Chapter Seventeen
The truck was as good as new. Camden stepped out to speak directly with the tow-truck driver about what had happened that caused him and the Bronco driver to back away from the vehicle.
“What’s the rundown?” he asked, purposely taking this one on his own.
Rochelle looked like she might jump out of her skin at an unexpected noise.
Okay, that analysis was probably an overkill, but he wanted to give her time to hit the reset button.
He had no doubt she was a professional who could handle herself under any circumstances.
He also trusted her to pull herself off the investigation if she couldn’t.
In fact, he might talk to her about whether or not it was a good idea for her to take a step back, like her supervisor had suggested. This might be a good time to take a couple days of vacation to let the clock unwind.
“We found a device,” the tow-truck driver began. “Needless to say, we took all precautions after to ensure everyone’s safety.”
“And?”
“Turns out the device was one of those trackers you can buy at a spy store,” he supplied. “An amateur job but, hey, they work nonetheless.”
“Which means someone decided to keep tabs on myself and the detective,” Camden said.
“Looks like it,” the driver agreed as he unhitched the truck. “Okay if I put it down here?”
“Yeah,” Camden said but his mind was already spinning. Was a tracking device being used on Rochelle’s service vehicle? Was that the reason the perp found out her home address?
A determined criminal could find out almost anything they wanted these days with all the information gathered, stored, and available on the internet. There was no accountability on how that information could be used either. Personal data was there for the taking.
“Just one device?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” the driver said as he finished and then unhooked the truck from the winch.
Good to know.
“Thank you for bringing my truck to my doorstep,” Camden said.
“No problem,” the driver said before offering a handshake. “I’ll leave you to it, but rest assured the vehicle has been swept and is all clear.”
For now.
“Much appreciated,” Camden stated before locking up and heading back inside to find Rochelle sitting at the granite island.
Her back was to him, but he could tell she had her cell phone out and was studying the screen.
He closed and locked the front door, a habit he’d picked up since moving away from Mesa Point.
Before he got far, the doorbell buzzed. Camden circled back and checked before opening. Pizza had arrived.
He opened the door, took the box with a bag on top, and thanked the driver. The bill had already been paid, tip included, so he toed the door closed and brought dinner to the table.
“The plates are there,” he said, motioning with a nod. After setting down the food, he locked the door once more and then joined Rochelle at the table. She was already putting out plates.
Rochelle retrieved coffee cups and grabbed a couple of bottled waters from the fridge, then joined him. “This pizza smells like heaven.”
He liked making her smile.
“Coffee’s cold,” he said. “Do you want a fresh cup?”
“I’ll drink it this way once I’m finished eating.” She pulled another slice out of the box. He noted neither raced toward filling their plate the rest of the way with salad. “Cold coffee never bothered me.”
“Same here,” he said.
“What about the truck?” she asked, so he filled her in while they finished eating and then ate a few obligatory bites of salad. Then, it was back to the case. “I wish there was a way to notify Kage about his twin.”
“He wasn’t lying all this time about the doppelg?nger,” Camden said, his thoughts cycling back to the unexpected twist. “What did we decide about going to Asher’s?”
Rochelle glanced toward the window. “It’s dark outside. I could put on a baseball cap and keep my head down, so he won’t immediately recognize me. It’s probably a good time to make the drive.”
“Okay then,” he said. “Let’s roll.”
The trailer was situated on a couple acres outside the tiny little town of Buda, Texas, about twenty minutes north of Austin. Twenty minutes with no traffic. However, day or night, there was always traffic in Austin. Vehicles filled the roads.
Gravel crunched underneath tires on the dirt road leading toward the single-wide trailer, which had been blocked on the map feature of the internet.
Camden had slipped his shoulder holster back on before leaving his town house, same as Rochelle had done.
He’d given her a baseball cap with the words Gone Fishing embossed on it, a leftover from ages ago on some fishing trip he’d taken.
He couldn’t remember if it belonged to his brother or his cousin, but the black cap with white lettering did little to hide Rochelle’s beauty.
Her long fire-red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, off her face and mostly out of sight.
They might get away with the disguise if she kept her chin to her chest.
Halfway down the lane, Camden had flipped on his parking lights and cut down his headlights.
It was black as pitch outside.
Rochelle had been quiet on the ride over. Without a word, she exited the passenger side half a second after he cut off the engine, parking where the trees opened into a yard and the small trailer sat.
Camden wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he got out of the Bronco. The stench of a dead body? A shed next to the trailer with female voices begging for help? But it occurred to him this was exactly the kind of place a serial killer might bring someone they’d kidnapped.
The thought was not lost on Rochelle based on the look she just gave him.
Despite the fact they’d only known each other for a few days, he felt like she’d been his best friend for most of his life.
As much as he didn’t worry about whether or not he’d lived a past life or if he had more cycles of birth and death to endure in the future, his soul had recognized hers from some place deep.
Some place that knew more about the world than him.
Some place that knew more about love that him.
And some place that drew him toward her on a cellular level.
Camden shook off the thought, refocused on the task at hand.
Rochelle was a damn fine detective. But she didn’t need to be one to figure out what he’d just thought about this hellhole.
Making almost no sound, Rochelle eased her service weapon out of her shoulder holster as he did the same.
There was no helping the echo of the Bronco doors closing in the night, no matter how quiet they wanted them to be.
Other than a cacophony of insect sounds, they were the only ones making noise.
This place was out in the boonies. No cars.
No highway. No strip shopping centers. If Asher had taken dating Sabrina seriously, he had to realize they wouldn’t be together long if he brought her to a place like this—a place that gave off serial-killer vibes.
Camden and Rochelle walked almost side by side as they moved toward the trailer.
Neither spoke.
Camden’s eyes had not quite adjusted to the blackness. There hadn’t been enough time yet. He could make out general shapes once his parking lights turned off and not much else. Anyone who knew the terrain would have an upper hand. Asher.
As they approached the trailer, he noted the windows were blacked out. Getting close, he could see the details a little more clearly.
Before knocking on the door, they needed to clear the perimeter and investigate to see if there was an outdoor building in case his suspicions turned out to be true.
Rochelle stepped on something that made her withdraw her foot in a heartbeat. Something—a snake?—slithered away, completely freaking her out.
She suppressed a gasp by clamping her lips shut. There was literally no time to panic right now. She couldn’t afford to make a noise no matter how much she wanted to scream.
Rochelle hated snakes.
She hated pretty much every other creepy-crawly thing that went slithering around in the dark. But if she thought too much about it, she would freak herself right out. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and regained her composure.
After circling the building, she took note of the fact there was no shed or outbuilding or anything else that might be used to store equipment anywhere in the yard area on the property. Then again, that didn’t mean there wasn’t some type of building stashed out there in the woods.
Her body involuntarily shivered as icy fingers gripped her spine at the thought Justina Worth might have been brought here, might still be trapped here somewhere.
Without a warrant, Rochelle had no right to search the property. She didn’t have probable cause to trespass.
In all truth, Kage could have known that he had a twin out there. The man could be toying with them, pulling an innocent act. He could be using the Asher Foley identity with women he dated. He could have a dual identity.
Anything was possible at this point. However, those assumptions were a stretch. Intuition honed by years of experience told her that Kage had been telling the truth and had disappeared in order to figure out why he was being framed for kidnapping and murder.
Justina Worth. Rochelle repeated the name several times in her head. It was moments like these when focusing on the victim gave Rochelle an extra push to keep going, keep thinking.
Justina Worth. Based on the other victims, she was being tortured at this very moment.
Justina Worth. Based on the kidnapper’s pattern so far, she would be next on the chopping block.
Not on my watch. This woman deserved a fair chance to live and justice if she didn’t.
Rochelle took the lead, circling the small trailer once again as she listened for any signs of someone inside.
Technically, she wasn’t trespassing. She had reason to ask Asher Foley questions, giving them the right to be on his property. Dotting every i and crossing every t during an investigation ensured the best chance at a conviction. Jeopardizing the case wasn’t an option.
At this point, she could see a bit more clearly as her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She glanced toward the tree line, searching for anything that might be lurking in the shadows. Honestly, it was too far to get a good look. There was enough of a breeze to cause the branches to sway.
If not in the trailer, Asher Foley could be anywhere, and they might not see him until he got off a shot.
The thought sat hard in Rochelle’s thoughts as she stepped back, allowing Camden to take the lead as they approached the door.
She tucked her chin to her chest to hide her face in case Asher looked out the window.
There was no car parked anywhere near the trailer, so it seemed unlikely that Asher Foley was home.
Except that he could have stashed his vehicle away from the trailer and then hoofed it on foot.
This was his territory, and he would know the land like the back of his hand.
Camden stepped up onto concrete blocks positioned as a makeshift staircase leading to the door, and then knocked on it three times with bare knuckles. He said, “Open up. US Marshal Camden Remington here. I need you to open the door.”
Identifying themselves immediately held no room for confusion as to who was banging on the door past midnight. It was no secret guns were plentiful. A shotgun blast through the door could be sold as self-defense with a good attorney.
No answer.
Camden banged on the door once again. “Open up. Police.”
Still nothing. No sign of life. Not a sound came from inside the trailer.
They waited. Minutes passed. Camden tried a third time, shouting louder this time. So much so, his voice echoed.
When it was obvious no one was going to answer the door and no screams for help came from inside, they retreated to the Bronco.
Camden turned it around, keeping the headlights off. It wasn’t until they made it safely down the lane with trees blocking the view to—and from—the trailer that he turned on the Bronco’s parking lights. It enabled the two of them to see around the vehicle and as much as four feet ahead.
“What do you think?” Camden asked.
“He’s not here,” she said. “The victims aren’t being kept at the trailer, but they could be on property.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and cut the headlights off as they emerged onto a dirt road and out of the lane. “We don’t have enough for a search warrant.”
“I know,” she agreed. “It’s a shame because I feel like we might find answers if we could get inside that trailer.” She shook her head in frustration. “Then again, he might not link his home with his crimes.”
“True,” he said. “I just wish I’d been smarter about how I treated Kage. He could have been useful.”
“We can stake out his apartment,” she offered. “Asher might have returned if he was the shooter from earlier.”
Camden nodded. He didn’t state the obvious. They could go to her home or put her anywhere in the open near Kage’s apartment to draw Asher out. She would volunteer if she thought the idea had a snowball’s chance in hell of being accepted. There was no way Camden would use her as bait.
Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something. “Did you see that?”
The question might as well have been rhetorical because Camden was already pulling over to the side of the road.