of the street with a grayish glow. There was only one way in or out, since the street dead-ended here, abutting a copse of trees that flanked the rear parking lot and playground of a school. He hoped his investigation wasn’t headed for a dead end, as well. All the homes were owner occupied. The police had questioned the neighbors. No one had seen or heard anything. Most of the residents were older folks. Chances were every last one had been sound asleep between two and four this morning. By tomorrow the detectives on the case should be able to determine if Tolliver had received any phone calls that might have preceded the late-night visitor.
Since Tolliver was the only person who could have confirmed Rafe Barker’s story, her murder had changed Lyle’s strategy completely. There were a number of alternative steps he could take. Search the house, and that was called breaking and entering. Not to mention tampering with a crime scene. He could check out any items she might have stored in bank security-deposit boxes or with an attorney in hopes a journal or notes of some sort related to her dealings with Rafe Barker existed. If Lyle played his cards right he might get an interview with the great-niece, who could facilitate the other steps on his agenda. A list of Tolliver’s friends, the church she attended and any enemies she might have had would be useful. The downside to collecting that kind of information was the time required, and time was the enemy, on several levels.
He strolled along the sidewalk, studying the modest architecture with the aid of the streetlamps. Felt strange to be this close to home without having seen his family already. The ranch where he’d grown up wasn’t far from Copperas Cove proper. His folks would be disappointed if he didn’t stop by and at least say hello. But stopping by the old home place meant risking running into her. And that was a risk he had no intention of taking. The longer he was in the Cove, the more that risk increased.
This was not the time to get distracted with ancient history.
Lyle slipped into the darkness at the corner of the last house on the right and moved across the well-manicured back lawns until he reached the home belonging to the victim. Both the front and rear entrances were secured with official crime-scene warnings. A cat crouched on the rear stoop yowled for entrance. Lyle supposed the great-niece would see after any pets now orphaned. Or maybe one of the neighbors would