Hangman: Yellowstone Investigations, #5

By Clara Kendrick

This fifth book in the series, with over 80,000 words of romantic suspense, tells the story of Callum and Laura…

 

Callum: When I first came to Yellowstone and started my business, I was licking my wounds. My wife had been murdered. The man who did it was still roaming free and flashing his FBI badge all over town. I was disgraced and pretty sure that it was all over. And that included the strange and confusing relationship I had with a fellow psychological researcher named Laura Selway. Now Laura's here in Wildcat because that murderer is on the move again, and she's determined that we're going to chase him down.

 

Laura: I never understood why Callum up and left the east coast to hide here in the middle of nowhere. This place is strange. The people are hardworking, but untrusting. And now that I'm here to poke my nose into their local goings on, I'm about to find out just how hostile they can get. That means Callum is my lifeline. I thought I was older and wiser. I thought I could just keep things casual and focus on the case. Now I'm hoping to fix the past and convince Callum it's time to head back east to where we both belong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clara Kendrick
• Release date: May 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9798224613977

Clara Kendrick

Discover the captivating world of Clara Kendrick's romantic suspense. With her masterful storytelling and skillful blend of intrigue, romance, and passion, Kendrick draws readers in and keeps them hooked until the very end. Get ready to be swept away by her thrilling and steamy tales of love and suspense. Signup and follow at: Books2read.com/ClaraKendrick Facebook.com/AuthorClaraKendrick

Book preview

Chapter One

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Laura tapped her foot so energetically that the entire bench beneath her seemed to jiggle right along with her. Every five or ten seconds she heaved a gigantic sigh and swap legs. Right crossed over left. Left crossed over right. After what felt like an eternity, the little secretary with the too blue eyes and too short skirt looked up from her computer monitor.

Special Agent Max will see you now, the young woman droned. She curved her mouth in a sickly sweet smile. "Thank you for being so patient. He’s such a busy man these days."

Laura didn’t even bother to roll her eyes. Somehow she felt like it was probably implied. "Right. Because there’s just so much federal crime in Northern Wyoming."

We have Southern Montana as well. The little secretary drew herself up so straight that Laura expected to hear her bra strap twang. It’s a huge territory, you know. These field offices are nothing like the ones back east or out on the West Coast.

No doubt, Laura mocked.

Then she shook her head. There was absolutely no point in going on about this. The little secretary likely had no idea her boss was such a piece of shit. Horace Max had always been rather adept at manipulation, especially when it came to young women. Laura knew deep down that Max’s manipulations had been the reason that he had so easily lured Leah Mackenzie away from her husband and into his little psychological experiment. Of course, then Horace Max had lost his head and murdered the poor woman for her troubles. Because that was what a psychopath often did.

Laura stepped past the secretary’s desk and headed down the short hallway that led to a set of double doors labeled Supervisory Special Agent Horace Max. No doubt the supervisory part of the title had only been added because good old Horace was the only one anywhere near his pay grade for more than several hundred miles. Just as Laura put her hand out to reach for the door pull, she heard something that made her stop cold.

But you don’t understand! A woman’s voice drifted out into the reception area from the direction of Max’s corner office. I saw him! I’m a material witness in that case! I saw Jonathan Winters and I know that he murdered those women. You can’t tell me what I saw! You can’t do that. I’m not crazy.

How interesting.

Laura turned around to look at the secretary. The sound of her nails clacking across the keyboard had stopped. She was now staring wide-eyed down the hallway as though she had not realized that there was someone inside Max’s office. If the sound of the woman’s voice was any indicator, she probably hadn’t stopped by the secretary’s desk to begin with.

Figuring she had nothing to lose and everything to gain, Laura pulled that office door wide open and popped inside Agent Max’s palatial office space. The man had likely spared no expense. Laura had never seen an FBI agent’s office with such a spectacular view through two walls of windows or a desk that looked as though it had been custom carved from a block of mahogany. The walls were painted a warm cream color. What walls were not given to a display of mountain views were peppered with expensive landscapes. The lighting was soft and welcoming. The hardwood floors gleamed where they weren’t covered in plush rugs. There was even a long couch covered in cream-colored leather and liberally dotted with what appeared to be handmade pillows. The whole picture gave the impression of wealth and position. Not something the FBI traditionally displayed in its usual office décor.

Ms. Barney, Agent Max was saying in his smooth-as-chocolate voice. You must understand that Mr. Winters has been accused of so many ridiculous crimes that we truly need firm forensic evidence. The circumstantial nature of this case is just not enough to try and take it to trial.

That’s not what the state district attorney’s office says! A woman stood center stage in the office with her hands on her generous hips and a belligerent expression on her face. They’re planning to put that man on trial and save us all from his depraved and ridiculous agenda.

Laura struggled not to smile. The woman’s obvious desire for justice was admirable. She should not have been an object of ridicule, especially since Laura suspected that this was Julia Barney, a key eyewitness in Winters vs. the State of Wyoming, where they were putting the bastard on trial for a series of chilling murders that centered around his depraved desire to conduct psychological torture research on his victims.

Julia shoved her thick glasses back up her snub nose. She was a very broad woman with wide shoulders, ample hips, and an obvious desire to wear leggings and tight shirts in spite of it. Her dark hair was piled atop her head in a huge bun fashioned out of a ponytail and the set of her jaw suggested she was about ready to launch herself right over Agent Max’s desktop.

Ms. Barney, you’ll have to excuse me. Agent Max had apparently spotted Laura. I have another appointment.

Laura waved her hand and then offered Ms. Barney a smile when the woman turned around. Oh, don’t mind me. If Ms. Barney has more to say I would love to hear her thoughts on the Winters case.

The Winters case is none of your business, Max growled. His dark eyes sparked and he was suddenly gripping the edge of his desk as though he were ready to rip it in two. "Ms. Barney was just leaving."

The hell I was! Julia Barney snarled. She turned and gave Laura a very thorough once-over. Who are you?

My name is Laura Selway. I’m a civilian psychologist sometimes contracted by the FBI, but in this particular instance I have been contracted by the state of Wyoming to do an evaluation of Jonathan Winters for their case against him. Laura offered her hand to Ms. Barney. She could tell from the woman’s body language that what she craved more than anything else was the validation associated with acknowledgement. It was a simple enough thing to offer. In Laura’s opinion, it was never wise to discount people like Julia Barney. It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Barney. I’m sure we’ll be speaking on plenty of occasions during this case.

Oh. Julia Barney looked taken aback. "Well, I very much appreciate your willingness to look at this case honestly and without the sort of bias—she cast a dark look at Agent Max—that seems to be happening at the federal level."

Then we should all be glad that this is not a federal case, Laura said sweetly. She smiled first at Julia and then at Agent Max. "Which makes me wonder why you’re here today, Ms. Barney. What did you need of poor, overworked and so put-upon Agent Max?" Laura could tell from Max’s expression that she’d laid that last bit on a little too thick. She just didn’t care.

He asked me to come in and talk to him, Julia Barney said, wrinkling her nose and looking confused. I didn’t really understand why, but if it’s about the case I want to make sure that I cooperate fully, you know?

Absolutely. Laura nodded, but secretly she was seething with anger that Horace Max was trying so hard to muck up this case enough to get it thrown out. I truly appreciate how conscientious you are. But I’m here now to help the state’s attorney’s office do their investigating. So if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll be doing all of the communicating from now on. You know, just to avoid the confusion. That way we aren’t mucking up our case. Laura let her gaze slide toward Max, trying to make it seem as though she and Julia Barney were technically in on a little secret together. "We certainly don’t want any federal involvement since they aren’t really inclined to put enough importance on the forensic evidence that we do have. If you know what I mean?"

If Julia’s wide dark eyes were any indicator, she certainly did. Or at least those huge dark eyes stretching pretty much the entire shape of her oversized glasses suggested to Laura that Julia understood the idea that she was so special that she didn’t have to talk to Agent Max anymore because he wasn’t cleared to know what she did. That certainly appealed to Julia Barney. She abruptly turned her back on Horace Max.

Laura, it has been fantastic to meet you and I look forward to many more meetings so that we can work together to put this heinous criminal behind bars. Julia put her hand out. Laura took it. There was a solid handshake, and then Julia spun on her heels and left the office.

Laura waited until the door had clicked shut before turning back around to glare at Horace Max. The shameless man didn’t even have the grace to look chagrined or embarrassed or even sorry for what he had done. Instead he leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head and gave her the look a cat gives a mouse right before he tries to eat it.

Well, that was neatly done, Max commented wryly. There was actual admiration in his expression, the ass. I don’t think I could have manipulated her with any more efficiency than you just did. In fact, I believe I learned a thing or two.

About understanding people and being compassionate about their wants and needs and their desire to seek validation? Laura scoffed. She folded her arms over her chest and glared down at him as though he’d just spoken a whole slew of blasphemous words. "That’s a load of crap. All I did was validate that woman’s desire to help put a criminal in jail. You were trying to discredit her, make her doubt herself, and then convince her not to testify at all because the case had no validity. That’s not only a load of crap, it’s also self-serving."

Oh, is that right? He relaxed into his chair, but she could see the lines of tension bracketing his mouth. And tell me how you came up with this theory. Did you just pull it out of thin air? Or were you using some kind of psychological black magic?

Laura hated this man. She hated him in ways that defied explanation. There was just something about Horace Max that set off every alarm bell in Laura’s body. He was not right. There was something about this man that should have set off the alarm bells in the FBI psych eval process too. It wasn’t like they didn’t keep an eye on their employees from the top all the way down to the guys who cleaned the toilets.

Of course, that just made Laura angrier, because it suggested to her that the FBI’s standards were a bit skewed. They apparently accepted Horace Max’s psychological issues and found them useful, which they probably were in the correct venue. But right now? The guy was protecting his own ass and that was it.

"It’s not psychological black magic, as you put it, Laura told him irritably. It’s called education, information, skills, and empathy for others. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head at him. Don’t worry, nobody expects someone like you who desperately dabbles in such things to have any education, knowledge, or skills."

Is that why you’re here then? He acted as though her words hadn’t struck a mark, but she could see the narcissist behind his eyes hunkering down and preparing to strike back. The ass. You’re here to keep me from pulling the shroud off the state’s case against Jonathan Winters and proving that they’re trying to protect a local idiot from taking responsibility for his actions?

Seriously? This time Laura wanted to laugh her ass off. You’re trying to say that poor Lenny Owens was responsible for those murders? You honestly want anyone to believe that someone with the sort of learning disabilities that Lenny suffers from could possibly come up with a plan to kidnap multiple women and torture them in some misguided attempt to create an old FBI counterintelligence experiment? She tilted her head to the side and made a tsking noise to let him know just how ridiculous she found this notion. Surely you don’t believe that the state is foolish enough to buy into that story. Do you? At least when I dealt with you and your brand of bullshit, lies, and excuses in the past you had the sense to pick a scapegoat with an IQ large enough to fit the profile.

You’re such a bitch, he growled suddenly. Shooting out of his chair, he jumped to his feet and put his hands flat on the desktop.

Laura had to struggle to hold her ground. Her first instinct was to leap away. The man was a snake. There was no predicting him. There was no imagining what he might do or patterns that he might follow. Horace Max was a victim of his own clinical psychosis just as much as those around him were. The man was a walking, talking example of Narcissistic Personality Disorder comingled with a big enough dose of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Anxiety that he was a ticking time bomb waiting for someone to make him feel less important that he wanted to be. At that point he would explode and whoever happened to be in his way would be sure to become a casualty of his ego.

Max pointed at her. You’d better stay away from me and my investigations. The federal government is not going to stand idly by while a state investigation completely discounts the correct suspect just because they’re determined to pursue the wrong one.

I wonder, Laura mused. Are you trying desperately to keep Jonathan Winters out of the limelight because you don’t want anyone to know that he had gotten a hold of your old research notes or because you really don’t want anyone to realize that you were the one responsible for those deaths back east all those years ago when Leah Mackenzie was killed? Are you afraid of people finding out that you’re still up to your old tricks? Or are you more scared of Callum Mackenzie?

You have no idea what you’re talking about, Max said, stabbing his finger toward the door. Get out of my office. Get. Out. I don’t want to hear this bullshit! Do you hear me? I don’t want to hear this crap. You’re a moron if you believe what you’re saying. I’m not afraid of Callum Mackenzie. He’s nothing out here. He was let go from the FBI.

Did Max really believe that? Did Max honestly think that Callum had been fired or let go with some kind of malice? She pressed her lips into a line and thought about the pros and cons of telling this man the truth.

Callum Mackenzie is disgraced. Nobody believes a word he says anymore, Max crowed.

Yeah. It was high time someone set this asshole straight. Why not be the one to do it herself? Laura pointed at Max and shook her head. You must not have gotten the whole story, Horace Max, Laura said with quiet finality. Callum wasn’t fired or disgraced or let go under some horrible circumstances. He was told that he could take as long as he needed to keep an eye on you until you slipped up and gave him an opening to prove that you murdered his wife. She paused to let that sink in. Callum isn’t here because he was punished. He’s here because you are. He’s here to bring you down, Horace Max, and I’m pretty sure you’re standing on the edge of that cliff ready to fall over whether you want to or not.

Chapter Two

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Callum Mackenzie sat back in his chair and tried to stop his mind from spinning in pointless circles that never seemed to lead anywhere good. Yes. His whole investigations agency seemed to be heading for a serious tumble over the cliff. One of his four investigators had just quit. Not just said he was quitting, which was what the other three had periodically done, but Paco Ortiz had actually quit. Not just quit either. Paco had left Wildcat, Montana, altogether to move to Sonoma, California, in order to run a freaking vineyard with his new girlfriend.

Stupid twit, Callum muttered with a shake of his head.

Callum could not even begin to contemplate the type of woman that might entice Callum to leave his job. In fact, Callum prided himself on being impervious to that kind of thing. He was far past the point in his life where he could be led around by his balls like some kind of adolescent. He was a grown man with the responsibilities and the sentiments that came with it.

"Psst!"

Callum looked up from his desktop. Had he actually been staring at the top of his desk when there was absolutely nothing on it? He’d been staring for long enough that his neck had a little kink in it, dammit! What was happening to him?

Mr. Mackenzie?

Oh right, there was someone trying to get his attention. Holly was the receptionist and sort of a jack of all trades around the offices at Yellowstone Investigations. At the moment she was leaning into his office and waving her hand as though she were trying desperately to get his attention and had been for far too long."

"Callum! she snapped. Would you wake up? I need to talk to you!"

About what? He waved her inside his office. Tell me there isn’t some other disaster looming on the horizon that I have no idea about. He grumbled this last bit because he was still feeling the sting of Paco’s desertion. It really pissed him off.

There’s a woman out there, Holly said, coming right up to his desk and leaning over to get very close so she could whisper. I don’t know how to handle her. She’s not a client and she’s pretty much demanding that I just hand over all of our case files about the Jonathan Winters investigation.

Damn! Callum gripped the sides of his chair. He could not launch himself out of his office and go running out to Holly’s desk to try and stake a claim on his files. It wasn’t that simple. So he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and sighed. Does this woman happen to be named Laura Selway?

Yes! Holly looked relieved. Thank God. So you know about this, right? Because she’s claiming to be from the state’s attorney’s office and I don’t want to get in the way of their investigation. I want Jonathan Winters to get a conviction. The guy is a total psycho. If anyone needs to go to jail it’s him. So can I just hand over the files then? You knew about this and just forgot to tell me?

No. Callum heaved himself to his feet. How was it possible to feel this old at forty? At the moment every muscle, bone, and joint in his body felt about eighty. I’ll come and handle it. She didn’t call me first. Nobody called me. But that was probably on purpose.

On purpose? Holly looked confused. Why would it be on purpose? Why would she want to take those files without telling you first? Is she even working for the state’s attorney’s office?

Probably.

Laura’s appearance in his office wasn’t exactly a complete surprise. The pushy woman had shown up at the hospital a few days back when Paco and his new lover had been there to attend her father’s death. Callum felt a little twinge when he thought of Manuel Abajo de Baca’s death. Callum hadn’t been responsible—at least not directly—but he had kept the seriousness of the man’s condition from his daughter for several days. Not that Callum had actually realized that the man had been so close to death. How could he have known something like that? He had just been trying to get Paco and Ariana to complete their role in the investigation into the murder of her brother. It was all—well, it was just one of those nasty side effects of investigating murders and other violent crimes. There were always casualties.

Mr. Mackenzie? Callum? Could you please quit spacing out? You’re really freaking me out. Holly was glowering at him. Freaking her out pretty much went hand and hand with pissing her off and then nobody in the office was happy.

Sorry. Callum headed for the door. I’ll handle Laura. She needs to understand that our files are protected and not subject to the requests of the state’s attorney’s office without going through the proper channels.

Even as he spoke those words, Callum felt calmer. There were things that Laura just needed to be reminded of. It was simple. He would go right out there into the reception room and tell her that...

Good gracious, that woman had the ability to knock Callum right off his intended track. He made it no further into the reception area of his office building than the middle of the room. That was where he stopped moving and started staring at the gorgeous woman with the slender athletic build, the waist-length chestnut brown hair, and the sharp features.

Laura was dressed in casual khaki slacks, hiking sandals, and a very simple top in a pale blue color that complimented her olive complexion. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Not that he could see that right now. He just knew it was there. At the moment Laura had her nose inside Holly’s desk drawers as she pawed through the files looking for what she wanted. Of course, Holly wasn’t there. She was probably still hiding in Callum’s office.

Excuse me? Callum finally managed to stammer. He cleared his throat. You’re being a little familiar with my firm’s files, don’t you think?

In lieu of a helpful administrative assistant, I figured this would do nicely. Laura did not look up from her search. Instead she put her hand on the desktop and shoved a sheaf of papers right at him. I know how you love your rules of process and legality, and how you traditionally wrap yourself in the cloak of legal bullshit. So I took the liberty of getting the court order, the subpoena, and any other nonsense documentation you could possibly require all together prior to coming in here. These copies are for your records. The originals are on file down in Cody at the courthouse.

He swallowed back a lump that had strangely appeared in his throat. You seem to be forgetting the niceties usually included in any kind of investigation of this nature, Callum said irritably. "Mostly the part where you explain yourself, ask to see the person in charge, and then establish your right to the information before you just dig in and take it."

She pulled out a heavy file and slammed it down on the desktop. I think we can dispense with that sort of bullshit. Don’t you? Jonathan Winters is guilty as sin. You have evidence that you’ve gathered to that effect. You have firsthand accounts from some of your investigators that went into that cave below the bridge over the Firehole River that describe the depravity going on. And mostly you have lists of people that I need to interview and that the state’s attorney’s office needs to contact in order to make sure they are prepared to give testimony.

All right then. Callum could not necessarily argue with any of that. So you need my information. What’s the rush?

She used one shapely hip to slam the file drawer closed.