from janitorial to catering, clerking to photographing, were hired out each year. Every single one of those people had a file at the Bureau.
The fact that so much was blacked out in Adrienne Jeffries’s file was an immediate giveaway that she was no clerk or anything so benign. Basically her name and the years she’d worked for the Bureau were the only info the file provided.
It was what wasn’t provided that concerned Conner. If she was such a gifted profiler, why wasn’t Jeffries helping the FBI anymore? What type of person would turn their back on an ability like that, if it would save lives? A cold and uncaring one, to be sure.
And why the heck had she been under “not surveillance, exactly”? Contract workers quit the FBI all the time. Most were not being watched by the Bureau, as far as Conner knew. But this woman was, at least partially.
There was something not right about this situation and this woman. The one thing of which Conner was confident was that he did not have all the data. He loosened the top button of his shirt under his tie and grabbed the ball again, tossing it to Seth.
Conner did not like going into any situation blind. But it seemed like he didn’t have much choice in this case. They would bring the woman in, as he had been ordered, glean any useful info, if any, and then would get back to real work.
This was a waste of his time.
Chapter Two
The next morning, as they arrived at Adrienne Jeffries’s ranch, Conner was even more certain this trip was a waste of time. He could admit to himself that the ranch was picturesque among the rolling hills in Lodi but still resented having to come here. A modest-sized house sat in the middle of multiple corralled areas. A barn—at least the same size as the house, maybe even a bit bigger—sat a few hundred yards back from the house.
“Let’s get this over with,” Conner muttered.
They parked and walked up the three worn steps to the wraparound porch. Although the porch and its furniture was well kept, everything was obviously old and secondhand. Conner knocked on a door that could use another coat of paint. No one answered.
“Let’s try the barn,” Seth suggested, heading back down the steps.
That the barn was in a much better state than the house seemed to be immediately evident. Well maintained, organized, all repairs up-to-date. Evidently any money the horse ranch made went back into the barn first.
Conner could hear a man talking inside the barn, although couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. Both Conner and Seth were immediately on alert.
“Hello in the barn! This is FBI Special Agents Conner Perigo and Seth Harrington,” Conner called.
The talking immediately stopped, but there was no response.
“Sir? We’re looking for a Ms. Adrienne Jeffries. We would like to come in the barn.”
A muttered curse, then what sounded like chewing tobacco being spit. “Fine. Come on in,” the man in the barn finally replied.
“Sir, is it just you in the barn?” Seth asked as he and Conner entered slowly.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? We heard you talking to someone.”
“Yeah, I was talking to Willie Nelson, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to be talking back anytime soon.”
Willie Nelson? Conner and Seth glanced at each other again as they walked farther in, both with hands near their weapons. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness of the barn, Conner saw the man was referring to a horse he was brushing inside a stall.
The man was in his mid-sixties, short and wiry. As he walked around the horse, Conner noticed he moved with a limp in his left leg. This had to be Rick Vincent.
“I’m Agent Perigo. This is Agent Harrington. We’re from the FBI.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” The older man was obviously not a big fan of law enforcement. “I’m busy.”
“We’re looking for Ms. Jeffries, sir. She owns this ranch, correct?” Seth asked, moving a couple steps to the left, subtly blocking the exit, should the older man try to run.
“Yeah, she owns it. She’s not here right now.”
“Not here on the ranch or not here in the barn?” Conner asked when the man didn’t offer any more info.
“She’s off riding one of the horses.”
“And may we ask your name, sir?” Although they already knew.
“Vincent. Rick Vincent,” the man offered after a hesitation. Conner could see he was trying to judge how much they knew about him.
“You work here, Mr. Vincent?” Conner asked.
“Just Vincent. Yeah, I work here. I’m the ranch manager.”
“How long have you worked here?” Seth asked.
“Just about a year now.”
“Ms. Jeffries owned the place the entire time?”
Conner let Seth ask the questions while Conner observed the man and the barn. They already knew the answers, but they could learn a lot by what someone was willing to lie about.
“Yeah.”
“Just you and her working here?”
“Yeah. Although we get some kids from the 4-H Club who come in on weekends and stuff like that. And some horticultural students from the local community college every once in a while.”
“May I get your address, Vincent? Just in case we need to talk to you again after we speak to Ms. Jeffries.”
Vincent paused so long Conner thought he might not answer at all. “I live in the house here.”
Conner glanced at Seth with an eyebrow raised. “So you live with Ms. Jeffries in the house?” Interesting.
“Yes.”
“And it’s just the two of you?”
“It’s not like what you boys are thinking. We both live in the house, but it’s not like that.” Vincent glared at them both, then spat to the side again.
Okay, maybe not romantic, but protective. Still interesting.
Seth seemed about to ask another question when a female voice from outside the barn interrupted him.
“Vince! I officially love Ruby Tuesday! I so hope the owners end up boarding her here. Maybe I should offer a discount just so I can see this pretty girl all the time.” A burst of joyful laughter drew Conner’s focus.
The woman’s voice faded as she started talking to the horse, obviously common practice around here.
A moment later a woman in her mid-twenties—probably
