Wounded at the Lake Page 4

  What a contradiction.

  “Would you sit down? I have a couple more questions.”

  “Glad to. My head still isn’t right.” She looked around. “This is a beautiful kitchen.”

  “You should take it easy. You were traumatized yesterday. It will take a while to get over it. As for this kitchen, I remodeled it several years ago. Shorty told me it was fine the way it was, but I wanted a more modern one. When she worried about the expense, I assured her I could afford it. Her grin once it was all done told me she approved.”

  “I can see why.” Lori sat across from him and folded her arms on the table. “I hope I can answer your questions.”

  “Memory?”

  “Nothing.”

  “How about the flash drive?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t help it.” But it made his job harder. “May I take your picture? That way my people will be able to recognize you if they see a missing-persons poster.”

  Lori looked down at herself. “Like this? I look like a refugee.” She gave that low chuckle again that made him smile. “At the moment, I guess that’s what I am.”

  “Just a headshot.”

  She gave him a half-grin. “Go for it.” And tossed her head.

  Perfectly cut hair fell into place.

  She didn’t ask to take time to put on makeup, which was unusual for any woman. It was particularly unusual for someone of means. Unless his PI skills had disappeared overnight, the woman had money, or her family did. Her hands were soft; her nails long and polished. Her clothes were obviously high fashion with designer labels and her boots were Italian leather. Plus, there was the expensive jewelry. Yet she sat in his kitchen as comfortable in Shorty’s clothes as she most likely was in her expensive wardrobe.

  He took out his cell phone and snapped a dozen pictures as he had her turn to the right, then to the left. Finished, he put the phone back in his pocket.

  “I feel guilty putting this on your back when you’re so busy. I’m sorry about that. But I meant it when I said I trusted you. Please don’t disappoint me.”

  “I’ll have to share your story and how you came to be here with the members of my firm. That’s where it will stay until you tell me otherwise.” Until then or unless he found something criminal in her past. That would be a game-changer.

  His gaze swept over her. He sincerely hoped she was an innocent. Suddenly he realized how important that was to him.

  Shorty came back into the kitchen with a pair of socks in one hand and one of his old shirts in the other. “You can’t go around barefoot on these cold floors.”

  Lori gave Shorty a grateful look and pulled them on.

  “Here’s an old flannel shirt of Coop’s. It will keep you warm.”

  She took it with a smile. It was so long she had to tie it at her waist. Damned if it didn’t look good on her.

  “I’ll have breakfast ready in no time. Do you like eggs and toast, or would you prefer cereal and fruit?”

  “Please. I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Tomorrow you can help yourself. Today, you’ll be treated as a patient.”

  Coop laughed. “Don’t argue. It won’t do a bit of good.”

  “Would it be all right if I had some of that soup from last night?”

  “Soup for breakfast…fine with me.” Shorty went to the fridge to get it.

  Coop helped himself to coffee and poured Lori a cup of tea. “Is this all right?”

  “More than.”

  In no time, Coop was wolfing down eggs, toast, and coffee. Lori was alternately sipping tea and taking tiny bites of soup. “I’m going to the office. I have to get back to my case and give your picture to the crew. If you need anything, and Shorty can’t help, she’ll call me. You didn’t have a cell phone on you yesterday so I’ll bring you one tonight.”

  “I don’t know anyone to call.”

  “If the killer finds where you are, you may want to call 911, or one of us.”

  Her face paled. He shouldn’t have been so blunt. “Sorry.”

  “I know. Even though I lived through it, I can’t believe it happened. It sounds like a bad mystery movie.”

  He wanted to take that look off her face. Worry. Uncertainty. Fear. Instead, he stood and took his plate to the sink. “If you need me, Shorty will let me know. Rest today.”

  “Thank you, for everything.”

  He waved a hand and went out the door.

  He wondered what the lovely lady would do if he found out she’d been involved in a criminal act that made someone angry enough to kill her. Of course that wasn’t the only reason for being shot. But it was the first that came to mind.

  As he drove down the drive to the road, he saw Doc’s pickup headed his way. He stopped and rolled down his window.

  “You’re early.”

  “Thought I would check out our patient before I go into the office. How is she this morning?”

  “Better than I anticipated when I saw so much blood yesterday.”

  “A head wound does that, as you well know.”

  “I know.” He wanted to forget how he’d been in more than one firefight in Afghanistan and how many lives had been lost. “Thanks for doing this, Doc.”

  “You owe me.” And she was off.

  Coop chuckled. He owed her big-time already.

  Thirty minutes later, Coop was at his office, situated in a three-story office building off the Sam Houston Parkway. Coop was happy with this north Houston location. To get home all he had to do was hit Highway 45 off the exchange and, if the traffic wasn’t too bad, be home in half an hour. He pulled into a parking space. It was another key feature of the location. Parking was always available.

  On the second floor, he took a right at the top of the stairs and opened the door to Browning Brothers Investigative Services. “Anyone home?” he called out.

  He followed voices coming from the break room. Coop looked at his watch. It was still early. Sticking his head in the door, he saw that everyone was present, including Dirk.

  “How did you beat me here?”

  Dirk grinned. “Gave the dogs a short lesson.”

  Coop grabbed a cup of coffee, skipped the box of donuts, and joined the others. Every morning they had a meeting to go over their active cases. Sometimes it helped to brainstorm, especially when they were at a standstill.

  Marshall, whose left eye had been destroyed by some al-Qaeda nut job, handed him a report that outlined the case. Nothing new had been added. If there was anything to be found on the Net, Marshall would be the one to find it. “Okay,” Coop sighed. “I’ll begin. I’ve made a decision.” He looked around the table. Every eye was turned his way. “I’m going to break the law today. As you all know, that’s not how we do business.”

  “Then why do it?” As always, Carrie was outspoken and curious. A tall, gorgeous red-haired, green-eyed beauty, Carrie was a real chameleon and had saved many a case with her gift of impersonation. She was just as good in the office. Coop often wondered how many were fooled by her sunny disposition, little knowing her mind was a steel trap. She’d suffered an injury in Iraq when the Jeep she was in ran over an IED. But no one knew just what kind of injury. Coop figured it had something to do with the left side of her body because she didn’t seem to have the same mobility in her left arm as her right, but Carrie never talked about it.

  Coop admired her in so many ways and didn’t know what they would do without her.

  “I’m at the end of my rope, Carrie. I’m going to break into the Wong sisters’ apartment to see if I can find a clue as to where they are. Searching the streets of Houston is doing nothing except costing us time and money.”

  “Like you said, Boss,” Buster put in. “We don’t do B&Es, and if the cops catch you in the act, you could lose your license.” Another invaluable employee, Buster had lost both legs in Afghanistan. His computer skills almost matched Marshall’s.

  “I’ll explain my reasoning. Since th
e Wong sisters disappeared when they couldn’t take Christie with them, we know they’re involved. We’ve shown their pictures on the streets and no one has seen them. If we don’t find them, this case may never be solved. If I can find something in their apartment that will help, it’s worth the risk.”

  “Be careful,” Carrie ordered, as she took a sip of coffee.

  Coop gave her a partial smile before he turned to Dirk.

  “I’m going to make my report short,” Dirk said before Coop could say anything else. “As you know, Allen Harper, missing now for three days, is an attorney for a small group called Caswell and Associates that mostly handles business accounts, guides them from time of set-up, either as a Corporation or LLC, gives CPA referrals, and solid business advice. At least that’s what their ad tells us. Harper happens to be both a CPA and an attorney. They have a couple of them on board and the customers love it—legal and financial advice in one pretty package. I’ve delved into the accounts he’s worked on and found nothing that stands out.” He passed a list around to the others. “See if any of these ring any bells. If so, my ears are open.”

  “Nothing at first glance,” Coop said as he handed the list to Marshall. “See if you can dig into them and come up with something.”

  “Will do.” He set the list aside.

  “I’m watching Harper’s place of business and all who work there. Either his disappearance is work-related or he’s cut out on his wife. I’m going with door number one.”

  There was a knock at the door. Coop looked up. “What are you doing here, Matt?”

  Coop’s number two brother came in with a smile, grabbed a mug of coffee and a donut before he sat down. In his dark suit, white shirt, and Italian silk tie with swirls of red and gold, he looked ready to get down to business. Though FBI, he looked the wealthy man he was. The Montgomery Trust Matt controlled gave millions to charity each year. Coop was proud of his brother.

  He and Dirk had, over the years, teased Matt unmercifully about his precise dress code. He told them it suited him just fine. Matt wasn’t a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy and he didn’t show up a lot at these sessions. Sometimes he had a few minutes to spare and would join them. Other times they picked his brain about one of their stubborn cases.

  FBI Special Agent Matthew Montgomery’s expertise had, from time to time, come in handy. “The FBI has been trying to get a lead on a child sex-slavery situation in Houston. As you all know, Houston is the sex-slavery capital of North America. With over half a million children missing every year, we have to assume a lot of them are taken for just that purpose. So far, we haven’t come up with anything more than a few arrests that haven’t led us anywhere.”

  “And?”

  “I wondered if that’s what happened to Christie. Did someone take her with the objective to sell her to the highest bidder? Is that the reason the Wong sisters wanted her back? If so, they’re in trouble with their boss, and it may be the reason they’ve disappeared.”

  “Damn it to hell, Matt. Why didn’t you swing this by us before now?”

  Matt shrugged. “Would it have made any difference?”

  “Probably not,” Carrie answered. “But it puts a different perspective on the case.”

  “You’re right,” Coop added. “We could be looking for an outfit that kidnaps young, pretty, girls in order to sell them. Instead, we were looking for a pervert who most likely would sexually abuse or kill. This makes our mission even more urgent, as there could be numerous other youngsters already kidnapped out there.”

  He paused, stood to fill his mug again. “I have something to tell you guys. I’ve taken on another case.” Seeing the look in their eyes, he raised a hand. “Don’t go ballistic on me.” For the next few minutes he told them everything that had happened the day before. The only thing he left out was the fact that he could have told Lori no and suggested another PI firm. How could he tell his trusted employees he felt the need to look after her? They’d think him crazy.

  Actually, it was kind of crazy. It was definitely not like him.

  Carrie had questions. “Does Doc think her memory will return soon? That would give you everything you need to know.”

  “It’s unpredictable. But she thinks it shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Until then, what do you want us to do?” Marshall wanted to know.

  Coop reached into his pocket. “We found this tucked in one of her boots. Obviously, it’s important. I’ve looked through the contents, studied, and cursed it. I still have no idea what it is. Maybe you or Buster can do better.”

  Marshall put it on top of Dirk’s list.

  Then Coop dug out his cell phone. “I took her photo. I don’t want you to ask about her on the street as, for the moment, she should stay dead, but I do want you to keep an eye out for a missing person report.” He handed the phone to Buster. “Print her picture and bring us copies. Then I want you and Marshall to sweep the Net for her. Surely, her family will report her missing.”

  “I’m going back on the streets today,” Carrie told them. “I’ll keep an eye out while I show the Wong sisters’ and Allen Harper’s photos around.”

  “Good.”

  Dirk stood. “I’m off. I’m going to stake out the attorney’s office. If I don’t have any luck there, I’ll hit the streets again.”

  Buster brought in a dozen pictures of Lori and handed them out. Dirk grabbed one, tucked a couple of donuts on a paper towel, and left.

  “Pretty lady,” Carrie said as she stood, waved, and made her exit.

  “I have a lot of work to do.” Marshall walked toward the door. “But, if you like, I can hit the streets as well.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. Right now I need you on the computer.”

  Buster followed him out. “Good luck today, Coop. Just be careful.”

  Coop and Matt were alone.

  “What do you really think about this stranger you brought to the homestead? From her picture, she doesn’t look the criminal type.”

  “I don’t know what to think. She was dressed in expensive threads with gold jewelry to match, has a professional hairstyle and manicured nails. Not at all the type you’d normally find shot in the head and dumped at the lake.”

  “Bet she was glad you were there. Most likely, you saved her life.”

  “Thor saved her life. I’m convinced if he hadn’t barked and taken off after the killer, they would have pumped a few more bullets in her.”

  “Unless you find who she is, you have nowhere to start an investigation.”

  Coop sighed. Matt was right. “We’ll have to find out who she is, then.”

  Matt stood to leave. “Unless the woman has family that reports her missing, you’ll come to another dead-end.”

  “Thanks for your positive outlook.”

  “Only the truth, Bro. Only the truth.”

  Matt grabbed another donut before ducking out the door.

  Coop found himself staring down at the photo in his hand. Lori looked up at him with those magnificent eyes—eyes that were as full of questions as his own must be.

  He knew right then he would do all in his power to find the answers she needed.

  Chapter Four

  Doc applied fresh gauze to the wound on Lori’s forehead. “You’ll heal just fine. Keep it dry and change it every day. I’ll be back to remove the sutures in a few days, but I’ll leave the necessary supplies for you to use in the meantime.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank Coop. If not for him you might not be with us.”

  Lori put a hand to her mouth. The thought that someone wanted her dead still sent a jolt to her system. Who hated her that much? What had she done?

  A shiver swept through her. Maybe amnesia was a good thing. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

  “I don’t want to run, but I have office hours this morning.”

  “How can I ever repay you?”

  “Get well. That’s enough.”

  The doctor left Lori’s bedroom in a hurry. Mom
ents later a truck engine started up.

  Thor padded into the room and sat next to her. She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him. “I wish I knew who I was, Thor. It’s the strangest feeling. I don’t know if I have parents, brothers, or sisters. If I do, they’ll miss me, won’t they?”

  Thor gave a low bark.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you understand.”

  “We think so, too,” Shorty said, as she walked into the room with a pad and pencil in her hand. “Thor is pretty darn smart. Let’s get to you. You need clothes that fit. If you give me your sizes I’ll run to the store and pick up a few things.”

  “I’ll repay you when I can.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I really like Doc Louise.”

  “She’s special.”

  “Doc told me about Coop’s brothers. I didn’t understand what she meant when she said they weren’t blood brothers, but were brothers just the same. I’m confused.”

  “I guess if you didn’t know us, anyone would be.”

  “Will you tell me about them?” Lori got on the bed and propped herself up with pillows behind her head while Shorty sat in a chair next to her.

  “My son and his wife were killed when Coop was a baby.” Her hand shook slightly at the memory. “Horrible car accident. Coop was barely two. My husband and I were his only relatives.” Sighing sadly at the memory, she continued, “I’m so glad we were here for him. My husband passed ten years ago—another terrible loss. Coop has been a blessing and a real joy since the day he came here.”

  “And the other two?”

  “Coop met Dirk when he started school. They became instant friends. Dirk lived with his mother a few miles from here in a rented house. His dad ran off and left them and she married again. Divorced again. Married again. Divorced a last time, but had a boyfriend. Dirk lived here more than at home. His mother didn’t seem to mind and I think her husband at the time, and her boyfriend later, were glad. One day, when the boys were in the fourth grade, she dropped by while they were at school. She was leaving and not coming back. She asked if we would keep Dirk. When I told her we would, she handed me a bag with Dirk’s clothes along with a small box of things she said he might want and left. When Dirk came home from school that day and I told him his mom was gone, he barely looked at the box before he asked Coop if he wanted to play basketball. The boys loved one another. Played. Fought. But no one had better jump on either of them because the other would dive in to defend him. He never heard from his mom again. I hated that. We didn’t want him to feel abandoned so we did our best to show him the same love as we did Coop. It wasn’t too much longer until we got a letter telling us she had died—cancer, I think. Yes, lung cancer. Smoked like a chimney.