death of Mason Winters nearly nine years ago had caused the group to close ranks even tighter. In all this time, no one had gotten close to infiltrating the group and several had tried. Despite the Bureau’s attempt to conceal what went wrong with Jack and his investigation, they continued to tap any resource that could be found. Except, in Deacon’s opinion, they were looking in all the wrong places.
Now he had a loose thread at ground zero—Cecelia Winters. He would learn all her secrets as quickly as possible. Time was not on his side. If she knew things, as he suspected she did, someone would tie up that loose end. Soon.
She knew what had really happened. He was certain of it. She was a part of the family Jack had been investigating. She was the only one who had the proper motivation to tell the truth. Her family had turned on her, which gave her every reason to no longer have any loyalty to them. Deacon would find the truth before he was finished here, no matter how long it took and no matter what he had to do to make it happen.
Everything had been set in motion. All he had to do now was watch and take advantage of the opportunities to get close to her. The people in this community who despised her would take care of the rest. Cecelia Winters had no idea how much her father’s followers hated her. She had killed their messiah, their leader. Those who rose to power after his death were even more heinous—particularly her brother Marcus.
Before this was over she would wish a thousand times she had stayed in that hellhole of a prison. She would want to run—to get away from the past that haunted her. But she wasn’t going anywhere until Deacon had what he’d come for.
He turned away from her and walked back through the stretch of woods that separated the place he had bought from the one she had inherited. He’d set up a stand of trees near her house so that he could watch her. Anyone who stumbled upon it would believe it was a hunter’s blind. Hunting season was still a way off but hard-core hunters started prepping early.
When he reached the clearing in front of his house, he hesitated. A truck had pulled into his driveway. A moment or so later, the driver emerged. He crossed the yard and climbed the porch steps.
Sheriff Colt Tanner.
Deacon skirted the rear yard and headed for the back door. He had no idea why Tanner would visit him. Maybe to follow up on the incident in the Ollie’s parking lot. Deacon had given a statement. He didn’t see the need for additional questioning. But the sheriff had been somewhat skeptical of him since his move to the Winchester area. No surprise there. The man had good instincts.
Following the disappearance of his partner, Deacon had been ordered to stay away from the investigation. He had been forced to do his digging quietly and under the radar of his superiors. The decision made no sense to him. He should have been the one ferreting out the facts about Jack. The Bureau had not seen it that way. Too personal, they had argued. Deacon was ordered to leave Winchester and to keep his nose out of the investigation. He had done as he was told—until one year ago. When the case had been closed, his partner legally declared dead.
Deacon had started his own off-the-record investigation. In Winchester, Logan Wilburn had gotten himself murdered and his property had gone on the market. Deacon had bought it sight unseen only because the closest neighbor was the mini farm Cecelia had inherited.
With those steps in place, Deacon had taken a leave of absence from the Bureau and moved here to set up his cover. He had learned who was who, burrowed into the community, and then he had waited. But Colt Tanner had kept a wary eye on him.
He imagined that was what this visit was about, more so than the nasty mob at Ollie’s.
As Deacon moved through the house, a firm knock echoed in the living room, most likely the second one since the sheriff’s arrival. Deacon tossed his hat onto the side table near the door, unlocked and opened it.
“Sheriff,” he said by way of a greeting.
“Ross,” Tanner replied. “You have a few minutes?”
“Sure. Come on in.” Deacon opened the door wide and waited for the other man to step inside.
Tanner paused in the center of the living room and removed his hat. “You’ve done a lot of work around this old place.”
Deacon closed the door and faced him. “Not so much.” He glanced around. “Paint mostly. Some maintenance that had gone by the wayside.”
“Looks good.”
Most of what Deacon had done around the place had been merely a part of building his cover. A necessary phase in establishing credibility. “I’m sure you didn’t drop by to check out my DIY skills. How can I help you, sheriff?”
“First, I want to reiterate how much Chief Brannigan and I appreciate you stepping in to help Miss Winters today.”
Brannigan had already said as much. Deacon was fairly confident this visit wasn’t just so Tanner could pass along his appreciation in person, as well. “It was the neighborly thing to do.”
Tanner held his white hat in his hands. Like the rest of the men in power around here, he sported a cowboy hat, boots and well-worn jeans. Deacon had chosen the same sort of attire, not because he actually considered himself a cowboy but because he wanted to fit in with the majority of the other “good” guys around the Winchester area. When Cecelia looked at him, he wanted her to see an image that reminded her of the sheriff or the chief. Someone she could trust.
Psychology 101. Play the part.
“Those folks were part of her dead daddy’s church,” Tanner said. “The whole group is up in arms. I don’t know what part of the Bible they think makes it a Christian thing to do—going after a woman like that. I spoke to the leader, Marcus Winters, who is also Cece’s brother. He’s assured me there will be no more trouble but I don’t trust him to follow through with that promise.”
Deacon was well aware of who the people were. He was also thoroughly acquainted, if only secondhand, with the older brother. The man had stepped into his dead daddy’s shoes as if he had planned the event. It was possible he and Cecelia had plotted the old man’s murder together. Then again, the fact that Marcus and the younger sister, Sierra, had basically disowned Cecelia seemed to indicate otherwise.
Then there was the wild card, the younger brother, Levi. He had visited his sister in prison on a regular basis but then he had not picked her up when she was released. Had not dropped by since she arrived home.
“I’ll do what I can to keep an eye out around here,” Deacon said. Though he wasn’t convinced the sheriff had paid him this visit to elicit his help in providing backup where the Winters woman was concerned.
“Do you know Cece’s younger brother, Levi?”
The question surprised Deacon. “I know the name,” he admitted. “I don’t actually know him or any other member of her family.” He shrugged. “I suppose I’ve seen him around.”
“Strange,” Tanner said. “About three weeks ago Levi caught me at home and went on and on about how he thought you might represent some threat to his sister. I asked him for details but he seemed reluctant to provide any.”
Well, well. Levi had been watching him. Deacon had thought he’d spotted the man once but he hadn’t been sure. Now he knew. Deacon shook his head. “I can’t imagine where he got an idea like that, sheriff. I don’t know his sister or him, beyond the rumors
