Page 7 of Mile High Mystery

“It doesn’t matter if you find them if you don’t have the right proof,” he said. “That’s what it came down to with the Chalk brothers before, isn’t it? We all know they murdered that judge, but they got away with it. And they probably killed Camille, too. Do you really think you’re going to make any difference this time?”

“I’m going to try.”

He shook his head. “Go for it, then. Just don’t expect me to be any help.” He scooped up his keys from the table by the door. “I’m going to see my parents now. You don’t have to come.”

“I can answer questions for them that you can’t.” She followed him out the door. “And I’m required to be the one to officially notify them.”

“Suit yourself.”

She followed him to his truck. When he unlocked it, she opened the passenger door and slid inside. He frowned at her. “You can follow me in your vehicle,” he said.

“It’s better this way.” She fastened her seat belt. She had made the trip from Junction once today. The hour-long drive would give her time to study him and get to know him better.

She felt sorry for Zach, losing his sister not once but twice. But she couldn’t let pity get in the way of doing her job. And she was convinced he was lying to her about something. He wasn’t going to get rid of her until she found out the truth.

Chapter Three

Zach tried to focus on the dark highway and the terrible task ahead of him—informing his parents that everything they thought they knew about Camille’s death was wrong, but that she was more lost to them now than ever. But the woman beside him drew his attention away from these thoughts. He couldn’t see her well in the darkness, but every nerve tingled with awareness of her—the vanilla-and-flowers scent of her perfume or lotion, subtle and sexy. Though why anything about an FBI agent should be sexy to him, he couldn’t fathom. The agents who had dogged his family every waking hour after Camille agreed to testify against the Chalk brothers had been nothing but annoying.

None of them had been women. None of them had spoken to the family with Shelby Dryden’s warmth or compassion. As much as he wanted to resent her for her part in keeping Camille’s existence from him, he had a hard time holding on to his anger. Shelby had known Camille in her new life. She said she had been Camille’s friend.

He believed that. He could see similarities between Agent Dryden and his sister. Not physical similarities, but they both had the ability to connect with others. Camille had been a great restaurant server, always pulling in big tips because she had a talent for zeroing in on the best way to put a customer at ease. People would confide all kinds of personal secrets to her, then thank her for listening to them. They seemed to sense that Camille truly did care about the lives of everyone she met.

He felt that in Shelby Dryden, too. When she said she was sorry for his loss, the words didn’t come across as a rote platitude. She really did care. And he thought she mourned Camille’s death and maybe even took her murder personally.

“Thanks for agreeing to take me to your parents,” she said, breaking the silence between them. “I think it will be easier for them than having some unknown FBI agent show up on their doorstep.”

“You didn’t really give me much choice. But yeah, it probably is better this way.” He turned onto Eagle Mountain’s main street and headed toward the highway.

“I need to ask them some of the same questions I asked you—had they heard from Camille at all? Have they seen anyone suspicious hanging around?”

“No to both questions,” he said. “They would have told me if they had. They still talk about Camille all the time.” Some of those conversations were painful, but they were comforting, too, keeping the memory of his sister alive. “And they would have told me if they were worried about anyone or anything.”

“Do you think they would? Parents often try to protect their children from things like that.”

“I’m not some little kid. And I’m supposed to protect them.” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel with more force.

They turned onto the highway and headed toward more open country. “Tell me about your mom and dad,” she said. “I know what our file says, but the file only contains facts—not a lot about their personalities or emotions.”

“They’re very strong people,” he said. Despite losing two children under tragic circumstances, they still remained invested in life, active and involved, with many friends.

“They would have to be, to have gone through what they have.”

“My dad is more outgoing, like Camille,” Zach said. “He manages a hardware store and knows all the regular customers. He volunteers with the local parks board and is on the library board.” Tightness pulled at his chest. “If someone wanted to find him, it would be easy enough to do.”

“What about your mother?”

“She’s quieter, like me. She works at home, doing accounting for small businesses. She had a really hard time during the trial. When they told us Camille had been shot, she fell apart for a while. She’s been better lately, but...”

“But you worry about her,” Shelby said.

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “Would you tell me if they were in any danger?”

“They’re not in any danger that I’m aware of,” she said. “I want to check in with them and find out if they’ve noticed anything we haven’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I would tell you what I could.” She paused, then added, “I have to balance an individual’s desire to know with the big picture of whatever case I’m working on. Some cases require more secrecy than others.”

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